Spoiler Alert: CSI episode "Nesting Dolls" and CSI: Miami episode "Collision."

Chapter 12: The Kiss

The full moon was just climbing over the rooftops, and the sky was still light enough to provide ample light. Sara sat on a bench in the the Suma Hotel's garden. She had an open book in her hands, but wasn't really reading it.

She missed Gil, and Vegas, but she didn't miss them as excruciatingly as she had before she got involved in this case. For the first time since she left Las Vegas, she could actually think about her life.

She almost felt like she could get used to this again. Miami was a beautiful city. Las Vegas, San Francisco, and every place she'd been in between, she'd had a feeling of dissatisfaction, and she hadn't been able to stay in any one place for longer than a week. But here was different. She didn't want to leave. At least not now.

Some people went backpacking across Europe to find themselves. She'd never had that opportunity. Perhaps she had always been lost. The only times when she felt like she really belonged had been in Gil's arms, but in the end even that hadn't been enough.

She let her head fall back and sighed deeply. She tried to let her mind go blank, and simply listened to the sounds of a city at twilight, the warm ocean wind in the branches of the trees, the traffic on the streets, the distant voices of people laughing and talking in Spanish. She inhaled the fragrances of the ocean, the humidity, the vegetation, the jasmine blossoms growing nearby.

In the fonds of the palm tree overhead, a large and rather beautiful golden orb weaver spider was spinning its web. It brought a brief smile to her face; Gil would be proud that she could identify it.

Then she frowned. For several minutes today, when she was with Horatio, she hadn't even thought of Gil. She'd promised to miss him with every breath, and she hadn't.

She still had no idea if she could ever go back, or if she would ever see Gil again. She hadn't given him any reason to believe she would. And she had no reason to believe he'd wait for her. She almost hoped he wouldn't: he deserved to be happy, even if it was with someone else. She had, however, been quite sure she would never be happy with anyone else. But for the first time, she was starting to wonder about that.

Her eyes returned to her book, and in an effort to concentrate, she read a poem out loud. "'Lonely the voice of the crane among the clouds. Gone the comrade that once flew at its side.' Murasaki Shikibu."

"Didn't your parents ever tell you not to read in the dark?"

She was startled by the voice so near. "That's just a myth. Besides, the moon is bright enough."

"Ah, yes. The moon over Miami."

She closed her book and looked up at him. "What are you doing here, Horatio?"

He sat beside her on the bench. "I wanted to check on you. Alexx told me you stopped by the hospital to see the victim."

"Yeah. I..." She brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. "I just wanted to check on her. Just in case she woke up."

"I understand. How are you doing?"

"What do you mean?" she asked uncertainly.

He looked down at his hands. "Miss Sidle..."

"Call me Sara."

"Sara," he began, "I know why you're becoming so involved in this case."

She instantly became guarded. "Really? Why?"

He looked back at her. Her fair face seemed to glow in the moonlight. She was bright, mysterious, fascinating, beautiful, resilient, complex. He had to be careful, not just that he didn't say the wrong thing, but that he didn't let himself become too emotionally involved. "The Miniature Killer," he said.

"I should have known that would follow me here."

"You seem to be making this case personal." He was observing, not criticizing.

"Every case is personal to me. That's why I burned out." Just like Grissom worried I would, she recalled.

"Would you like to talk about it?"

"What's to talk about?"

"What brought you to Miami?"

"I came for the sunshine," she answered flippantly.

"Did you? Do you want to know what I think, Miss Sidle? You came to Miami for the sunshine, but you bring a book about death to the beach; you keep your gun with you; at the first sign of trouble, you run toward it; you risk your life to save a stranger. I saw you with the victim. I saw your passion when you tracked down her identity. To me, that doesn't look like burn-out. So let's start again: Why did you leave Las Vegas?"

She shifted toward him, but kept her eyes down. "Why do I want so much to trust you?"

"Because you need to trust someone. And I care about you."

She laughed incredulously. "And you admit it. That's weird." She sighed and looked up at the moon. "I was so sick of it. Sick of death, sick of blood, sick of seeing every day the worst that people are capable of, sick of it never ending. I had to leave. I just couldn't take it anymore. It stayed with me all the time. I'm not sure how much sense that makes."

"I understand completely. So, Sara, why did you end up in Miami?"

"I wanted to escape myself. To...party, drink, get a tan on the beach. Maybe go for a cruise. Anything to stop thinking about it. I guess I hoped the sunshine would somehow burn the sickness out of me."

"You could have done that in any city in the Sunbelt. I'm wondering if it was a coincidence that you came to Miami, where a few years ago some of your colleagues worked a case with our lab."

It look her a long moment to reply. "You think...I subconsciously came here looking for you?"

"I'm wondering what it is you're really searching for."

"I don't know," she said quietly. "I don't even know what I want anymore." They sat in thoughtful silence for over a minute, then she asked "Do you ever think about quitting? About just walking away?"

"Of course I do. Every criminalist does. I knew a woman a few years ago, a great CSI named Megan. She left the work because it reminded her too much of her late husband, an officer killed in the line of duty. The city lost a valuable asset when she walked away, but it was her choice to make, and I learned to accept that. There comes a point when a CSI simply can't, or shouldn't, keep working."

"Do you think," Sara said hesitantly, "it's possible for someone who's walked away from being a CSI to ever go back?"

"Perhaps, for some of them, all they really need is a vacation."

"I remember a time when I loved my job, but I don't remember why."

"You know, in my experience, people become CSIs for one of two reasons. For some, it's the thrill of finding clues, of solving the puzzle. Others have something in them, something in their past, that compels them to seek justice, to protect the innocent, and to punish the guilty. I think, Miss Sidle, I think that you're like me."

"Who was it for you?" she whispered.

"My mother."

"Did they ever find her killer?"

"Yes." He added after a long hesitation, "She was murdered by my father."

Her head turned toward him. Their eyes met. Hers were filled with surprise, and a kind of faint desperation. "My father," she stated. "My mother."

He could only look at her silently. Here was someone who understood him completely, finally, and he didn't know what to say. All he knew was that he suddenly felt less alone than he had in a long time.

"In college," Sara said, suddenly severing the silence, "I was trying to decide what career path to take. I told myself it would be a bad idea to go into law enforcement. I needed to distance myself from my past, to find something that would help me move on. But I couldn't. Justice was my calling, and science was my passion."

"And now?" he asked.

She shook her head slightly. "I honestly don't know. That's all I know how to be: Sara Sidle, CSI. I don't know who I am outside of that."

"Really? It seems to me...that if that's who you are, it's something worth fighting for. But if Sara Sidle is who you are, and CSI is just what you do, then you need to find something else, something you can devote your passion to."

"I guess I just haven't found what that is yet. If it exists. Is it like that for you?"

"Yes it is. My work is my life."

"That can get pretty lonely."

"It can also be very rewarding."

"Doesn't leave much time for dating." Sara joked with a tight smile on her lips and a flicker of pain in her eyes.

Horatio smiled back. "That is true."

"And it's hard to get close to someone knowing how easy it is to lose them."

He looked away.

She noticed. "You ever felt like that?"

"I was married...very briefly."

"What happened?"

"She was murdered by a drug lord, to get to me."

"I'm so sorry." There was a long pause. "I never would have guessed you had that kind of loss in your past. You seem so...composed."

"So do you," he pointed out. "We learn...to keep going."

She blinked rapidly to keep the tears she felt prickling in her eyes from forming. "We try." She smiled and looked back at him.

The breeze picked up, rustling in the leaves of the palm tree.

Horatio didn't know why he did what he did then. He'd come to the garden with no intention but to talk to her. But her softly glowing beauty in the moonlight and the intimacy of their camaraderie drew him to her.

Sara didn't know why she tilted her head up to meet Horatio's lips as he leaned toward her. She told herself, even as their lips touched, that she shouldn't be doing this. She'd promised Grissom in her letter that he was her one and only. She'd stated that.

But then, she'd been wrong before.

Horatio was different. He was suave, warm, and exciting. It had taken Grissom years to give her a chance, and here was this man who'd known her for less than a week, and had already made a connection with her.

She had more in common with him than anyone she'd ever met.

He rested his lips on hers, and they didn't move. Then she lifted her hand to his cheek. He deepened the kiss. Sara forgot about her compunctions and wrapped her arms around his back. Her lips parted, and molded to fit his.

Horatio broke the kiss and slowly drew back, gazing at her.

As she realized what she had just done, she couldn't believe it. She got up and turned away.

He frowned and stood to join her, but he didn't touch her. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm sorry. It's not you. It's just...not...you," she finished quietly.

He saw her guilt and confusion, and the sudden weariness of her face as she fought against tears. He nodded with understanding. "He's a very lucky man," he said softly.

"I think he would disagree. His fiancée left him, and didn't even have the guts to say goodbye in person."

"I'm sure he understands."

"Would you? I loved him more than anything else in the world, and I couldn't even stay in Vegas for him."

"Because it wasn't about him." Horatio moved next to her so he could see her face. She didn't meet his eyes. "It's about you. You have to know who you are before you can share your life with someone else."

Sara looked at him. In his eyes, instead of the anger and disappointment she'd been expecting, was sympathy. He kept her gaze for a long moment, then smiled gently.

"I'll see you tomorrow at the lab," he said, and began to walk away. "Goodnight, Sara."

She watched him walk away. She almost told him to wait. She wanted him to stay, wanted it with half her heart.