------


"She's going to figure it out sooner or later."

Warrick's voice brought Grissom out of his own reverie and he turned to see the younger man
standing before him. "Figure out what?" He countered as vaguely as possible.

"What's going on here." Sitting down, Warrick leaned forward to stare into his friend's face.
"She's already starting to suspect something's not right." He held up a hand to forestall any
comments. "Let me rephrase. She's starting to figure out that something *is* right and frankly
man, I think you should tell her up front." He smiled. "You know Sara, if she figures it out on
her own, there'll be hell to pay."

Grissom smiled wryly. "Don't I know it." Leaning back, he rested his head against the white of
the wall and stared at the ceiling. "I just can't seem to make the words cross my lips." Belatedly,
he added. "While she's conscious at least."

"So go in there, tell her to close her eyes, and pretend she isn't."

"Funny."

"Who's kidding?" Warrick returned smoothly. He waited until Grissom's gaze met his before he
continued. "Whatever you gotta do to tell her man, you've gotta do it. This can't go on." He
exhaled heavily, surveying his hands for a moment before looking at his friend. "Think back...to
the minute you saw Catherine standing in that doorway...the instant you heard what'd happened...
Think back to that moment and remember how it felt. Remember how it felt to wonder if you were
ever going to get the chance to tell her the truth. She survived this, Gris, she's in there
waiting to hear what you've got to say. There's no guarantee that the next time, if there's a next
time, that she'll be ok. Or, if the situation's reversed, that you'll be ok and get the chance to
tell her. There're no guarantees in this life, you take what you get. You got a second chance,
yeah, but don't count on a third. The world doesn't work like that."

After some moments, moments heavy with silence, he pushed to his feet, patted the other man on
the shoulder and walked away. There was nothing left that could be said. No more advice to be
offered. This was Grissom's moment of decision and the only voice he had left to listen to was
his own.

-------

She was asleep when he opened the door. It was so easy to envision how she'd looked when he'd
first walked into the room, clinging to life, wan features, bruises sharp in contrast against
her pale skin. The spectre of that first sight hung over him and for just a second he could
imagine that her return to consciousness was an elaborate daydream that he'd cooked up while
on a coffee run. A fanciful wish that had yet to be realized.

He took a step closer to the bed and she stirred slightly, banishing the haunting thought.
Keeping his movements as quiet as possible, Grissom sank into the chair next to her and reached
out to take her hand in his.

"Grissom?" Her voice, huskier than usual with sleep, reached out to caress his ears and he looked
at her, a smile faint on his face.

"Yes?"

"What is it?"

"A moment of clarity." He answered softly. Her brow furrowed and she began to open her mouth,
intending on questioning his words, when he stopped her with a gesture. "Moments of clarity are
very rare, Sara, and just as fleeting is the courage to speak that comes with them."

Sara recognized the plea for what it was and settled back, content to just listen for once.

"When Catherine came to my home...told me what had happened...to you." He forced out the words,
that awful moment replaying itself in his mind as it had when Warrick had asked him about it. "My
world came crashing to a halt." He swallowed quickly, an action that gave him momentary shelter.
"I understood then something I hadn't before...Exactly what it was you meant....to me. Not as
just..." he hesitated, a brief smile touching his lips. "Not just as one of the best investigators,
one of the most brilliant scientists, I've ever seen but...as Sara." His voice was rough with
tears. "I thought I'd lost the most important person in my world and..." He swallowed again as if
he could force back the emotion with that determined gesture. "I think it almost killed me."

"Gris..." This time, she made the plea, and he smiled, bringing her hand to his lips. "What...what
exactly are you trying to tell me?"

An almost boyish grin lit his features. "I'm doing that bad a job, hmm?"

Sara couldn't resist returning the grin, he was absolutely unrefusable like this. "Well, it all
depends on what job you're doing." She teased softly.

"I'm delivering a report." He told her, his grin gentling. "On a experiment conducted in the
hallway."

"What kind of experiment?" She prompted, her lips settling into something akin to a loving smile.

"An analysis of my emotional state over this entire...incident. I've made some shocking
discoveries." A rueful light entered his eyes. "Shocking, apparently, to only me. It seems, to
everyone else, the results were readily available."

"A scientist makes the worst subject."

"I thought that was doctors make the worst patients?" He lifted a brow.

Sara waved a dismissive hand. "Same concept, different arena. Now...about those findings?"

"Ah, yes, those." Grissom nodded once. "Well, it seems, Sara that I am entirely and undeniably
in love." Her breath caught and she stared at him, as if unable to believe what he was saying.
So, just for clarity and mischief's sake, he added. "With you." He stood, perching himself on
the edge of the bed, looking down at her. "And, I feel compelled to reveal that when you were
unconscious..." Caught up in a spirit of playfulness that surprised him, he added. "Well, I'm
afraid, I have to say I kissed you."

Her mouth rather inelegantly dropped open and somewhere, a part of her mind that she deemed
responsible for certain smartmouthed comments she was prone to make noted that it would be
typical that Grissom would make this kind of declaration while she was lying in a hospital
bed in an old pair of pjs Catherine had brought in for her with her hair in dire need of a
good washing. "You...and I *missed* it?!" She shook her head. "That...well that sucks!"

Her exclamation brought a chuckle from him. "It would probably be a very good idea," he
continued on as if she hadn't spoken. "If I were to make restitutions."

"Restitutions?" Sara stared at him, dumbfounded, and decided that Gil Grissom was having
*way* too much fun at her expense. "What kind of restitutions?"

"Well..." He leaned over, tucking a hair away from her cheek with one finger. "I probably
should kiss you again...while you're conscious before we talk about restitutions. That way
you can decide just how great an injustice was done and just exactly what I'll need to do
to make amends."

Her lips curved into a welcoming smile and her eyes danced back and forth between his lips
and the very impish look that was directed at her from his own mirthful gaze. "Mmhmm...well...
I think that probably would be the best idea. I mean, I can't really be offended by something
if I don't remember how bad it was."

"Bad?" He began to protest but Sara surprised him, sliding a hand up to grab his collar and
pull him down. Surprisingly strong considering her recent accident, she pulled him off balance
and he only just managed to save himself from crushing her. He didn't have a chance to comment
on the action as his subconscious again hijacked his body and willingly submitted him to Sara's
control. A heartbeat later he decided his subconscious had the right idea. He also decided that
kissing a conscious Sara far exceeded kissing an unconscious Sara.

The scientist in him quickly took note of the feel of her lips moving against his, the taste of
her, the sound she made when the kiss deepened. The man in him took note of the same things but
gloried in them instead of cataloguing them.

It took everything in him to draw away from her extremly tempting mouth and, when he did, he was
somewhat surprised to discover that his glasses weren't fogged. With the heat that he was
convinced had been generated by their kiss, he'd half expected to need miniature wipers installed.
"So...restitutions?" He managed to ask hoarsely while trying remember exactly how breathing
worked.

Sara licked her lower lip lightly an action that seemed to send his brain's higher functions
into complete hibernation and allowing other, more baser instincts to demand his attention.
"Hmm....I think I deserve at least several dinners."

"Dinners..."

"Yeah..." She smirked. "Very intimate ones. Home-cooked I think."

"That can be arranged..." He agreed after a moment.

Her fingertips migrated up the material of his shirt, occasionally straying inside and brushing
the skin of his chest. "I think a tour of your place should go in there too...oh, and one more
thing."

"Which is?" He questioned.

"You make me breakfast...every morning."

"Deal." Grissom agreed wholeheartedly, bending down to kiss her again. "This could be a problem."
He murmured against her mouth.

"What could be?" She prompted, a hand tangling in his curls, holding him to her.

"This strange attachment I've developed for kissing you."

Sara grinned, the action tickling against his lips. "Strange? Exactly what's strange about it?"

He skimmed his lips across hers, savoring the contact. "That I never developed it earlier..."

"Mmmhmm..." She nodded. "That is something we have to look into. A long-term research project...
don't you think?"

Grissom pulled back slightly to look down into her face. "I think you're right. It will take
several experiments at least."

"I concur." Sara affirmed with her best scholarly voice. "We'll start as soon as I get out of
here." She pushed herself up on the pillow and looked at him. "Speaking of, when can I get out
of here?"

"When the doctor says you can." He answered patiently. "And not a minute before."

"But..." She frowned only to have Grissom cut her off with a kiss. He really was getting addicted
to them.

"Sara?"

"Mmhmm..."

"For once? Don't argue with me."

"Well..." She sighed. "Just this once. But don't expect it to become habit."

"Wouldn't dream of it." He countered softly, kissing her again.

"No?" Sara's eyes danced with mirth as he lifted his head again.

"No." He smiled. "I have better dreams than that."

"You do?" Curiosity warred with her amusement and she resisted the urge to ask until she couldn't
help herself. "And what do you dream about?"

In the blunt, honest delivery he often used, he quietly replied, "You." And then, with Sara as
it's axis, Grissom's world began to turn.

Finis