May 2004

She didn't look at him when he sat down next to her. She only acknowledged his presence by returning the pressure of his hand. When he said "I'll take you home," she simply nodded once.

The drive to her apartment probably rated among the top three most silent car rides of Grissom's experience and he couldn't remember the other two. She breathed so quietly that he might have mistaken her for dead were it not for the periodic blinking of her eyes. He wondered if she was trying to become invisible or just vanish from the vehicle altogether. He guessed the latter. It would have been his wish in her place.

His restless thoughts more then compensated for the lack of noise in the car, however. He wanted to shake her, hold her and kick himself all at the same time. He wanted to yell "What were you thinking? You could have died!" but he had some idea of what she had been thinking, and as for life and death, at that moment she didn't appear to care much one way or the other. He wanted to ask "Why didn't you talk to me?" but he already knew the answer. She had talked to him. He had pushed her away, passed it off as her being overly competitive or over talking, told himself that it was just one case, that she would get over it…

He wanted to tell her that she didn't have to do this. That he would be there for her instead, but he was afraid that he wouldn't be and terrified that she wouldn't let him. He wished that he had listened to Brass the first time.

He pulled into a place at her apartment building and they sat in the thick, stifling silence for a few moments before Sara unclipped her seat belt. He scrambled for something to say before she got out and left. Tomorrow he would have to be her supervisor, but tonight he could try to be her friend. "I'll pick you up in the morning so you can get your car."

"I can take a cab," she replied dully. It was the first she had spoken. She opened her door and got out. He unbelted himself and followed her.

"Let me do this, as a friend."

She laughed humorlessly. "You still feel the need to specify, don't you? God Griss, I can take a hint. You don't have to be afraid of that anymore."

He swallowed the sting of her words and pushed past them. "I know you can do it yourself, but you don't have to. Let me help you Sara. It's ok to let people help you sometimes."

"No Grissom," she said, her voice utterly dead. "It really isn't ok to let people help. The more you let them help you, the more they have to use against you. I do have to do everything myself. That's just the way it is."

"Do you really think that I'd do that to you? Help you and then hold it over your head?"

"I don't know what to believe!" she burst out, finally breaking her dead tone. "It's always on my head! And it doesn't matter what either of us thinks at this moment anyway. That's what will happen, what always does."

He waited a moment to make sure that she had finished, then said quietly, "I wouldn't"

"Damn it Grissom," she whispered brokenly, abruptly turning her back on him and tilting her face up to the night sky.

"You don't have to be an island Sara."

"That's funny Griss," her voice cracked on his name, "coming from you."

They stood in stillness broken only by passing cars. He knew that she was crying, but her back was ramrod straight and her shoulders were still. He wondered at her control. He walked up behind her, hesitated a moment, then placed a hand on her shoulder. She tensed and he wondered if she would hit him, but she gradually relaxed and leaned back into him slightly.

"We were friends," he began, "but I haven't been doing a very good job on my end for a while. I'd like to try and fix that, if that's acceptable."

"I—" She shook her head and stepped forward, away from him. "I'll see you in the morning."

"I'll be here." He understood that she wasn't ready to believe him, but it was a start. "Goodnight Sara, take care of yourself."

She nodded and began making her way toward the stairs. "Goodnight." He was almost to his car when he heard her say it. "Be safe."