Disclaimer: These characters are the property of CBS, inc.

Spoiler: Ghosts

Thanks for staying with me. The romance part is hard. There are much more skilled writers out there in that regard. Plus I am aware that many readers are younger, and I do not want to be a purveyor of anything that is not appropriate. I have received a variety of feedback as to moving too quickly or too slowly. I am happy for it. Truly. I think it is important to critique what you are reading. Plus I think you are right about this. This story has been paced oddly, and I don't know why. I know that right now, I need to focus on different projects in my life, but have prioritized this because I love this, and I think that the weird pacing might be related to that. I have been pretty committed to posting every day or day and a half. As a reader, I am always frustrated when chapters come at widely spaced intervals. Sometimes, I am reading a chapter, and then read that the one previous was written three months earlier. And I get pretty obsessed with the continuity. If and when I write another story, I think I will write the whole thing before I post. I think I will be happiest that way.

Anyway, now you know that the writer is just as angst ridden as the story. There will be two more chapters. They will happen over the weekend. I have to prepare for a class I am teaching this weekend, and have to prioritize that in front of this 'cause that actually pays. I appreciate my readers. You have brought joy to what is otherwise a pretty work intensive lifestyle. Thanks again for taking the time. It sounds a little like a farewell, but I still have two more chapters and the last one promises to be quite interesting.

Sheila

No Rest for the Weary

Chapter 11

Grissom's joke about the condoms went over like a lead balloon so he retreated to the living room and sunk into the couch. The only conversation she was sending his way came in the form of thinly veiled threats. Adding insult to injury, the TV had been removed so any safety he might seek in the Discovery channel was lost to him. Strangely, he found this to be the most galling part of this whole situation.

At one point, she dragged a shower curtain into the living room and began cutting it up with a scissors. She began to wrap it around her feet.

"Are you going to try to walk to the highway with a shower curtain tied to your feet?"

She shot him a look.

He put up his hands. "Ah, just asking."

She continued to wrap the curtain around her feet in various ways, using duct tape but, unable to fit it exactly right. Grissom watched with some curiosity for awhile, and then braved in. "You know, it was 100 degrees out yesterday. Tomorrow is supposed to be hotter. A nine mile hike through Nevada desert would not be recommended under the best of circumstances. Your curtain shoes would probably last less than a mile."

For a few minutes, she ignored him. Then she finally threw up her hands, and pushed the material away.

"Maybe we should talk." he said.

She got up and walked away. He turned his head to find her rifling through the cupboards in the kitchen. She opened one cupboard and turned to him. "Thirsty?"

He looked at her warily.

"Found the booze. Heard you'd taken up drinking. Want some bourbon?"

He closed his eyes. The thought of a drink made a lot of sense right now. The tension was thick, and an area in the left side of his lower back had started to throb with pain. Relaxing would make a big difference in his life right now. He nodded at her.

She smiled sweetly, her eyes narrowed. Then she pulled a glass out of the cupboard, and set it down in the sink. She turned the bottle on end, and began pouring the liquid recklessly into the sink. "Oops! Seems to be missing the glass."

He winced. "Sara, that's pretty expensive stuff."

"Exactly!" She let all of the amber liquor pour out and then set it back on the counter. "You are not hiding away in a bottle of booze. You should know better."

He swallowed hard.

She reached for the other bottles in the cupboard, and began to pour them two fisted down the drain.

"Sara, I don't even really like liquor. You don't have to pour it away."

"Ha! I don't care. I want Mr. Busybody Worthington to get a little consequence of his own when he gets back."

"Oh. In that case, the cupboard over the refrigerator has the 12 year old scotch."

She flashed him an actual smile and climbed on the counter, pulling down the scotch, cognac, and brandy. Without hesitation, she emptied them all.

"This actually makes you feel better?" he asked.

She concentrated for a moment. "Yes!"

"Good to know." He scanned the room for reading material and frowned when all he saw was a collection of trade paperbacks and a pile of Good Housekeeping magazines. He leaned back and closed his eyes. He tried a mediation exercise his physical therapist taught, but, after 15 minute, the dull ache in his back still throbbed. It was too much to expect that Brass would have left his Vicodin, and, in the back of his mind, Grissom was glad. He was already taking the drug three weeks longer than recommended by his doctor. A dependence was building in him, and he knew he would have to confront it soon enough.

For awhile, sounds of Sara ransacking the house served as background noise to his meditation. After awhile a silence descended. He opened his eyes and looked around. She was no where in sight. Fear started to grow in his gut. He worried that she had tried to take off. He pulled himself up grimacing against the stabbing pain in his back. In the hallway, he heard her or thought he did. Sounds of crying came from a bedroom. He looked in the door and saw her in the light reflected from the hallway sitting cross legged on the floor in the midst of overturned drawers, old sweaters and other apparel strewn around her. Tears were streaming down her face. Sobs hiccupped from her heaving chest.

"Sara. Honey, what's wrong?" He whispered from the doorway.

She looked up and saw him. She squeezed her eyes shut and waved him away. Grissom stayed rooted to his spot. He spoke softly to her. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. You deserve so much better."

She dropped her head into her hands and let sobs rack her slight frame.

Grissom thought better of turning on the light in the room. He walked up to the bedroom and used it to anchor himself as he lowered himself to the ground beside her. Tentatively, he reached over and lightly stroked her back. "Making you so sad is the worst thing I've ever done."

She elbowed his arm away from her. "Do they think this is funny? Trapping me in a house with you. Do they think this is a joke?" She rubbed at her wet face.

"To be fair, Sara, I think they care very much. I just don't think they thought this through." He sat beside her, but was careful to give her space.

"I'm this pathetic woman who just wouldn't give up. And everyone has been watching this for years. Why do I do this to myself? What's wrong with me?" Her words came out in fits and starts.

"You are not pathetic. You are lovely and stubborn, and I don't know anyone who sees it otherwise." Without touching her, he talked low and close to her ear.

"Why do I love you? I don't understand it anymore." She looked at him with his large, wet eyes.

Grissom felt a deep sadness grow in him. He reached over and stroked the tears from her cheek. "I don't know. I just know that I am a very lucky and stupid man."

She brushed away his hand and spoke in a low voice. "Don't feel sorry for me, Grissom."

He caught her arm and held it. "I'm not capable of it. How do you feel sorry for someone who you love so dearly?"

She shook her head. "Don't, please. It's just so confusing."

He pulled her stiff, struggling form over, and hugged her tightly. "None of this is your fault. You fell for a man lost to his own emotions. I don't why I'm that way. Maybe it hurt too badly when my father left. I don't remember it like that, but I don't have another explanation. But all of this hasn't stopped me from loving you in my heart." She stopped struggling and lay her head on his chest. He pushed her hair off her face, and began stroking her cheek. "I worry that I can't do right by you, and because of that, I am afraid to try."

She nestled her face into his neck, and it was all he could do to keep from reaching down for her lips. She whispered into his skin. "Gil, I can't be in this ambiguous place anymore. The angst between what you want to do and what you can do is too much for me. I'm done. I won't ever ask another thing of you. If you want me, it's your turn." She raised her face and looked into his eyes.

"I want you." His voice was low and raspy. His hand slid down behind her neck and pulled her to him. His kiss was crushing and she fought for air. She pulled away from his face and studied his eyes. "This is more than just a moment in time, Grissom. Can you handle that?"

For a long moment they stayed like this, and then Grissom reached again. This time he took his time, kissing her gently, moving from her mouth across her cheek to her ear. She smiled at his soft, insistent kisses, and then pulled his mouth back to hers, biting his lower lip. For a long time, they sat like this, against an old oak dresser, making out like a couple of teen-agers. His kisses fell lower and lower below her collarbone and she began to giggle. "Always wondered what was going on under there, haven't you?" She reached around her middle and began to pull up her shirt. He stopped her, replacing her hands with his. Her cotton top slid easily over her arms and off. He smiled at her, and reached his hands around her back. She was surprised at his dexterity, her bra coming off almost immediately. His touch was gentle and sweet, and she let him explore. He leaned over and whispered in her ear, "I am thinking that you, myself, and my back could find somewhere a little more comfortable to continue this."

With no sense of embarrassment, she stood up shirtless and helped him to his feet. Taking his hand, she led him into the bedroom they knew. He laid down gently on the bed, and she lay beside him. Grissom ran his hands up and down her torso, and she stared at him, eyes wide. "There's no going back now, Gil."

He shook his head. "I wouldn't want to."

She slid away from him, and headed into the bathroom.

"Sara?" he called after her.

Her voice came floating out. "How many condoms will you be needing tonight? 17, 18. Will we have enough to last us the whole weekend?"

………………………………...

TBC