"You…you're…I thought you were a Teaching Assistant."

She shrugged pleasantly. "I'm a last-minute fill-in. The guy who was supposed to do it had to bow out at the last minute and I took the class last semester, so…they asked me. I'm not doing any grading or anything," she assured him, as if she thought he was concerned a fellow undergraduate student was going to be marking his work. "I'm just going to lead discussions."

"It's not that…I'm just…surprised." Dear. God. Could he be anymore awkward? Gil took a deep breath. "I'm Gil. Grissom." He held out his hand.

She looked at it, smiled, and took it. "Sara Sidle." She sat back in her seat and regarded him. "So, Advanced Theoretical Physics and Shakespeare? You're a man of varied interests."

"Well, I'm a biology major, but I wanted to supplement biology with more physics. It was either that or more chemistry, and I find I enjoy the theory behind physics. And the math involved. I'm good at math."

Sara looked like she was holding in a grin. "I'm sure you are."

"And as for Shakespeare," he continued, "I think it's…disadvantageous to envelope oneself completely in science and not develop any appreciation for things like literature and poetry, art and music. I'm very familiar with Shakespeare's works, but I haven't really studied them in an academic setting, apart from having to take part in the obligatory middle school production of Romeo & Juliet."

Oh, God, did he just bring up his middle school play? Gil cringed inwardly. His words had left his mouth in rapid fire succession. He wasn't the best conversationalist, and did better when he kept his answers short and to the point, but for some reason, he felt the need to tell everything to Sara.

"Let me guess…you played…Prince Escalus."

His mouth hung open for several seconds together. His part had indeed been the Prince of Verona, the mediator between the feuding Montagues and Capulets. "How…how did you know?"

"I told you," she smiled. "It was a guess. The role, it…fits."

"Were you…were you Juliet?"

She laughed. "Nope. I was Tybalt."

"Tybalt?"

"My eighth grade class was probably two-thirds girls. I got stuck playing a boy."

"H-have you read any Shakespeare since then?"

"Well, not much." His heart sank a little. "Just Hamlet and King Lear and MacBeth. But that's pretty much it. Oh, and As You Like It. And Othello."

Gil's smile nearly split his face in two. "That doesn't sound like 'not much' to me."

She shifted in her seat. "But it was just me on my own reading them. I don't know if I interpreted the themes the correct ways or if I understood all the subtext."

"The beauty of Shakespeare is that every time you read through his works, you discover something new. It's why his plays and poems are so timeless." Sara seemed comforted by his words, and this bolstered his confidence. Come on, his brain said. Make a move. You can do it. "I've read tons of Shakespeare. Maybe I could help you out with it in exchange for you teaching me in our Theoretical Physics group sessions."

"Sounds good," she said just as the professor walked in and introduced herself.

Gil did not hear a word of the first lecture. Not one single, solitary word. Sara's "Sounds good" echoed in his head, drowning out all of the sounds around him. He could hear only her, feel only the heat radiating off of her arm, mere centimeters from his.

This was the beginning.

After class was dismissed, they grabbed a quick bite to eat and he took her to his favorite used bookstore; they scoured the shelves, looking for hidden treasures.

She was his intellectual equal. Not only did she have a similar capacity for knowledge, but her curiosity, her thirst for information, matched his own. Gil sensed that, for some reason, learning meant a great deal to her personally. It wasn't vanity that propelled her intellect. She was not one of the many students on campus whose quest for knowledge revolved solely on the pride of maintaining a 4.0 GPA. No. No, something told him it was much deeper than that.

Before he could question why he was so sure of this, Sara beamed at him from her spot in the next aisle, and called him over to share in her find.

They walked, picked up dinner, and walked some more, finally settling on a park bench where they sat mesmerized in conversation. It wasn't until his throat became sore and he heard birds start to chirp that he checked his watch.

"My God," he exclaimed, looking around to see dawn break beyond the leaves of the trees. "It's morning!"

She blinked and checked her own watch. "I can't believe it!"

Gil stood, a bit flustered that he had lost track of the time. "I had better get you home. You haven't slept."

She laughed and got up off of the bench. "Neither have you." He smiled sheepishly at her, and watched as she tilted her head to the side and reached her hand out to cup his cheek, rubbing the skin there with her palm. Her mouth moved to say something, but he couldn't hear her. A split second later, he couldn't see her, either.

His vision went black, and his ears popped, as if he were in a vacuum.

And then there was a flash and he saw her again. But it wasn't her.

Was it?

She had a…a cap on. And coveralls. She was…she looked a bit older.

Chalk.

He moved his mouth to speak, and was suddenly brought back to the world as he uttered his words: "What did you say?"

There she was again: Sara. His Sara. She laughed. "I said you need a shave."

Self-conscious, Gil rubbed his face. He hadn't shaved the day before because he had been late, and was now sporting some serious stubble. But she touched him. She caressed his face. He turned his head away, pretending examine their whereabouts, and let out a smile.

When his alarm rang almost twenty-four hours earlier, he felt so out of place, so uncomfortable in his own skin.

But when she touched him, when she brushed his cheek and smiled, he knew he was where he needed to be. He knew he was home.

Gil walked Sara back to her place. It was out of his way, but he didn't care. Any chance to spend more time with her was worth it. They didn't have any shared classes together that day, so he knew that if he was going to see her, he'd need to come up with some excuse for them to meet up. Maybe they could study together. Or have dinner. Or see a movie. Or see a movie, and then have dinner.

Yes, he thought to himself as their arms brushed against each other as they walked in silence. They could sit together, all cozy at the movies, and then go out to the diner again and eat and talk for hours, like they had done the night before. Several times, Gil moved to open his mouth, but he couldn't seem to find his voice. He'd never really asked a girl out before. Sometimes girls would find him attractive and chat him up after class or in line at the bookstore, but he'd say the wrong thing -- talk too much about Reduviid bugs or Einstein or not compliment them on their hairstyle or whatever -- and the expressions on their faces would go flat and they'd just…leave.

But Sara was still there. After hours and hours of him talking about Reduviid bugs and Einstein, she was still there. And she was smiling.

And he didn't even have to compliment her on her hairstyle.

He knew he should just do it, just ask her to hang out. She obviously liked spending time with him. They had lots in common. Gil was sure she'd say yes. Probably. Maybe.

He remained quiet.

They got to her door and he still couldn't speak. She smiled at him, and then turned to put her key in the lock. "So…I guess I'll see you in class tomorrow?"

He nodded dumbly at her, and watched as she walked into her place. She stood in the doorway and smiled again at him, beckoning him to speak.

"Uh…bye," he said, his voice squeaking slightly.

Dear God, was he twelve?

"Bye, Gil."

He stared at her closed door for a full minute and then cursed himself the entire way home. The day slogged by, sour and uneventful. Gil could barely pay attention to his professors as they lectured. His mind was on Sara, and he was filled with anticipation. He wanted to see her again. He needed to. The next morning, instead of being late for Theoretical Physics, Gil arrived a full half hour early and parked himself in the first row, right where he knew the TAs sat. They'd chat before class, sit close together during class, and then walk side-by-side to their shared Shakespeare class.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

Sara walked into the lecture hall ten minutes later. Their eyes met, and she beamed at him.

He felt good.

She walked towards him and dropped her bag on the floor next to his.

He was floating.

She turned her head at the sound of voices. He heard her say, "Dr. Jordan, I had a question about the syllabus." Gil looked up to see the two other teaching assistants he recognized walking alongside a munchkin of a man who was about as wide as he was tall.

Listen to your dad, dear. There's nothing to be afraid of.

The lights went out, and he was in a vacuum again. He was numb, but didn't realize it until the numbness went away and his head throbbed with a searing pain unlike anything he had ever felt before.

He saw flashes: Sara, sitting in a lecture hall. Her hair in a ponytail. She was looking up at him. Smiling.

The vision went away and all he heard was her voice. "It's me!"

He saw her again, her hair curly and shorter. It was sunny and there was a crowd of people. She seemed happy to see him. But just as he moved closer to her, she faded away and was replaced by a sad Sara, crying quietly in a dark doorway. Then there were more tears, only this time, he was holding her hand. They were sitting on a couch together. She was weeping. Gil could feel his chest tighten.

He stopped breathing when he saw her crouching in a fetal position on a white, tiled floor. Her skin was pale.

Lifeless.

On the small of her back was a tattoo of a red butterfly. Red, like the blood dripping from the slash spanning her throat.

It all went black and he was numb once more.

TBC...