Disclaimer: These characters aren't mine, just took 'em out for a spin.

Summary: GSR, jumps off from the end of LTSB. This is the way we wish it ended.

Rating: PG-13, barely.

Spoilers: SLL, SDD, LTSB

Heartfelt thanks: To Gibby and Ryoko for helping me make it better.

Come Away With Me

Sara Sidle leaned into the doorway with a wry smile on her face. ""I'm, uh, I'm sorry I missed your page. It's just, um, you tell me to get a life, and I get one, and then you expect me to be there at a moment's notice. It's, um, confusing..."

She was feeling brave after Grissom's rare compliment on the Mandy Kirk case and decided to try for some clarity on his mood toward her. Since the Haviland case, when Grissom's mentor used an unfortunate choice of words describing her friendship with Hank, Gris had been more distant than usual, save a brief interlude before her face-off with Marjorie Wescott.

Their dynamic had changed, leaving Grissom cold and angry, and Sara wounded. She wanted answers. She wanted a lot of things, actually, but for now she was hoping Grissom would just shed a little light on his mindset. At least she hoped for an answer – not a riddle, haiku or parable - but she reminded herself she was dealing with Gil Grissom, after all.

Grissom took in Sara's statement and removed his glasses. He sighed heavily, running his hands over his face, hoping to buy some time before he had to respond. It also afforded him the opportunity to avoid her eyes. He knew one look would give away his true feelings, the ones he couldn't articulate well – or at all – in words. He had plenty of things he wanted to say to Sara, explanations he wanted to provide, but words failed him. He was not a man of emotions, which meant words didn't come easy in instances such as these, and Sara's relative candor had left him speechless. He finally collected his thoughts and looked up to find she was gone.

Grissom stared at the empty doorway, baffled by another human interaction, until Catherine Willows filled it half-minute after Sara's "disappearance."

"Gris? GRIS?" Catherine called, snapping her fingers in the air. "You there?"

"Hey," Grissom said distractedly, still trying to sort out the last 5 minutes in his head.

"I ran the paint chips and the victim's clothes from the hit-and-run down to trace. Results should be back tonight."

"Good. Um, what case was that again?" Even for Grissom, this was exceptional distraction. Still busy analyzing Sara's comment, his mind was on overdrive, positing different answers he could have given and trying to determine Sara's probable response.

"Hit-and-run. Spring Mountain Road. About 6 hours ago? Ring a bell?" Catherine said, her tone half-worry and half-annoyance.

"Right, well let me know what you find."

"Will do. I'm heading out. Wanna grab some breakfast?"

"Wish I could," he said, grabbing a stack of papers about three inches thick, then producing a smirk. "Paperwork."

Catherine shifted her weight off the doorframe and put on her sunglasses.

"Lucky you – that's why you get the big bucks."

Catherine turned on her heel and was headed toward the parking lot when she passed the women's bathroom. Might as well make a pit stop, she thought to herself. She was always getting on Lindsay's case for not going before a car ride, so Catherine thought she'd take her own advice for once. Upon entering the institutional-green bathroom, Catherine heard the ragged breaths and hitches of a woman crying. Not one to seek out awkward emotional moments with coworkers, she took the first available stall and got down to business.

The other stall door squeaked loudly as it opened. The investigator in Catherine got the better of her and she peered through the vertical gap between her door and the stall to find out who was having the bad day. Sara? she thought incredulously as she watched the young woman cup her hands to splash water on her face. Catherine had just seen her colleague in the breakroom, where Sara smiled while Nicky and Warrick made bad jokes related to the Kirk case: "I could go for a bite right about now. Sara, come over here."

What is this about? Catherine wondered as Sara left the bathroom. She just solved a case – solo – and she was headed home. "I just have to drop by Grissom's, then I am O-F-F for two days," she boasted to the others. Ah. Catherine's eyebrows automatically arched. Grissom. When will this dance end?

Her bathroom investigations complete, Catherine headed back toward Grissom's office.

"Hey!" she called sharply as she stood in the doorframe.

Grissom had his feet up on his desk and was looking at some indiscriminate point in the room.

"I thought you had paperwork."

Grissom's head snapped up, his thoughts interrupted by his co-worker's voice. 

Leaning into the office, Catherine lowered her voice a bit, but didn't take the edge off: "Make this right with Sara. You can probably still catch her in the parking lot." Grissom's blue eyes narrowed in confusion as he tried to process what she just said.

"I mean it. Don't screw this up. You know better." And with that stern warning Catherine slipped on her shades and headed out of the building. It was all she could do not to smile during her tough-love declarations to her boss. Two socially awkward people in love, she thought. God help them - and us.

Grissom didn't move during his "conversation" with Catherine and he wasn't moving now that she'd left. He felt like he had been punched in the heart by Sara's words and kicked in the groin by Catherine's.

Grissom pulled his legs off his desk and placed his feet on the floor. He dropped his elbows to his knees and ran his fingers through his curly hair, eventually cradling his head in his hands. How did she..? When did she…? What do I do know?

Before he knew it, Grissom was heading out of his office and toward the parking lot. His heart caught in his throat as he realized she might already have left. His pace quickened, but he started breathing more smoothly has he stepped into the early morning dessert heat and saw her driving toward the exit – and him.

"Sara!" he called. "SARA!" he shouted, waving an arm for good measure. His voice sounded so foreign to his ears.

Sara slowed her car to a stop parallel to her boss. Her driver's side window smoothly lowered, but she looked straight ahead, her sunglasses masking those expressive eyes.

"What?" she asked pointedly.

"I, uh…I­‑"

Sara sighed loudly. I don't have time for this. I don't have the energy. I can't do this anymore.

"Well, um, I was wondering if, you, um, would like to have dinner… with me…tonight."

Now it was Sara's turn to be shocked. Did he just? She literally could not believe what she just heard.

She slowly turned her face toward Grissom. "What did you just say?"

"I'm asking you to dinner. Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?" This time Grissom's voice was even and tender, not hesitant and tentative, and he mentally congratulated himself for not sounding like a 14-year-old asking out his first date.

Now it was Sara's turn to fluster. "I – I'd like that."

"Good. I'll pick you up at 7"

"OK, then. Well, see you, um… then." Smooth, Sara. She mentally smacked herself for the poor sentence construction.

Grissom smirked, happy he wasn't the only one having a tough time putting words together. "Good."

Sara put her car in drive and got about 10 feet before she hit the breaks and backed up, returning to the spot where this truly amazing interaction occurred. Grissom heard the commotion and walked back.

"Yes?" he asked, almost playfully.

"Where are we going? What do I wear?"

"It's a surprise, and, something appropriate for a nice dinner."

That's not a lot to go on, she thought, but she knew that pushing would probably not reveal much more.

"OK. See you at 7"

"Right. 7."