A/N: Sorry this took so long, guys. I really struggled to come up with ideas for this chapter. Originally I was planning to have everything resolved by the end of it, finally able to list the story as complete, but nothing I wrote seemed to fit with what came before, and so I plow on. Next chapter should be the last, though... maybe... probably...

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Taking a half-step forward, Brass smiled and quickly averted his gaze. Lifting his hand to cover Greg's eager eyes, he said simply, his voice warm and welcoming, "Hello, Sara."

Not quite sure what to say, Sara tore her eyes away from the ramshackle group crowding the doorway to study her lover's face. Surprise and exhaustion were both obvious, his mouth hanging slightly open and his eyes dark and heavy, but beyond that was a deep sense of hurt, of disappointment, fear and the slightest hint of humiliation. She saw him close his eyes and hang his head ever-so-slightly, resting his weight more and more on the wall to his left, and everything else around her faded away, the voices of her friends calling to her from the hallway reverting back to nothing more than white noise. This was it. Grissom – intelligent, strong, caring, proud – was standing on the precipice, and the slightest breath of wind could push him over the edge. Slowly, carefully, she closed the distance between them, resting one hand gently on his lower back, rubbing small circles over his tense and tired muscles. As she felt him begin to come back to her, she raised her other hand up to cover his where it lay holding the door open. Twining her fingers with his, she drew his hand away, letting the door fall closed.

After a moment of silence, she stepped even closer and brushed her lips against his shoulder before whispering in a tone infused with all the love and concern she felt, "Hey, stranger."

At the sound of her voice, Grissom felt the last of his defences collapse. He couldn't be strong anymore. He couldn't be anything anymore. He needed sleep and he needed her and anything else was just too much. Slumping against the wall completely, he reached out and pulled her to his chest, crushing her tiny frame against his. Burying his head in the crook of her neck, he closed his eyes and tried to block out the frantic pleas and frenzied knocking sounding from the other side of the door, desperate to lose himself in the smell of her, the feel of her, the sound of her gentle whispers against his cheek.

When his breathing had calmed and his heart rate slowed, he pressed a tender kiss into the skin of her neck before lifting his head to rest his forehead against hers. As the warm caress of his sigh danced across her face, she closed her eyes and whispered, "Come back to bed."

As they turned, hand in hand, and manoeuvred their way back through the darkened room, Sara became dimly aware of the voices still calling out to them both from the hall. In their earlier exhaustion, they had simply collapsed atop the blankets, and as Grissom stood by the side of the bed and began to turn down the sheets, Sara spun on her heels to head back towards the door. After only two steps, she felt his warm hand grasp her wrist, pulling her back until her shoulders came to rest against the slow rise and fall of his chest. Closing her eyes, she felt his lips graze against the curve of her ear as he whispered, "Don't. Please, just... don't."

Turning her head into his touch, she pressed her cheek against his lips and nodded her silent reply before stepping away to move to the other side of the bed, pushing down the sheets and climbing into their cool embrace. She watched as he slowly pulled his shirt over his head and stepped out of his jeans, reaching a hand out to run through his hair as his head once again came to rest on the pillow.

Turning his head to the side, he sought out her gaze. "Oh, Sara..."

As the defeat heavy in his tone echoed through her head, she saw him move his arm to make space for her at his side. Without a second thought, she moved to press the length of her body against his, her left hand tracing circles on his chest as she listened to the steady beat of his heart under her ear.

As the knocking finally stopped, the voices in the hall giving way to silence, she asked quietly, "Do you trust me, Griss?"

With one arm wrapped around her waist, his hand resting on the curve of her hip, he pulled her closer to his side. Turning his head, he pressed a firm and reassuring kiss into her hair before answering, "More than anyone in the world."

"Good."

Expecting more, he loosened his grip on her hip and moved his other hand across to trace a finger down her nose before lifting her chin slightly to force her to meet his questioning gaze.

"Good? That's all I get?"

As she saw the elusive half-smile pull at the corner of his mouth, she was overwhelmed by the relief flooding her veins. Laughing gently, she answered playfully, "What? You were expecting more?"

"Well, yes, actually. If not an explanation for the question itself, then at least a courtesy, 'I trust you, too.'"

Raising herself up on her elbows to match him in posture and tone, she lowered her eyelids slightly before replying, "Really? Hmm... Interesting."

As the smile on his face morphed into a charming grin, she simply could not hold herself back any longer, launching herself forward to claim his lips with her own. Only when oxygen moved from a want to a need did they pull back, collapsing into the sheets in peels of gentle laughter.

Rolling onto his side, Grissom studied her face, her cheeks flushed from laughing, her lips swollen from kissing him, her eyes shining despite the dim light of the room. After a moment of silence, he asked, his voice full of renewed strength, her presence alone soothing every ache and banishing the demons that haunted him in the night, "Can I ask you a question?"

Winking mischievously she replied, "Well, you can ask..."

Reaching a hand out to grab one of hers, he brought it to his lips and lavished gentle kisses on each and every one of her fingertips. As his lips were pressed against the pad of her pinky, she cleared her throat dramatically before saying, "I seem to remember something about a question...?"

Moving her hand from his lips to hold against his chest, he said, "Right. A question."

"Yes."

As he looked at her some of the frivolity in the air lifted, leaving in its place a light blanket of sombre expectation.

"I want to know why you started laughing when Ecklie said that the lab needed us."

For a long moment, Sara said nothing. He watched as her eyes became unfocussed, her mind drifting away from the present and into the past. When he could wait no longer, he relinquished his hold on her hand and brought his fingertips up to graze against her cheek, dragging her back into the moment.

"Where'd you go?"

Smiling slightly, she looked at him as though for the first time.

"I was just thinking."

"About what?"

"About the answer to your question."

He waited patiently in silence, his fingers still tracing a feather-light touch over her skin, knowing that she would speak when she was ready. Eventually, she closed her eyes and turned into his touch, speaking in a tone soft and distant.

"You said that to me once. You told me the lab needed me."

As if that was all the explanation that was necessary, she fell silent and rolled onto her side, pulling on his hand with hers to draw him close to her, her back pressed against his chest, his arm draped around her waist, his hand splayed protectively over her stomach and their legs folded together in perfect harmony. When after a moment it became clear to him that she was not planning on saying any more, he prompted quietly, "Sara, honey, I still don't understand."

Sighing lightly, she pleaded with him, "Just let it go, Griss. It's not important."

He moved to pull away from her slightly, only to be drawn back as she increased the strength of her hold on his hand. She didn't want to let him go.

"Sara–"

Cutting him off before he could say anymore, she started talking, the words falling from her mouth in a torrent, unchecked, uncensored.

"You told me that the lab needed me, and it killed me. You had pushed me so far away that just showing up to work every day felt like a knife in my gut and everything you said to me –everything you didn't say to me – just twisted it over and over. I was in agony, and you couldn't see. You wouldn't see. I had to get away, and you told me that the lab needed me, when all I wanted to hear was that you needed me. I just needed to hear that you needed me..." Sniffling quietly, trying to hide her tears from him, she forced a gently chuckle, though it sounded forced even to her ears. "It was during my unrequited stage, you see."

Without a word he closed the distance he had put between them, moulding his body to hers such that not a breath of air was left to separate them. Her tears may have been silent, but he knew they were falling, her distress betrayed by her fractured breathing. As he felt her calm, he whispered into her hair, "I did need you. I just couldn't let you see. I was terrified that if I said the words I would make them real, and then when you left me... I had been alone my whole life, Sara, and I wasn't used to..." His words echoed through his head, sounding callous, self-serving and hollow. Drawing her closer still, he abandoned all attempts at explanation, at justification, and said simply, "I did need you. I do need you. I will always need you. You... you are my everything."

Silently she brought his hand up to her lips and kissed his knuckles softly, curling her legs further back to twine with his. As they lay content in the all-consuming warmth of their embrace, they let sleep claim them, both having forgotten in the wake of their shared revelations about the five desperate people still stalking the hall outside their room.

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Taking a half-step forward, Brass smiled and quickly averted his gaze. Lifting his hand to cover Greg's eager eyes, he said simply, his voice warm and welcoming, "Hello, Sara."

The detective's bravado faltered a little as he waited in vain for her reply, a sense of foreboding settling in his stomach as he watched her turn her attention away from the group crowding her doorway towards Grissom, who seemed to be fading before their very eyes. Half-listening to the fumbled congratulations and apologies streaming forth from the four criminalists to his right, he dropped his hand from Greg's eyes and braced himself for action, fearing that his old friend may actually collapse at his feet any minute. As Sara took the few cautious steps to stand at the entomologist's side, his attention was snapped back to the young man beside him when he announced, practically salivating over every word, "Whoa! Sara! I always knew you were hot, but... WOW!"

Turning quickly, Brass pushed Greg away from the door, forcing him to stand several feet away, the look on his face fierce enough to ensure there would be no protest. Already composing an apology in his head, he was at first relieved to find that neither Grissom nor Sara had apparently heard the remark. Studying Grissom's face, however, his relief disappeared, to be replaced by apprehension, distress and alarm. His friend appeared to be folding in on himself, his only anchor the brunette at his side, her touch luring him back from the edge.

As the heavy wooden door slowly shut, he reached out to fend off all attempts to prop it open.

"Hey! Just back off."

"Brass! What the hell are you doing!"

As Catherine made a Hail Mary lunge for the door in the seconds before the lock clicked back into place, he moved to physically block her advance, grabbing her arms above the elbow and forcing her back, pinning her against the wall opposite.

"Back off, Catherine!"

Before Catherine could put up a fight against his hold on her, Warrick stepped forward and wrenched the older man away, a look equal parts confusion and outrage plastered across his face.

"What is wrong with you, man?! We come all the way over here, force the desk clerk to give up their room number, only to let them slam the door in our faces, and then you attack Cath!"

His distress morphing into anger, he screamed back, "Are you people blind?"

For a man who was renowned for keeping his cool in the most trying of circumstances, this was the second time in as many hours that he had lost all control, yelling and screaming at his friends – his family – out of anger, hurt, fear and frustration. His outburst forced the other four into silence, each waiting for an explanation.

"Didn't you see that? Didn't you see what just happened?"

Nick, his southern drawl deliberately slowed in an attempt to calm the overwrought New Yorker, replied, "Yeah, they shut the door in our faces."

As he felt the anger slowly begin to fall away, he brought one hand up to rest on his hip, flaring his charcoal suit-coat out to reveal his badge and gun. Bringing the other up to rub across his forehead in an attempt to fend off the headache beginning to press behind his eyes, he continued, "But did you see their faces?"

Still incensed, Catherine snapped back, "What about them?"

Lifting his eyes to meet hers, the detective felt an incredible sense of loss settle in his bones.

"He looked... broken."

Silence fell across the group as they each realised the depth of truth in his words. Nick was the first to recover, his profound guilt spurring him on to act. Stepping quickly forward, he began pounding on the door.

"Griss! Grissom! Come on, boss. Open the door! Sara! Open the door! We just want to talk to you guys!"

Unable to think of anything better to do, Catherine and Greg moved to join him, flanking him on either side, adding their voices to his call.

Staring at their backs, Brass simply shook his head, unable to do any more to stop them. Leaning back to rest his weight against the wall, his shoulders pressed into the same spot he had held Catherine moments earlier, he said a silent goodbye to the pair, the haunted look on Grissom's face burning itself into his eyelids.

Just as he was preparing himself to leave, a strange silence fell across the hall. Focussing his eyes on the criminalists before him, he saw that Warrick had pulled the other three away from the door, silencing their pounding and pleas with the promise of a new plan.

Turning his soulful green eyes to meet the detective's gaze, he asked, his tone infused with hope, "So, Brass, what do you think?"

Shaking off the fog that had fallen about him, he pushed himself off the wall and took a step forward before saying, "Sorry, ah... run it by me again."

Furrowing his brow slightly, Warrick replied, "Okay... Well, basically, instead of standing here screaming and banging on their door all night, we all go back to work. After all, our shift was supposed to start twenty minutes ago, and you have an active case to get back to."

Interrupting, Brass asked, "But how does this get them to stay?"

Greg, barely containing his enthusiasm, rushed to explain. "Well, they clearly don't want to talk to us right now, and whilst Sara was smokin', Grissom did look a little... well, not exactly himself. We were thinking that if we went downstairs and each took a few minutes to write a quick note to them, just explaining how sorry we were for acting like giant asses and how happy we are for them that they are, you know," waving his hand around, Greg took a moment to search for the right word, the young man clearly still struggling with the thought of his sexy young mentor and his scary old boss having a romantic relationship, "together, we could leave them with the front desk and hopefully they will butter them up enough to talk to us face to face in the morning."

Warming to the idea, Brass simply nodded his head, emotionally drained from the events of the day. As he quietly admonished himself for allowing his thoughts to drift to the warm embrace of the hotel bar, he turned to follow the others as they moved towards the elevators.

As the metal doors opened before them, the mirrored back wall reflecting their anxious faces back to them, Nick asked quietly, his voice betraying the fear eating away at each and every one of them, "What if this doesn't work?"

Not allowing any room for doubt, Catherine stepped forward to meet her reflection head on, replying with strength and certainty, "It has to, Nick. It has to."

TBC...