Every conversation that day was strictly work related after the car ride to the scene. No more opinions on deserts; nothing outside of cause of death, suspects, and evidence. The eye contact made between the two of them was limited, but each glance was sacred. She felt like time stopped when he looked directly at her when she was speaking. She imagined he wasn't really listening, just watching her mouth move. He adored watching her talk. It was kind of the same way she adored watching him read. As they drove back to the lab, they were silent, mostly because they were tired, but there were obviously underlying factors. As they arrived at the lab, she looked to him. "We need to talk."
A few days after the case had been solved, they didn't talk. They had only talked of the lab since that car ride. Neither of them were doing anything to fix their current situation, and what was worse, poor Greg had no idea she was feeling less and less for him. They kept having sex, great sex as a matter of fact, and she put everything into it. But what he didn't know was she was imagining it was his gray hair she ran her fingers through, not his highlighted hair. She had almost let his name slip between her lips, she caught herself though, desperately wishing that she wouldn't have to catch herself. She knew this had to stop. She just didn't know how to do it.
There was a while when he was getting better, doing things to keep him a little more occupied. Now after that case they worked together, though he was trying ferociously to win her back, he was backing away again. The only picture in his mind was her. The only sound he heard were those words she spoke to him days ago. He knew he had to stay away until she broke it off with Greg. As much as he wanted to come in between them, she got herself into this mess and she had to be the one to get herself out. Grissom sat down and opened his book to the marked page; all he could do for now is wait.
It all happened maybe a bit too quickly. She didn't think that something this big could come to her and happen in the amount of time it actually did. He had her pinned up against the wall of his bedroom, one of her legs was wrapped around him, the other was firmly planted against the floor. Her hands fumbled with his shirt buttons; his hands fumbled with her jeans button and zipper. Their lips were crashing into each other as she threw his shirt off of his torso, moving her hands to his pants. Her pants were stripped off and he moved his hand up her blouse to remove her bra. The bra unfastened and his pants fell and she moved her hands onto his abdomen. She pulled her head away just as he went in for another kiss. His hands slowly slid out from under her shirt, his fingertips grazing her bare stomach as they exited. He took her around her waist, feeling the cloth from her panties and the bare skin where her pants once were. Her hands were on his chest, separating the two of them from each other. She looked away from him, down at her pants and bra on the ground. He took one hand away and tucked a clump of hair behind her ear. "I'm not surprised." A tear ran down her face. "And I'm not sorry."