Disclaimer: They're not mine.

A/N: How many saw this coming, when she was looking at the monkey? :)

Also, what do you think is going to happen, once they get home...? Hmm...

Story is far from over! Let me know what you think!

She heard a footstep behind her and turned reluctantly, reminding herself of the much-needed strength and will-power to not react to him. She could not rise to any provocation…

But it wasn't Ian…

As if from a dream, Gil Grissom emerged from the jungle and into her clearing, silly straw hat and all. It took her a moment before she could believe it was real. She smiled at him, slowly, still in disbelief—he always knew just when to rescue her—and then they were moving towards each other, connecting in a kiss that spoke of more truth and light and real love than anything either of them had experienced up to this point.

She trembled in his arms—god, really and truly, his arms—and they reluctantly broke apart, both pairs of eyes shining. It was then that Grissom saw the shift in her eyes—a shift he had not often seen, but which he remembered exactly. He had witnessed it twice—when his mentor had implied she had moved evidence to protect her EMT boyfriend, and when he picked her up to take her home after the DUI. She felt she had let him down.

"Grissom… uh…" She took in a deep, shaking breath, but he cut her off.

"Grissom? Sara, you… you haven't called me that outside the lab for… years."

And then Ian came up to them, and as Grissom's hands were still resting on Sara's waist, he felt more than saw the way she jumped upon realizing he was there, and then his hands were empty.

"Ian! …This is, uh, Gil Grissom, forensic entomologist. Uh, Griss—Gil, this is Ian Peterson, marine biologist."

If Sara had not now looked afraid at his presence, Grissom would have worried that she'd moved on—that he had been too late to come to his senses and 'up the ante'. Grissom extended a hand to the man, and they shook cordially, but he did not fail to notice the possessive way he now held Sara's waist, nor that she seemed to be hiding the fact that his grip hurt her.

"Ian, um… I'm gonna catch up with... Grissom, for a minute. Unexpected surprise, you know?" She drew in another shaky breath but he nodded, the hand moving from her waist to the back of her neck and turning her head—too forcefully—to his for a kiss. She had tears in her eyes when he pulled away—having never wanted Grissom to see her with another man—but he left them, and that was imperative right now.

She turned a guilty eye back to Gil, her eyes pleading for understanding, and he tried very, very hard to put his hurt aside until he understood what was going on. She led him into her tent and then broke down, sitting on her camp bed and crying. She struggled to stop herself, drawing in gasping sobs, because now was not the moment to be weak. He had come for her—she must explain herself.

And then she felt herself cradled against his chest, and her pain immediately eased. He smelled wonderful—a mixture of his deodorant and his soap and his body's natural musk. When she had calmed herself, she felt him gently drawing her face up, forcing her eyes to meet his.

"Whatever it is, it doesn't matter to me, Sara. Do you… do you still love me?"

Tears fell silently down her cheeks now. "I do."

He smiled, wiping them with his thumb. "Do you want to come home with me? Today?" The sooner they were away from whatever was scaring her, the better.

She nodded, swallowing hard. He hugged her tightly and pulled back again to survey her face. "Why don't you pack up your things…? I'll go talk to someone about getting a ride to the airport."

"No!"

He was startled by the urgency and fear in her voice. "Gil, don't… don't leave me alone. I'm afraid… while you're gone…"

He took her shoulders gently. "Okay, darling, okay. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. We'll pack up together. Is all of your stuff in here? Come on, where's your suitcases?"

And so they packed up all of Sara's belongings together, which were not many, and made their way down to the only building in the immediate area—a small medical center attached to a garage and an even smaller office. Grissom stayed no further than a half foot away from her, and once he had explained that there had been a family emergency—a death in the family, to explain away her tears—and that they needed to get to the nearest airport, they were glad to arrange for a car and the pair loaded their belongings in silence.

Grissom desperately wanted to know what had happened to put a fear in her eyes that not even Vegas could have managed, but he knew that it was neither the time nor place. They waited by the car, not wishing to encounter anyone else while they waited—they were told it could be up to an hour until someone was free to drive them—and Grissom hesitantly put his arm around her waist.

She did not cringe in pain or fear, as she had when the other man had had his hands on her, but seemed relieved to feel him touching her and leaned against his shoulder, eyes closing. "I'm so glad you're here, Gil…"

He opened his mouth to respond, but the words never made it out. The person they had waited here to avoid had sought them out instead.

"What's going on here? Sara?"

She stood up to pull away from him, scared, but Gil narrowed his eyes and firmly kept his arm around her—it was possessive, but there was something different about the way Grissom staked his claim and the way Ian did. He possessed her only because she wanted him to, and she possessed him as well… less about property, more about devotion.

Some color returned to Sara's cheeks when he did this, and she leaned her body back against him, though it was still tensed, allowing him to set the tone of the interaction. It made him smile—it was trust mixed with a desire to be his.

"We're leaving." Sara was surprised by the authority behind his voice. He spoke calmly, even politely, but it was nonnegotiable.

"Really? I wonder if Sara has told you what she's running from…? Don't you think she'll run from it whether she's here or in Vegas—maybe even more so in Vegas?"

"We won't be in Vegas."

"Did she tell you that she could be carrying my baby as we speak?" Although these words rattled Grissom, he had spent years interrogating criminals—he was nothing if not capable of a poker face.

"Should I consider that a confession of her rape, or will your semen and her bruises have to do the confessing for you?"

"It isn't rape if she enjoyed it… begged me to take her… said you could never get her off the way I could."

Grissom looked disgusted at the other man's words, the glint in his eyes. "This is disgusting and you are disgusting. I don't know yet exactly what you did to put a fear in her eyes that not a thousand corpses and their unrepentant killers could, but you will never, ever touch her again."

Ian jerked strangely, as if to reach forward and grab her from him, but Grissom was quicker, and then she was behind him, pressed between his body and the vehicle they had been leaning against. "And if you really think I would be threatened by a man who was so obviously chosen because he's poor man's version of me… well, then, you're not smart enough to even be a good imitation."

This made him angry, and Sara was scared that they would fight, and Gil would get hurt, but Ian just looked around him, overly aware of others in range of sight, even if they would not have heard the exchange. Someone walked out into the garage then, and Ian walked off angrily. They rode in silence to the airport, her left hand on his knee, sandwiched between both of his, the fingers on his right hand trailing anxiously over the bruising there, but they did not discuss it yet.

When they finally arrived at the airport, they were hot and thirsty. Grissom pulled out a credit card she and him had gotten together—an 'emergencies only' credit card—to pay for their tickets home. Although it was quite expensive, she was moderately surprised… he generally kept a good deal of money in his checking account at any given time. Maybe he was worried about the vacation days he must have taken to come retrieve her…

She smiled—it was nice that they were paying for their escape together. "I missed you, Gil." She hugged him, her arms around his waist, and he smiled.

"I missed you too, Sara. Can we… talk yet or…"

"…Let's see if we can find a place where we won't be…overheard."

They moved through the terminal, checking no luggage—they had both come with only enough for a carry on, though Sara had to stuff her purse in her already small bag so that she could claim her kit was her 'personal item' that she was allowed in addition to the carry on.

It was crowded, the air filled with Spanish—it was dizzying, a constant hum swirling around her—and she was relieved to find a quiet corner to sit down and wait for their flight. She sighed heavily, not wanting to see the disappointment and disgust in his eyes when she told him that she had begun her relationship with Ian willingly…

She swallowed hard, looking at her feet. It was he who broke the silence, not her. "How are your wrists? Do they hurt?"

She looked down at them as if seeing them for the first time—they looked worse than they had this morning in the bathroom. They would probably be darker yet tomorrow. Of course Gil would have noticed—would have known. She shrugged meekly, but let him inspect them more freely.

"When… did it happen?" Her eyes lifted, almost dully, to his. If she tried to keep her distance, maybe she could get through this without breaking down again.

"When did I sleep with him or when did he rape me?"

The question was simple—intoned without expression—but it communicated her sin to him, proving his suspicions to be right; she had chosen this man, albeit for his similarities to himself. He let his eyes drift for a moment as he often needed to whilst thinking, and then met her eyes again.

"…Both, I guess." There was no malice in his voice. She blinked back her tears.

"…maybe… three weeks after I sent you the video. When you didn't respond I… I thought you had taken the way out I'd given you, and were happy for it. I didn't… love him, Gil. I didn't even like him. He was just…"

"He reminded you of me."

Her eyes closed heavily and he took it as assent.

"When did it stop being… consensual?" His eyes tightened in pain, but he did not waver—Sara was a victim in this moment, and he needed to worry about her before he thought of himself. She drew in a shuddering breath.

"When I got sick… I stayed in my cabin… probably only saw him about an hour a day. I didn't notice the change until we landed, but my distance is probably what set him off… It was in Costa Rica that I noticed… He would never hit me but… I felt like he expected obedience and if I… if I didn't… I was scared of him, even though he never touched me… So when he'd come to my tent I… I didn't feel like I could say no without…" She took another deep breath and wiped the tears that had begun to trail down her cheeks away impatiently. "Last night was… the only time it was… violent."

He pulled her to his chest without a word and she clung there, drawing in gasping breaths and attempting to restrain the tears that came and came now, no matter how often she wiped them away. When she had calmed a little, he chanced another question. "And the… baby… comment?"

Her eyes hardened in response, and she sniffled loudly in disgust. "We always used a condom. I wouldn't let… I didn't want…"

She could not describe the revulsion she felt, struggling to explain that even though she had hidden her loneliness in the arms and the bed of another man, she had still been unwilling to have him touching her so intimately without a barrier. Gil was the only man she wanted to be that close to her… Words failed her, but the look on his face implied that he understood, a little, and so she continued instead with her larger explanation.

"But last night he… didn't…" the tears started again, and Grissom was now wiping them gently from her cheeks as she spoke. "And he kept… telling me that…" She drew another shuddering breath. "He…ejaculated…" She used the formal word, in hopes of feeling more like she was on a case than describing her own life, "four…five times… He made me lay on the ground with my… my feet…" She swallowed a sob and sniffled again, struggling to get the words out, "…with my feet up so that it would… I would…"

He understood, and kissed the tears on each of her cheeks gently. "But you're on birth control, right?" He did not seem worried—it was his actions which hurt her, not his poorly concocted plans. When she didn't answer, he shook her shoulder, starting to panic. "Sara, you're still on the pill, aren't you?"

She drew in a deep breath and met his eyes. "He didn't get me pregnant, Gil."

"You're…sure? How do you know?" He looked down at her stomach, as if the words 'pregnant' or 'not pregnant' would be stamped there for clarification purposes. She laughed a little, and the sound startled him—he hadn't heard her laugh in so long.

"I'm sure."

"How do you know?"

"I know." She responded, and her shortness confused him. Maybe it was a part of the rape she didn't want to discuss… but that didn't make sense. Why would he have raped her…other places…if he had wanted her to get pregnant? And why was it that he wanted that again?

"Why did he want you pregnant?"

"I didn't need him."

He tilted his head, confused. She elaborated.

"He tried to talk me into moving to Boston…even just visiting Boston… I refused, I made excuses, I made bad jokes about tea parties… but no matter how he tried to convince me, and no matter how scared he could tell I was, I didn't back down. And I never cried in front of him… I never told him things that were personal—he knew about the lab, but he knew nothing about my past or my future. How else was he going to hold me?"

They sat in silence for several minutes, Grissom's jaw set tight, Sara's mind going back over her own statements. "He… he untied me, once I started crying… after I'd been lying naked on the cold floor of the tent for nearly an hour with my legs in the air…" She paused again and he watched her, knowing she wasn't done yet. This was how she vented… in bits and pieces all fractured together to fit a larger problem. "I wish I hadn't let him see that… I wish he had left me tied up all night instead."

Grissom nodded, knowing it would be useless to tell her that it was better that she'd been untied—she viewed crying in front of him as a win for him and a loss for her… arguing that wouldn't help them right now. He glanced around, as if to make sure, and then asked the question he had been putting off.

"Sara… I'll need to do an SAE kit on you… have you showered… since?"

She trembled. "I took swabs…and pictures…before I showered."

"You know that it isn't admissible if you collect it…"

"It's hardly admissible if a man I lived with and planned to marry collects it… the D.A. would laugh at you."

"There's no one else who can do it though. They would make an exception."

"You weren't there this morning, Gil. I had no idea how long I would have to wait before I could get away from him… and I wasn't going to leave any part of him on me for even a second longer than it took to process myself and hide the evidence."

"I know, honey. I'm sorry."

She smiled softly, a hand reaching up to touch his cheek. "I've missed that… missed you… so much. …I'm sorry that I left, again… it was a bad time."

He smiled too, having long since forgiven her. "I'm sorry it took me so long to come after you…"

He kissed her gently, hesitantly, worrying that the night she had just experienced would make her adverse to such things, but she returned the kiss deeply, urgently, almost desperately. He tried to pull from her and she would not break the kiss, until finally he was laughing against her lips as she held him.

"Sara, I'm not going anywhere…" She smiled a little sheepishly at how well he knew her.

"Just…making up for lost time…"

He smiled, looking at her luscious lips again, and then frowned.

"What?" She asked, disliking the new pucker to his previously smiling features.

He placed a hand gently to her chin and turned her face, to inspect the left corner of her mouth. It looked red, raw, almost like she had a cut there…or as if the skin had torn. He gently tilted her head to reveal the other side, seeing the same thing.

"Sara…"

She pulled her face out of his hands. "All the tents are fairly close together… I'm sure he worried that I would scream. …I tried to scream."

He did not respond, but pulled her tight to him and did not let go until their flight was called and they got up to board the plane. When they had sat down again, he looked at her—the way the airplane lights hit her face threw the lines on it into sharp relief. She had heavy bags under her eyes.

"Why don't you try to sleep, honey? It's going to be a long flight…" She frowned a little, but did feel exhausted. "I'll be right here the whole time."

She grumbled, feeling the need to argue without necessarily having a good reason why. "What happens when you have to go to the bathroom? 'It's going to be a long flight…'" She quoted him.

He smiled, unable to be mad now that she was his again. "I'll wake you before I go."

She smiled a little. "Do you remember the first time we were ever on a plane together?"

"Yeah, of course. We were processing a jet… you told me how you'd joined the mile high club…" He chuckled. "If there hadn't been a million reasons why I couldn't… I would have taken you there in that bathroom and shown you that it was the guy who was overrated, not the experience."

She giggled. "We wouldn't have had the experience, we weren't in the air…"

He leaned in to her and nipped her ear gently with his teeth, causing her to gasp softly. "It still would have trumped the hazel-eyed T.A."

"How do you remember all that?"

His blue eyes were intense. "I remember everything."