A/N: Hey everyone! Thanks again for all the wonderful reviews. Keep them coming...the more I get, the more you get ;).

Disclaimer: As before, I own nothing...but I'm still making room for Billy and Jorja under my tree this year.

Many thanks to my dear friend Cheryl for her mad beta skills. She's not a CSI fan but I'm hoping this story will help bring her back to the light side of the force...oh wait...wrong fandom. LOL Happy Wednesday everyone!!


Grissom drove aimlessly, not knowing where to go or what to do. He had no idea how much time had passed since he left Sara when his cell phone suddenly rang. He didn't bother looking at the caller ID, he just assumed it must be the lab since nobody else ever called him at this hour. "Grissom", he barked into the phone.

"How am I supposed to follow you if I don't know where you are," she asked softly, not bothering to hide the tears that were still evident in her voice. "I got in my car and needed a minute to um, catch my breath, and when I looked up, you were gone. I thought you had more you wanted to say."

Sara didn't know what she was thinking when she pulled out her cell phone and called Grissom once she had calmed down. What she did know was that something had changed between them this morning and she had to know what it was and what it meant. A million different scenarios were running through her head and nothing but knowing the truth was going to satisfy her at this point.

"Sara," he gasped; his heart had nearly stopped when he heard her voice. "I ah, I'm… I'm sorry. After your reaction I didn't think you'd want to talk to me."

"You thought wrong, Bugman," she almost whispered, using the nickname she'd given him years ago but hadn't used since. "Where did you go?"

He looked out the windshield of the Denali and realized he had absolutely NO idea where he was. "I have no clue, I just drove." He checked his watch, less than half an hour had passed. "Are you still at the lab?"

"Yeah, do you want me to just meet you somewhere so you don't have to come all the way back here?"

Bolstering all his courage he asked her, "Do you still remember how to get to my place? I know you've only been there once."

Sara almost laughed out-loud at this. If only he knew how often she had driven by his townhouse in the last five years. She'd lost count of the times, held up by liquid courage that she'd almost stopped, almost bared her soul to him, almost bared her body for him. Those almosts stopped today, she vowed to herself; it was going to be all or nothing from now on. "Yeah, I think so. It's over off Blackston Road, isn't it?"

He smiled to himself, pleased that she would remember after such a long time. "Yes, that's right. Would you be willing to meet me there in about an hour? I have something urgent to take care of, then I'll be home."

"That's fine. Do you want me to pick up some breakfast? I don't know about you, but I'm starving."

Grissom was glad to hear her voice returning to normal. Maybe, just maybe, all was not lost. "That would be nice, Sara, thank you. Just get me whatever you get yourself. I'll see you in about an hour, ok?" When he heard her affirmative, he closed his phone and sat for a moment to catch his breath and slow his erratic pulse. He didn't sit for long though, he had a great deal to do and less than an hour to get it done.

Using the GPS Navigator in his Denali, he figured out the best way to get him back home after making his stops. Luckily his aimlessness had actually brought him less than 10 minutes from his destination; still, he would feel better once he had everything he needed and was back home.

Along the way he stopped at the florist he always used when he sent his mother flowers to surprise her. He also stopped and bought a bottle of champagne and two delicate crystal glasses. There was one other purchase he made, on a whim, something he had never needed before. He wasn't even sure if he'd need them now, and he blushed at the look the teenage girl at the drugstore gave him as she looked from him, to the small box on the counter, and back again.

He managed to make all his stops and get everything put away less than 45 minutes after he got off the phone with Sara. Now he just had to figure out what to do until she arrived. While he was waiting, he remembered something he had purchased out of the blue several months ago.

He had been looking for something special for his mother's 75th birthday when he saw the exquisite piece in the jewelry store. The necklace was white gold, with a delicate butterfly pendant, made of sapphires and emeralds, which he knew were Sara's birthstone and favorite color respectively. He had no idea what possessed him to buy it, it was far to personal a gift from a supervisor to his subordinate, but perhaps today would change that. He was checking to see if it was still where he had left it in his beside table when he heard the knock at his front door.

Grissom opened the door and she took his breath away. She was unlike any woman he had ever known. After what had transpired before, another woman would have changed clothes or touched up her makeup to hide the tearstains and swollen eyes. Not Sara though; with Sara, what you saw was what you got, and this morning more than any other, what he saw before him was the woman he knew he would love for the rest of his life.

"Hi, you said to get you what I was having, so I got you a waffle and some tofu bacon. I hope that's ok." Her voice drifted off when she realized he was staring at her. "What? Do I have something on my face?" she asked self-consciously.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare. You just look so… beautiful," he said quietly, hoping the awe he felt was conveyed in his voice.

"Here, let me take those from you," he blurted, relieving her of the takeout containers, to give himself something to do with the nervous energy he suddenly found he had in abundance. "Come in and make yourself comfortable. I'll just put these in the kitchen."

She had rarely seen him this ill at ease, and deep down it gave her a little bit of a thrill knowing at least this time, it was because of her. She walked into the living room to sit on the couch when she saw the flowers he'd purchased. There, on his coffee table, in a simple yet stunningly elegant vase, were 10 of the most gorgeous fire and ice roses she had ever seen.

"Sara? Sara? Are you ok?" she heard him say, breaking her from her reverie. "I asked if you wanted to eat now or after we talk for a while. When you didn't answer, I thought you might have fallen asleep already."

"I'm fine. How… how did you know?"

"Know what?" he asked, trying unsuccessfully to feign innocence. Unsuccessfully because he didn't look at her as he asked the question. He knew she'd see right through him if he looked at her- she always did.

Sara shot him her best "Give it up, I know your secret" look. The one she usually reserved for suspects she knew were as guilty as hell. He knew he was in over his head with the beautiful woman standing in front of him, and it would be best to just tell her everything.

"I heard you and Catherine talking in the locker room one day. Her mother had sent her flowers for her birthday; you were admiring them and you told her,"

"I told her I knew it was embarrassingly trite and old fashioned, but I loved roses, especially Fire and Ice roses. Gris, that was over two years ago, how did you remember that?"

"It was something that was important to you, so I committed it to memory, just like I always have."

"You are amazing, Gil. I don't know what to say."

His breath caught in his throat for a moment. She'd never called him Gil before. He had asked her to when they became friends while she was in grad school; he felt Dr. Grissom was too formal for the close friendship they had formed and she felt that Gil was too informal for a student to call her mentor. So they had settled on Grissom. For a while she even took to calling him Bugman, an endearment he secretly enjoyed. But she had stopped using it when she slipped and called him that during lecture one day. He had been waiting 12 years to for her to say his name and it game him the push he needed to continue their earlier conversation.

"Sara, sit down, there's a lot I'd like us to talk about," he said, his calm tone belying the knots his stomach was tying itself into. Here was the opportunity he'd been dreaming of and he was going to seize it.

Sinking down into the leather cushions, he took a deep breath and decided to take Jim's sage advice and just cut to the chase. "I'm terrified, Sara. I'm terrified and I don't know how to deal with these feelings anymore."

Unaccustomed as he was to doing something like this, he was unable to face her as he spoke. He was supposed to be the strong, fearless one, the alpha-male, able to support and protect those he cared for; yet here he was, shaking like a leaf, ashamed of his weakness and fear.

Sara sighed, more than a little frustrated at the half step forward, two steps back this conversation was taking. She was used to his constant push/pull towards her, but this was something more. Intent on getting past the barriers, she moved to sit on the coffee table facing him with her legs tucked up underneath her. It was then that she truly noticed the outward signs of the inner battle she knew he was waging with his emotions.

"You're trembling," she said softly as she took his hands in hers. "Come on, Bugman, talk to me. I know we've had our issues in the past, but we've always gotten through them, haven't we? Whatever is going on now, we can get through it, but you have to talk to me."

They sat like that for what seemed an eternity. She held his hands and fought back the urge to do more, to wrap him in her arms and never let him go. She'd never seen him like this, so utterly quiet, so fragile. She knew he was hurting and it was like shredding her soul to see him like this- but when she tried to remove her hands from him to go, she felt his grip on her fingers tighten and she knew she couldn't, and wouldn't, leave him.

He felt her start to pull away and his walls crumbled. His hands tightened on hers in a silent plea for her not to leave and he felt her relax into his grip. He looked up to meet her eyes and was stunned by what he saw reflected in their depths. He had expected to see anger, frustration and even hurt. Instead he saw compassion, warmth and patience; a patience he knew must have been born of waiting for him for so many years.

"My dad left when I was five. At the time, I thought it was my fault, I thought I wasn't enough. I wasn't the son he wanted. I didn't like sports or fishing or playing with other kids. I was happier inside, with my books and my insects and my mother. Mother had always encouraged my fascinations; she bought me my first ant farm for my birthday that year. Dad bought me a football and a fishing pole."

"Grissom, it's ok. You don't have to tell me this."

"Yes, I do, Sara. If we're going to get through this," he said, gesturing between them, indicating the current status of their friendship. "If we're going to get through this, you deserve to know why I am so hopelessly inept when it comes to relationships. I never had a role model of a healthy relationship."

"Did they argue a lot, your parents? Was he abusive?" she asked, dreading the answer. It was one thing for her to have lived through that horror, but somehow she couldn't bear the thought of someone doing the same to him.

"Actually, there was never any yelling. There was no need for it. When I was three, Mother lost her hearing. She had known for years that she would eventually lose it, so she started teaching me to sign when I was a baby. By the time it was completely gone, my signed vocabulary equaled my spoken one."

Sara laughed a little at this, "It must have been huge then. What about your father, though? Did she not teach him to sign too?"

He shook his head sadly. "She tried, but he had no interest in learning. He thought it was 'unnatural' for people to communicate with anything other than speech. He tried to ignore her hearing loss. I guess he thought if he didn't acknowledge it, it didn't exist. He tried that for two years before he finally gave up and left."

"Your mother never remarried?"

"No. I asked her once, when I was older, why she never did and she said 'Gilbert, I have you. What would I need with another man in my life?'"

Sara smiled and unconsciously muttered under her breath, "I know what ya mean, Mrs. G. I know what ya mean." Only when she saw his eyebrow rise in that maddeningly sexy way of his, did she realize the words had escaped her mouth and she blushed furiously. She tried to cover her face with her hands, but he refused to let them out of his grip, which only served to deepen her embarrassment. Giving in, she stopped fighting and asked him keep sharing with her.

She lost track of how long she'd been sitting on the table, with her feet tucked up under her and his hands held firmly, but gently, in hers. He'd opened up to her for the first time and she wasn't going to allow the numbness in her legs or the stiffness in her neck to slow things down now. He told her stories of his childhood; nothing earth shattering or life altering in and of themselves, but for the fact that he was sharing them with her. She laughed with him about the first time he brought home a pet spider. She squeezed his hands tighter when he talked about his father's death from cancer when he was in junior high. She wanted to hug him tightly when he talked about graduating early from high school, because he never really had any friends, so he took extra classes to fill his time.