The one year anniversary of this was four days ago, so I'd figure I'd finish this. I know, it shouldn't take someone this long to finish a four-part, 9,000 words + fic, but... that's the way some things go.

Thanks: To everyone who's bother to read anything that I've written over the past however-many years. It's always a thrill to know that someone is enjoying something that you've created and please know that every kind word given is truly appreciated.

This was not beta'd; all mistakes are mine.

The first thing he becomes conscious of as his eyes squint open is the soreness in his legs and hips; Grissom stretches this way and that way and this way again as the memories of the night previous filter through his mind. The smile on his face can't be contained and it curls up, lazy.

The second thing he notices is that she is still in the bed with him but instead of waking to find her gazing over at him languidly, she's staring. Wide eyed and unmoving, Sara keeps his eyes on the curve of her shoulder before two quick snaps on his part shake her from whatever she was thinking. "You sleep like the dead; it's kind of refreshing."

It's odd, being complemented for one's sleeping abilities. "Oh, I, yes, good morning."

"Morning," she returns, her voice bouncing over the crest of a quick chuckle; she is happy, bubbly, flushed and he takes these as wonderful signs that she too enjoyed the night previous. Her body twists and the sheets twine around her body in such a way that he is reminded for a brilliant moment of the drapery on Grecian statues. It's humbling and gorgeous.

God, he's thinking in poetry.

Sara is moving towards him, her hand pressing against his shoulder and it becomes immediately apparent that she is intent on a kiss. "I haven't brushed my teeth." Hand against his mouth, Grissom shakes his head but she just purses her lips, rolls her eyes and peels the digits away.

"Me either," her voice is rough with slumber; it does not stop her from cracking wise. "We have so much in common."

Her mouth against his is a relief, a relief in many ways. Mostly because he doesn't do this often-fall into bed so quickly-and doesn't know what to say, can't be romantic after a night of such... intensity. So there is contentment in the stroke of his hand against her spine, anticipation in the way he searches through the sheets at her hip for skin. It's wild, really, how she gets his heart rate up so quickly, how easily her body melts to the hard angles and lines of his.

He'd call it a miracle if he believed in them. Grissom isn't fickle and he isn't prone to flights of fancy, but her laugh and her eyes and her intelligence and he thinks he might be falling for someone that he barely knows. Perhaps, he regresses, he's taking this all too seriously and allows her to slide one leg over his hips, brace her hands on his chest and take him.

But then, who wouldn't? The dawn is breaking through the curtains and she is nothing but bright yellow and orange, clawing at his pecs, panting, asking him for more. Grissom can't help but wonder how much more she wants and his brain lingers off, thinking things that he shouldn't be thinking at a time like this.

He gives willingly, probably too willingly.

The semester would be over in four weeks and it is inevitable that he will drag himself back to the desert to bake away and she will remain in California, all vivid and sunny and brilliant. There would be no more for them, nothing more than their quiet dinners and moments like these, spent in her bed. He would have to tell her this but later, much later.

"Come on," she rasps out and stares down at him, her lips parted, tongue peeking out to wet the corner. "Come on."

His hips respond, bucking into her and she cries out, breath hitching as Sara quietly fractures apart above him. It is something to behold, really, and he follows quickly behind her, grabbing her hips hard and pulling her down on him. Their lips meet in a sweaty, slippery kiss and when she pulls off of him to flop over to her side of the bed she says something that surprises him.

"Ohh, I won't be able to walk for a week."

At that he laughs and she laughs and they laugh together. It is such a strangely wonderful feeling that he lets it fill up his chest and wrap around his heart and his head and Grissom falls to sleep for an hour more with her by his side.

Their morning progresses normally from there: shower (alone), breakfast, paper, leaving for the day's labors. There is however, a kiss at the door and it leaves him starry eyed, looking repeatedly at her door as he walks down the hallway and out into the California morning. And they don't talk about what has happened and it stays with him throughout the day.

She doesn't call him that day or the next and that surprisess him too and he wonders if he is simply attracted to her because she's a mystery; she surprises him at every turn and it is exciting and uplifting and he spends more of his afternoons and early evenings pretending that it is simple attraction and not something-else-he-can't-put-his-finger-on that has him reaching for his phone in order to call her.

It isn't until the Thursday before class that she runs into him at the coffee shop again. "Hey!" Sara is bubbly and happy and blowing the steam off of her chai when he sees her again. Oh no, he has no idea what to say so he settles for a "hello" and claims a seat across from her at a small table.

Grissom doesn't wait for an invitation and doesn't think about that fact until he's already seated.

Her eyes meet his over the top of her paper and her smile is in them; he can see her smile through her gaze. "I know, I just figured you were busy and I didn't want to... I don't know, scare you off. I don't know." A tentative sip of tea and her eyes go back to her reading for a moment. "Sorry."

There's nothing to do but smile back and sip his coffee and ponder that fact that in a few weeks he'll be gone and does this matter and should he go through with this and will it hurt her and what is he doing with this woman who's so much younger than him and is it out of control? Is it?

"Gil? You okay?"

He isn't but he says he is, blows the steam off of his own beverage and just watches her read. It's too easy to do this, to fall into this, but he doesn't want to stop, and so he doesn't. It all feels a little out of control and he likes that, likes that a little and honestly likes her a lot but it has to end somewhere.

They walk to class together and just in the middle of a discussion of a recent visit by the Poet Laureate, she spins him around a corner and grabs him by the biceps and kisses him wild. Completely inappropriate to be doing in public, but she is unhinged a little, so he unhinges a little too and forgets where they are a little and just feels her.

It goes on like this forever, it seems; they have dinner, they have coffee, they have sex and they sleep together and more than once he reaches for her hand when they're strolling together.

It feels normal.

It won't last.

It can't.

How could it?

So they continue on, she pretending not to count down the days until he leaves, and he trying to persuade himself that this is nothing more than a one-time thing, a chance meeting, nothing more. It's strange, this isn't something that he's experienced before and thus he has no idea how to make it go away. He isn't sure he can handle it if this lingers with him.

When he is taking his leave of her apartment for the last time, there's a lump in his throat that he can't wish away. This is taking such a toll on him that there's a fraction of his being that wishes that this never started.

"I, uh, I'm not going to fly out to Vegas when I miss you." The sad smile on her face mirrors his, he supposes. "I mean, that would be, what? In a day... and I really don't have that kind of money right now." She thinks that her attempt at a joke will hide the crack in her voice, but it doesn't.

So he hugs her.

Grissom's chin rests just above her right ear so he remains quiet when he says, "I'm... the last few weeks have been-"

"Yeah," she agrees on a sigh; she can't stand to hear anything more and he can't stand to say anything more so they remain silent, holding each other, needing to leave but not wanting the moment to end.

So he lingers, and almost believes her lie when she says, "It's probably for the best anyway."

The words coming from her mouth make the moment feel like a very real, tacit end to what they've started but there's a knot of anticipation and longing in his stomach that tells him that this is simply their brilliant beginning.

This the point, years down the road, they will claim that they began.