Disclaimers: I do not own any of the characters in CSI or the rights to the show itself. However, I would like to thank CBS for letting me take the characters out to play.

I would also like to thank my beta: mbbowman/swismiself. She has put her time and effort into editing this and I greatly appreciate it. I know that she has other things to do with her time than devote it to my whimsy, so you are a star in my eyes.

I guess I should let you in on the fact that this is pre-season 6, and although it is GSR it is not pre-existing.

This is another short chapter... But I have smut on my brain for the other story I am working on... I a.m off to write... More and more and more... Thanks for all of your generous reviews

Chapter 10 – Remediation

It actually said in the blurb about the hotel room, 'roll-always available'. That was a lie… There were roll-aways in existence in the hotel; it was just that they weren't actually available. At this point Sara hated the Ritz and all of the government agencies who though it appropriate to cram four bodies into a two bed hotel room, since it was with out a doubt those people who were in possession of the items in question…

The bottom line, of course, was that she and Grissom were stuck sharing a bed. One bed - albeit a king-sized bed - but that didn't make matters any better, since Sara suspected that it could very well have been the size of the entire upper floor, and still would not have been large enough for her reluctant roommate.

A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she stared into the bathroom mirror. Grissom had taken it all in stride, stating that it would be okay… but she knew better. His demeanor had changed yet again and he had flipped from funny, playful entomologist, into solemn bugman in a matter of seconds.

Their relationship was just way too complicated, and it was about to be made even more so by the fact that Sara slept in the nude. Wearing pajamas was a concession she was eagerly willing to make in order to make an already strained situation less so, but unfortunately she hadn't actually packed any. The closest she could come was a fairly tight tank and a pair of soft fleece shorts, which actually lived up to their name, since they were truly very short.

Things did not bode well, she decided, as she finished up brushing her teeth and pulled her cyclonic curls up into a ponytail. "Well, best be getting on with it…" she mumbled and opened the door to the bathroom.

Delaying the inevitable would only result in one thing; her falling asleep on the restroom floor - something which, at this point, just might be preferable to what she had facing her.

"Hey…" Her heart danced at the sight of a pajama-clad Grissom sitting in one of the regal wing chairs. He was going over his notes for his lecture scheduled at noon the next day and tossed a cursory glance her way before resuming his reading. It was a slight epiphany for the young CSI, a personal look at how he must appear in unguarded moments at home. Crossing the room Sara stood by the foot of the bed for a moment. "If it's okay with you – I'm going to…uh…" She indicated the bed.

"Yeah, go ahead." He said cordially enough. But the fact that he refused to look at her relayed a message that was lout and clear, he wasn't so easy about the whole situation.

"Do you have a side you prefer?"

That did draw his attention. "Huh?" He tossed a glance her way his eyes immediately falling to her feet the minute he absorbed what it was she had on. How was it possible to look so sexy in shorts and a tank? This thought consumed all others momentarily andit took him a moment to realize that she was still talking to him.

"A side…" She indicated the bed. "Is there one side you favor for sleeping on? Or do you just crash in the middle or something."

"As you reminded me earlier, we have slept together before. You don't remember?"

Playful Grissom was clearly back. All this switching was making her head spin.

Sara fixed him with a cool stare, hoping at the same time that he couldn't see the rapid beating of her heart through her thin cotton tank.

In all the time they'd known each other since that fateful night, he had never once uttered a word about it. Men had died for less, yet it had gone unacknowledged by mutual agreement since the morning after the night before, when he'd deemed it all a mistake.

She pursed her lips slightly and then licked some moisture back into them, before deciding against scratching his eyes out, which was her first instinct. Instead, she chose in favor of tossing the emotional grenade he'd just lobbed right back into his lap. Her voice dropped dramatically and it took on the usual husky tone that she knew had moved lesser men to an orgasm. "What I remember from that night, aside from the circumstance, was that for the most part we didn't do much actual sleeping, so it's a moot point." She smiled slightly, simply daring him to continue the present line of conversation.

Grissom's own heart jumped at her words as he swallowed heavily. What was he thinking? The answer was simple… He wasn't… at least clearly not with the right head. True to his usual self, his subconscious backed fearfully away. "Right…" He intoned softly, his interest immediately returning to the folder in his hands, his mind trying to shake the image of her slightly exposed belly, and the colorfully jeweled dragonfly hanging from it.

Sara's eyebrows rose up her forehead, and she waited. When he wasn't forthcoming with anything else, she placed her hands on her hips. "I'm sorry?"

He looked up from his file, dark blue eyes gazing somewhere between the headboard and the picture to the right of her head - anything to prevent himself from indulging in the long, lean, sensual vision she presented. "The right side… I usually sleep on the right side…" He reiterated, and then turned his attention back to his presentation.

Sara rolled her eyes, and smoothed down the bedding on the left hand side. "Well..." she said, sliding between the cool silken sheets. "Goodnight…" Rolling over, Sara drifted almost immediately into an exhausted and numbing sleep.

It had to be around 2 am when Sara awoke to a fully lit room and a wicked thunderstorm outside the sliders. Startled awake by a loud rumble, she sat up instantly only to find a sleeping Grissom hunched over in the same chair she'd last seen him in. His notes were scattered about on the floor, and soft snores were emanating from his chest. After the evening he had put her through she seriously contemplated leaving him there, but the odd angle his head hung at was almost painful to look at. He would be hurting in the morning.

An exhausted sigh escaped her and she climbed out bed.

Sucker, her head screamed, while her heart simply beat a little faster.

The first thing she did was collect his notes off the floor and try to place them in some semblance of an order. She wasn't terribly successful since her brain was still a little addled from the few hours of sleep she'd had, so she dropped them on the small table beside the chair, and then turned back to sleeping grumpy.

Stifling a laugh, the skinny brunette shook her head minutely. Grissom's glasses sat absurdly twisted on the bridge of his nose and he looked like every bit the geek he was. He didn't even stir when she removed them and his watch, and moved over to set both items on the bedside table. It was a testament to how tired he must have been.

Stripping down the linens, Sara turned and studied him a moment. In sleep he looked considerably younger than his fifty years. This was the man she had fallen in love with all those years ago in San Francisco. Too bad he didn't feel the same… Her heart clenched agonizingly in acceptance of this fact.

"Gris…" She called softly and shook him.

His only response was a groggy mumble.

"Gris…" She shook a little harder and was rewarded with two sleepy blue eyes staring blankly up at her. "Come on." She slipped her arm around his waist and helped him to his feet. "Bedtime for you bossman," she told him, at the same time leading him carefully to the bed.

He weighed heavily on her and dropped instantly onto the firm mattress once they'd reached it. Prone to habit, his body instinctively curled over onto its left side, and he buried his head the soft yielding pillow, a contented sigh escaping his lips.

The young CSI had a difficult lecture to give first thing in the morning. Aside from being terribly nervous, Sara Sidle was in dire need of all the sleep she could get, so she followed suit. One flick of the light switch cast the room into almost complete darkness, and a minute later she was back in bed, the thick comforter pulled up around both of them.

She was careful to keep her distance, and managed it quite well until a loud clap of lightening shocked the ground almost directly outside their window. Not that she was scared or anything, but she immediately felt the masculine form of one Gil Grissom pressed warmly up against her back, one of his thick arms immediately wrapping itself around her waist.

And this was how she fell asleep; contented, comforted, and safe. A final thought tracked dangerously through her head as she drifted between twilight and REM sleep. Grissom had no choice but to stay this time. After all it was his room…

TBC