Author's Note: Right. Like Grissom wasn't going to tell anyone how he knew sign language. Right.


So, you going to tell us how you learned to sign?

No…Sara, you see deafness as a pathology. For Dr. Gilbert, her deafness is not her handicap, it's her way of life…As long as you see this as us versus them, you're going to have problems on this case.


"You're seriously not going to tell me."

He sighed and sank down onto her couch. "I'll tell you."

She sat beside him, curling up her legs underneath her. He took a slow sip of the Scotch she had poured for him. She had not even bothered to tell Warrick that she knew what Grissom drank and where he went many nights. No reason to go down that scary and potentially job-ending road.

"My mother is deaf. I learned to sign as a child to communicate with her."

"Oh." Sara twisted her hands together. They had talked about work, science, art, music, and any other things they had in common—or not—but never personal things, never their families or their childhoods. Something in her warmed at the sharing, and another part of her froze up, hoping he would not expect something in return.

That was a much more frightening road.

"Anyway, it's not surprising that you and Warrick had a difficult time with Dr. Gilbert. Most hearing people don't have a lot of firsthand experience with the deaf, and knowing the polite or even appropriate ways to approach and communicate can be hard to master."

"I'm glad you were there," Sara said honestly, reaching for his glass and taking her own sip. He smiled and took the glass from her.

"Sara." His voice was very soft, and the way he said her name, a bit tremulous. Even though it had only been a month since their friendship had evolved, she was already learning to interpret the ways he had of saying her name, and what they meant. He lifted his hand, spelled the letters of her name with his fingers. "Sara…"

He wanted to kiss her, and then he wanted to touch her. His voice told her that, but first she had to know. "Is that my name?"

"Yes." He started to lean forward, but she stopped him with a hand in the center of his chest.

"Show me yours."

He started to spell out Grissom, but she stopped him. "No, because if that was my name before, then I'm seeing r's and s's. Show me your first name."

His hand trembled slightly before he spelled it out for her, watching her slender fingers mimic his movements. Gilbert.

"No one calls me that," he said, a little defiantly. She imagined it was the same tone he'd used as a child with teachers and maiden aunts. "I hate the way it sounds."

She traced the letters with her fingers again, a quick study. "I love the way it looks. Show me mine again."

And he did, until she was spelling his name and her name over and over. Gilbert Sara Gilbert Sara Gilbert Sara…

"God, I love your hands," he breathed, clasping her wrists with his own hands and tugging her into his arms. He kissed her until she was gasping for air.

"I love yours," she replied, and with a soft growl he pulled her to her feet and down the hall, to her bedroom, a temple in which he loved to worship. He used his hands to bare her skin to his lips, to trace the letters of her name on her stomach, her thighs, and all down her spine, and to bring her to a shuddering orgasm against his mouth. She used hers to guide him inside her, to drag her nails down his back, and to caress his cheek as he groaned out her name.

"Sign language is pretty," she admitted, curled up into his side afterward. "But I'm glad I'm not deaf."

"Why's that?" he asked softly.

"Because my name on your lips is the most beautiful sound I've ever heard."