A/N: Another chapter-we will probably post multiple chapters tomorrow, hoping to end this one before Sunday-but then maybe we should continue for a while after the finale movie-

CSI: Endurance

Chapter 11

Breathless, Sara stepped back; she had no intention of this happening. She wanted to swear, but the man's sheepish smile, his tantalizing eyes seemed to swallow her intent.

"We—we need to talk, Gil. In private—not in this lab," she managed a gruff laugh, "not with David Hodges standing between us."

When Grissom shrugged, glancing around the empty room, saying, "Looks like we're alone now," she wanted to walk away—and did turn away.

She said, "D.B.'s office—your old one—we need to talk." Then she did walk—striding as fast as possible without running—toward D.B.'s office.

Once inside, she closed the door and the blinds. When she turned toward Grissom, he looked as comfortable as he had ever looked, hands in pockets, that teasing smile on his face.

It took a force she seldom used to vocalize her words, forcing down raw emotions, as she said, "I want explanations, Gil." When he made a move toward her, she held up her hand. "I can't—I don't want this to be physical—don't touch me—I want an explanation!"

When he responded with a puzzled look, saying, "I'm so sorry, Sara."

Rushing her words, she replied, "I don't want to hear it—I want to know why you disappeared from my life for nearly two years! I want to know how—why you knew where to find Heather Kessler! I want to know how—why you kept in touch with her—and not me!" She whirled around, pulling one of the chairs in front of her, using it as much for support as for a barrier.

He winced. "Don't be like that, Sara. No matter what has happened to you in the past, you've always been sweet, kind, and that's what is so endearing—what I love. Don't change. I—I know I've done a terrible thing to you—but don't change. You would not be Sara—my Sara—anymore."

Sara could not believe what she was hearing. Doing a half-turn, she stared at the wall—at nothing—for a long moment. When she turned to face him, he could see her eyes, brighter, harder.

She said, "I am not 'your Sara'—I never was! You want to place me in a frame like one of your butterflies! You want me on a shelf until the day you—you decide to pick me up and approve of what I'm doing! All the years I've loved you, Gil, and you're still chasing something I don't have—something I can't give you." Her voice trembled as she continued. "You are chasing something out there that you'll never have! When you could—if only you'd give us a chance—you could have everything a man could want—you are like that moth beating its self to death against a flame when out in the cool night there are so many more things to enjoy!"

She turned her back to him so he wouldn't see tears falling from her eyes as she placed her hand over her face.

A few seconds later, she felt a tissue touch her hand and took it. She felt Grissom's hand on her shoulder, across her back, pulling her to his chest. Softly, he said, "I've been so wrong—about so many things." Whispering, his voice soft against her ear, "I am sorry—I've been selfish—leaving you alone, abandoning all the plans we made. And we did make plans—not just your plans—and like an idiot, I walked away."

"Why, Gil? Why did she know where you were?" Sara said, her words muffled into his shirt.

He did not let her go as he moved another chair so they could sit, facing each other. Keeping her hands in his, he said, "Explanations provide no reason for hurting you—I got busy with other things—forgot to make time for the one person I love more than all others." He grimaced, "It's a bad habit I have."

Shifting so their legs intertwined, he leaned closer, moving her hands with his to his chin. "In Japan, I heard about, then saw what was happening to dolphins—something you never want to see. Not just dolphins, but sharks—killing thousands to make soup. After that, I went to Mexico—and I was studying butterflies for a while but then a couple of other men and I went fishing. We couldn't believe what we were seeing—massive slaughter of these wonderful fish—all for their swim bladders! To use in soup."

As he related his story, Sara's mouth opened and closed several times. He crossed the border several times, all legal entries, he said, and then he had someone approach him about a loosely organized group named 'OceanPeace'.

"I agreed to work with them—but was advised to be transparent, sell property or put it in someone's name, keep family contact to a minimum. I—I only had you—I didn't want to get you involved with—with this." He kissed her hand. "I needed to provide one contact—and—and I wanted to protect you. It doesn't make any sense, does it? But I didn't want you to know what I was doing—and we were breaking laws."

He lifted one hand to her face and wiped a track of tears away. "I—I knew—I knew if I got in trouble you'd come, but I did not want that—you have always been on the side of good, righteous causes and you'd insist on being there."

"What did you do?"

He smiled slightly, saying, "We'd wreck boats, steal their nets and lines—stuff like that—small stuff, really. Last year, two other guys and I decided we'd go a little higher and follow the boats carrying—smuggling—the 'catch'—in this case it was fish bladders. So, we made three trips to San Diego. One of us would go onboard, take photographs and upload them to Fish and Wildlife in California. We always included the boat's registration and owner—and that's how I was caught—trespassing."

Sara made a soft laugh. "Fish bladders—only you, Gil—and Nick got you off? Bless him—what if he had not been there?"

"That's one of the reasons we try to be transparent—I'd sit in jail for a while, I guess—OceanPeace doesn't have attorneys or bail money—that's the risk you take." He sighed, adding, "that's why I had Heather as a contact—no one would ever put the two of us together—no one looking for me. I'd send her an email to let her know I wasn't in jail or dead."

He passed his hand over his face. "Several months ago her granddaughter was killed in an accident—she was grief stricken, but she was getting better, I thought, getting out and going to a support group."

Sara interrupted, saying "I don't think she's the bomber."

"Thanks, I appreciate that."

After a prolonged moment of silence, Sara said, "I don't understand—but yet I do. I would have wanted to go with you—I could never understand why—why you disappeared."

"I should not have done this to you, Sara. I knew what I was doing could land me in jail—or worse—and I couldn't bear to think of you trying to rescue me!"

She bristled, "You'd rather have me crying myself to sleep at night, asking what I had done wrong?" She closed her eyes, tears leaking down her cheeks, and pulled herself away from his hold.

"Forgive me, Sara. I've made such a mess of things."

As he watched, she seemed to pull strength from thin air. Squaring her shoulders, wiping tears from her face, she transformed into the person he had loved, observed, and never fully understood for years. Her chin tilted upward; her eyes brightened, not with anger, but determination.

"I'll always love you, Gil—always. You have to decided if you love me—as a human, as a wife, a companion. I can't make you do that." She sighed, drew in another deep breath, and stood up, extending her hand. "We have a bomber to catch—and maybe, just maybe, I have a clue."

A/N: Thank you for reading and reviewing! Even thanks to the "guest" who says we've read the script-you gave us a laugh!