Author's Note: This chapter marks the last of focusing on the romance problem and the next brings about a whole new one which is more action/adventure-y. I wrote a very dark turning point yesterday which really merrits this fic's M-rating... probably the most deserving of an M-rating that I'd ever written... And then I wrote myself into a corner I can't get out of. Hopefully, it won't effect posting. So I'm going to a Brand New concert tonight. I expect reviews by the time I get back. ;o) As usual, my incentive is that I'll check out your stuff to return the favor. :o)


"How did you sleep?"

Sara jumped at the question and exhaled sharply, sending fingerprint dust everywhere. She sighed as she re-dusted the surface.

"I didn't mean to startle you," said Grissom, coming up behind her and watching her work. "You just look tired is all. Did you go straight home when you left early yesterday or did you go out?"

"Uh…" Sara thought quickly. "I went out," she answered. "With Greg. We talked."

"Ah." Grissom didn't sound surprised. "You did sleep, though? I didn't bother you yesterday because I wanted you to get some rest."

Sara turned and smiled at him, taking his hand and swinging it like a little girl might do. "And thank you, for giving me some space. I really appreciate that." She pecked him on the cheek.

"Sleep?" Grissom pressed.

Sara swallowed. "Yeah, I got a couple of hours in."

Grissom smiled. "Good," he said. "You need it."

Sara returned the smile and turned back to the sink. The smile quickly faded as she continued to work.

"What's wrong?" Grissom asked.

"Nothing," Sara replied, trying to sound cheery.

"You stopped smiling," Grissom noted. Sara looked up and wanted to hit herself for not remembering that there was a mirror above the bathroom sink. Of course, that made sense to any logical thinking person who had gotten their eight hours of sleep, which Sara clearly had not.

"You're right," Sara replied. "I didn't get much sleep. I'm tired. That's all." She looked at his reflection in the mirror. "You, uh, want to get dinner after this? Italian or something? I could really go for some bruschette."

"Sure," Grissom said after a beat. "I'd like that."

Sara nodded, giving him another smile, this time a real one. "Me too." It was probably the first thing she'd said to him that wasn't a lie all night. She hated herself for that.


After dinner, Grissom and Sara returned to the lab. They'd parted ways, each having to run the evidence they'd found, and Sara was walking down the hall when Greg jumped out at her from a nearby conference room and she dropped the files she was carrying.

"Jesus, Greg!" she hissed, annoyed. "Don't do that!"

"Sorry…" he said, stooping down to pick up the papers. "But I really need to talk to you. Inside?" He nodded at the conference room he'd just come out of and Sara cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Fine," she said. "So long as you promise to never do that again."

He agreed, snatching the last of her papers before straightening up again and handing them to her. Once inside, he closed the door and leaned against it. "I've been avoiding Grissom all day," he said. "And Sara, I really really can't do this."

"I know…" Sara said, closing her eyes and falling into a nearby chair. "I can't stand adultery. It's treacherous and selfish and completely unnecessary—"

"So I have a solution," Greg interrupted. "We tell him what happened, admit it was a fluke, beg for forgiveness and assure him it'll never happen again. We can do it together, stand by each other, it'll be good for everyone."

"It will be bad for everyone," Sara corrected. "Remember how I told you that it took us so long to trust each other? There is no one in the world he trusts more than me. Do you know what a blow this will be to him? Greg, I can't tell him."

"Then let's stop it right now," Greg insisted.

Sara shook her head, skeptically. "You said the same thing yesterday and look how that turned out."

"An accident," Greg said.

"Two fluke accidents in a row?" Sara said.

"OK, so it was a doubley bad accident," Greg admitted. "But it was one crazy night, we were both a little drunk—"

"Not the second time," Sara reminded him.

Greg winced as though she'd punched him hard in the arm. "Yeah, well, the second time was consolation sex."

"Explain that concept to me," Sara said, as though she were interviewing a suspect.

"Consolation sex is what happens when two people are feeling miserable for a past transgression and so they help each other feel better by sleeping together," Greg explained.

"Only our past transgression was sleeping together," Sara answered.

"Regardless," Greg said, waving away her argument with his hand. "It all happened within a few crazy hours so therefore only counts as one mistake. Thus, it is not an affair, merely an error in judgment."

"And what exactly is required to make it an affair?" Sara inquired.

"If you and I had sex on this conference table right now," Greg replied quickly. "See because now it's a brand new day, twenty-four hours later, and it would have happened again. It's a twenty-four hour rule, you see." Sara looked at the table then at Greg and his eyes grew wide. "Oh God…" he said. "You don't want to have sex on the conference table, do you?"

But Sara shook her head vehemently. "No," she insisted. "No, no, no, and for so many reasons, but especially because that would make it an affair and totally wrong and we'd just have one other thing to explain to Grissom when we finally come clean."

"Damn," Greg said, his shoulders slumping. "Because I kinda wanted to."

Sara flashed him an annoyed look. "See, it's talk like that which gets us into trouble."

"You said 'when we finally come clean,'" Greg pointed out. "Does that mean you're considering telling him?"

"I don't know…" Sara replied. "I used to tell Grissom everything, until…"

"Until Woodward."

The name, when said aloud, was like listening to the high pitched wails of cats when one's trying to sleep. It was unwanted and unhelpful, and put Sara in a miserable mood. "Yes," she said nonetheless. "Until… the abduction."

"Then you told me everything," Greg said.

"Yes."

"So now we're in this mess."

"Yes."

Greg sighed. "But at least we're in it together."

"Yes." Sara wondered if there were any other words in her vocabulary anymore

"Just like last time."

She didn't agree with him now. Thinking about 'last time' was still too much for her. "I'm sorry, Greg."

He blinked at her. "What? Why?"

"For getting you involved in this," Sara replied with a sigh. "All of this. Six months ago, I mean, you weren't even supposed to be on that case, Grissom was supposed to…"

Greg approached her and stroked her hair lovingly. "Sara," he said. "None of this is your fault. It's not your fault what he did to us and it's not your fault for feeling the way you do."

"It's my fault I slept with you," she pointed out.

"And really," Greg said, "and I mean honestly, if Grissom wasn't involved at all, how much do you regret doing that?"

Sara tore her gaze away from him and swatted his hand away from her hair, suddenly feeling cold again. "I should never have done it…" she whispered, and Greg could hear the unshed tears in her voice. "I should never… Oh God, I feel so… unclean…" She began scratching at her arms, slowly at first, but then more fiercely and rapidly. Greg caught them and she looked up at him angrily, pulling her hands away from him as she jumped to her feet and backed away. "Don't touch me."

Greg looked helpless. "Sara… Please, you're hurting yourself, stop it."
Sara shook her head, her scratching continuing. The sound of it was like nails on a chalkboard to Greg's ears. "No, Greg, I'm sorry, I love you so much but everything I've done since the abduction is wrong, I've come out wrong somehow and now all that I seem to be able to do is hurt people…"

"Including yourself," Greg said, beginning to panic. "Stop it, stop scratching yourself like that!" He noticed her nails began to draw red lines on her pale skin and he blanched. He stepped towards her again, but she only took another step back. "Sara, listen to me, listen to my voice," he said, hoping he sounded calmer than he felt. "Please, if you love me, if you love Grissom, stop scratching yourself. Please."

Sara's eyes seemed to widen in understanding and she looked down and gasped, pulling her arms apart and staring at the blood caked under her nails. Her arms were covered in white and red cuts, some of which were still bleeding. She closed her eyes and let out a little sob as she tilted her face towards the ceiling, shaking her head. "I don't know who I am anymore, Greg. I don't know what I'm doing."

Greg took another step towards her and when she didn't move to get away, he approached her step by step and took her by the wrists. "That's OK," he said. "Because I know who you are. And I will help you find yourself again. OK?"

Sara nodded as her lip quivered, but her eyes darted to the door. "I need to take a shower," she said.

"We need to take care of those scratches first," Greg insisted.

She pulled her wrists away from him. But her next words were scared, not angry. "Please… please don't touch me."

He obliged, although it was all he could do not to throw his arms around her and kiss her to make it all go away. "Listen," he said. "I think we should end this. It's stressing you out more than you need, making you do crazy things… Work things out with Grissom. Or, you know, don't. Whatever, it's like you said, that's between you and him. But as far as we're concerned, this is over."

Sara nodded, but leaned against the wall and slowly slid down to a sitting position. She wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed them to feel warm again, smearing blood all over her arms. "You're right, of course," she said. "You were always right. And I'm wrong. I'm just… wrong."

Greg couldn't leave her like that. He knelt down in front of her, careful not to touch her even by accident as he tried to catch her eye. "You are not wrong," he said firmly. "Do you hear me? I love you, Sara Sidle, baggage and craziness and everything. I wasn't lying about anything I said yesterday. And all I want is what's best for you. And right now, an affair, stress, lies… those are not good for you. Because let's face it, Sara, in this game, everyone always loses. Everyone always gets hurt. And one way or another, after yesterday, one of your relationships was bound to fail. And for purely selfish reasons, I had hoped that it wouldn't be ours. But I see now that you're a wreck without Grissom, even if you don't. I just want you to feel like yourself again. Can you do that for me?"

She nodded again, hugging her knees to her chest. She looked like a little girl. "I'm sorry I freaked out just now."

Greg favored her with a half smile. "What did I just say about apologies? You don't owe me anything."

"I owe you everything, Greg," Sara whispered. "And I won't ever forget about that debt."

Greg rose to his feet and offered her a hand. "You don't have to take it," he assured her. But she reached out her own hand and grasped his and he pulled her to her feet. "Now will you let me take you to get those scratches taken care of?"

She nodded, too untrusting of her own voice to speak. "Yes… Can we… not explain how I got these?"

Greg pulled her arm out and looked at it, before looking up at Sara. "It'll be kind of hard," he said. "After all, all your friends are CSIs. They know accidental scrapes from self-inflicted wounds."

"I was attacked by a cat," Sara explained. "It's simple, it's eloquent, and it's completely plausible."

"Cats have three claws," Greg said. "And the space between your scratches are too much for a cat."

"Then I had some killer mosquito bites and scratched at them in my sleep," Sara relented.

"There are no bug bites," Greg pointed out.

"Dry skin," Sara amended.

"That's better," Greg decided. "Come on, I'll get some peroxide and some band-aids and we'll call it a night."


"What happened to your arms?"

Sara pulled the covers over her shoulder. "Dry skin," she explained. "Scratched at them in my sleep and scratched a little too much."

Grissom pulled the covers away and looked curiously at her arms. Sara was thankful he didn't grab her wrist and force her to show him. He looked up at her. "OK," he said.

"You don't believe me?" she said, trying to sound offended.

Grissom shrugged. "You wouldn't lie."

She knew that he actually felt that way, and it made her feel sick. "You trust me so invariably…"

"I always will," Grissom replied.

Sara sat up in the bed and looked deep into his blue eyes and saw that he meant it. She smiled at him and leaned forward, kissing him softly. But he pulled away and looked at her with confused eyes.

"Are you sure you want this?" he asked. "Because we don't have to, if you're not OK."

Sara was even more encouraged by the fact that he'd even asked. "More than anything," she replied. She leaned forward to kiss him again and this time he didn't break it. She let his hand run down her neck and over her shoulder. For the first time in six months, she didn't push him away.

His caress was soft and sweet. He let her call all the shots. He told her they could stop at any time, but it only made her want him more. They moved slow, every touch light, ever fleeting kiss tender and relaxed.

Sara felt like she had reached some sort of catharsis. She was opening her heart again. She was reconnecting with Gil Grissom, a man whom she hadn't let touch her for six whole months and he had waited by her side ever so patiently, just waiting for her to be herself again.

And that's all Greg had wanted, too. For her to be herself again. She realized as his dark eyes entered her mind that he was the last person she should have been thinking of at that moment, so she pushed him from her mind. She concentrated on this moment, this moment she shared with Grissom, and she found herself comforted by his warmth. Somewhere deep inside her, Sara knew that it was guilty sex, and it was the only part of her that didn't feel good about what she was doing. But she pushed the guilt even deeper then she had pushed her thoughts of Greg and tried to fill her mind with Grissom and the love that they shared.

She was certain now that they were still as much in love as they were six months ago before she had been taken. The only difference now was that Grissom was unafraid to admit it while she still stumbled on the words. It was a true role reversal. And up until now, she thought she couldn't say it because she didn't actually love Grissom as much as she thought she did. But then she realized, after saying it so clearly to Greg that it wasn't Grissom she was afraid of but love in general. Ironically, Greg opening up to her had allowed her to open herself up to Grissom.

Maybe things were turning out for the best after all.

Or maybe not.

She rested her head on his chest, listening to him breathe as she thought of Greg again and the words he had spoken to her in the conference room. I just want what's best for you. He had assumed that Grissom was what was best for her, and he may have even been right. But Sara knew that the only one who could determine what was best for Sara Sidle was Sara Sidle.

So why was it so hard to figure out what it was she wanted?

Slowly, Grissom's breaths began to get deeper and Sara glanced up at him to see he had finally fallen asleep. But she felt wide awake. Her mind was a cluttered freeway for thoughts with nowhere to go. She listened to him breathe, envious of the deep sleep he was lost in, and pitying him at the same time. He was completely innocent in all of this. He didn't know what Sara had done the previous evening. She had committed the ultimate betrayal and she knew that somehow she would be punished for it in the long run. Though not very religious, she tended to believe in karmic retribution. Perhaps losing Greg was the punishment for her lapse in judgment. She wondered if they would ever be able to talk to each other as friends again.

And he loved her so much.

But so did Grissom.

Which begged the question, who did she love?

Sara lay there a long time, searching for the answer which never came.