CHAPTER 2

"What happened to you?"

It was a question that had materialized in her head too many times to count. In the three years she had known him as his coworker and employee, he had changed, as though from day to night. Whereas before he smiled and laughed, now he was quiet and reticent. His eyes sagged, his mouth pursed, his walk a slow, hunching scuffle. The light that had formerly lit his eyes and animated his actions, now seemed like a dull shadow of its former glory. He no longer jumped at an opportunity to solve a mystery, but trudged to the crime scene with little enthusiasm. His actions were automatic now, his subconscious having taken over as his mind wandered to far off places.

She would find him at his desk, eyes blankly staring forward, piles of papers on his desk, awaiting his attention. She knew of his dislike of paperwork, preferring the actual work of study and deciphering. But she had never seen him so lost, so disinterested in even the menial aspects of his job.

A ghost, he had once said, of his time in high school. Passing in the hallways, unseen, unheard, yet seeing and hearing everything. It was his observant nature to stand back and observe unobtrusively.

When she had met him, he was no ghost, but a flesh and bone man of science, extolling his love and fascination with the world of insects, and investigation. His eyes had shone bright blue, even from across the room, his hands forever in the air, emphasizing his latest point. His presentation was an entire body performance. His enthusiasm for his work radiated from every pore of his being, attracting Sara like a moth to light. She was powerless to stop herself. She had become his student, learning from him whenever she got the chance, though the classroom was not a regular classroom, their talks happening late into the night in some diner, or the library, or on a walk. She picked his brain relentlessly, gathering as much information as she could. And he the willing teacher, having found in her a student with a zest that matched his own. It was a match made in heaven, so to speak.

In time, she realized, her interest in him had extended beyond the intellectual, to encompass the physical and emotional. When he spoke, she would watch how his eyes would sparkle and his hands dance in the air as they made imaginary pictures of his words. His hands were strong and sturdy, dark and callused from time spent outside collecting his bugs. She loved to watch him write, to see how he formed his letters.

The walks with him were probably the most magical of all, when he would stop suddenly and bend over, giving her an original opportunity to view his theories and knowledge up close, personal and in real life. She would sit by him and listen to him speak, the cadence of his voice as it lowered subconsciously as he spoke of the little creatures scurrying about on the ground. His hands would wave in front of him, tracing invisible paths that the bugs would inevitably follow.

When at last he would stand up and look at her, she would become lost in the dazzling blue of his eyes as they sparkled in true entomological interest, his lips twisting up into a glorious smile. He was a like a child with a treasured toy, totally in his glory.

Something had stolen the life from him. Somewhere along the way, it had begun to dim imperceptibly until it was at it is now, almost gone. He was but a figment of his former glorious self. Somewhere along the line, life and the act of living had taken on tones of monotony and drudgery. Maybe the others couldn't see it, but she could. How could she talk to the others without revealing herself to them when it came to Grissom? They would see right through her, and she was not ready for that.

Perhaps it was when he had found the baby dead in the garden. It wasn't everybody who had found him, it was Grissom. He had held the baby so gently in his arms, staring at it, uncomprehendingly. He had walked with it to the cars, never letting anyone else touch it. This had been a human being, who had never hurt another in his short life and yet he had been murdered. The case, from then on, had become personal for him. He had let it get to him, become his drive. Maybe it was after that case that the life force had ebbed from him in slow methodical waves of desolation. Maybe…

"What happened to you?"

Grissom's head snapped up and his eyes trained on hers.

She felt her eyes on him and realized she had spoken the words aloud. She turned to look at him, almost fearful of his response. His eyes were wide and confused.

"What did you say?"

"Uh… I was just thinking… out loud I guess…" she dropped her eyes from his.

"You asked me what happened to me."

She sighed. "I was only thinking, Gil. I'm sorry. I don't want to pry."

He looked away from her then. There was a lead weight in her stomach, and a heaviness in her soul. Grissom's privacy was of utmost importance to him, she understood this. Her musings of him had been personal for her. And now he knew. Knew her thoughts, or the gist of them. The tension in the air was choking her. She decided that her glass needed refilling. Now.

In the kitchen, her hands were on the counter, her head hung low. She cursed herself for her stupidity in uttering those words aloud. She wanted Grissom to trust her. And now he wouldn't. She bit her bottom lip, hard enough to cause pain. She didn't hear the sounds of his feet over her solitary attack. Suddenly his hand was on her shoulder and she jumped and yelped. Her hand knocked over her glass causing water to slop onto the floor.

"Damn!" she uttered and reached for a tea towel in the drawer and bent down to sop up the water. He bent down beside her and placed a hand on hers, steadying her. She stopped dead, afraid to look at him.

"Sara.. it's okay. I understand." He took the cloth from her hand and continued to wipe up the mess, wringing the cloth out in the sink and hanging it to dry on one of her cupboard doors. It wasn't what she would have done, but she didn't want to ruin the moment.

She stood in the kitchen, her body facing his, her eyes looking elsewhere. His hand came under her chin and brought her face up to his. He peered into her eyes, before a small smile graced his face. "It's okay, Sara. I'm not upset." He eyes gazed at her face, trying to make her understand his truthfulness.

"It's just that… I don't want to push you, Gil. What happened in the parking lot, well… it wasn't really my intention to attack you like that." Her face flushed slightly at the memory and she looked away again.

His eyes were still on her face, but he was quiet. She could practically hear his mind working. She needed to sit down; she maneuvered her way around him and back to the couch, where she curled herself up in the corner.

He spoke to her from the kitchen doorway. "I know what you were talking about in my office Sara." His quiet voice drifted over to her ears.

She felt it wash over her like a warm blanket, cradling her in its warmth. She sighed, her eyes closing involuntarily.

"I've made some pretty stupid mistake in my life, god only knows." he continued. "The one that I regret the most was leaving Frisco. Leaving you. I know we had something, Sara. And it was more than a teacher/student thing." He came over and sat down beside her. Not too close and yet not too far. Enough that he could touch her if he so chose. "You were my most eager student. And I have to admit at first, I was rather exhilarated with the idea of such a zealot for a student. I know what I left with, when I came here. I know what it is you gave me. And I took it selfishly and gave you nothing in return. I'm sorry Sara."

She sat and watched him, listening to his words, and feeling them sink into her soul, healing it. The edges stopped screaming. Scars formed, forever etched into her soul, a reminder of how much she had given him.

"You're not the same person, Gil."

"People change Sara."

"Not like this. You used to enjoy your work. I used to see fire in your eyes. Now I see nothing." She looked up at him, now. Her eyes demanding the answers to the question she refused to ask.

He sighed and looked away.

"That's what my question meant. What happened to kill that fire, Gil? What happened to take you away from me?"

He got up and walked over to the window, his shoulders tense, his back slumped, arms crossed in front of his chest. No more standing tall and proud. He seemed to have a weight on his shoulders that he couldn't shake off. It was burying him. She wanted to go to him, to put her hands on his back, to ease away the tension. To bring him back. To her. But she stayed where she was, watching and waiting.

"Life." came the small answer.

"What?"

He sighed and his head lowered. He said nothing for a moment and then turned to her. "Life, Sara. I'm old. I'm almost fifty. That's old. I'm not the same man you knew before. I don't think I'll ever be. I can't go back and undo what I did. It doesn't work that way. I can't go back to Frisco and be with you."

His eyes had taken on a haunted, faraway look. They spoke of great regrets. Of resignation. She hated that last one. He was giving up.

She stood up, facing him square on. "You're not old, Gil. Not to me. I can still see that child in you. It's in there, somewhere, hiding. Waiting to be invited back out again. I can see it when you're with your bugs. Don't deny who you are. You will always be that child who loves to play with bugs."

"They're just bugs, Sara. They can't love me back."

Her heart nearly stopped at that last remark. Love. If only he knew, she thought.

"Gil… You are loved. By everyone at work. They look up to you. –"

"It's not the same thing, Sara."

" - I love you, Gil."

His eyes stopped blinking. His chest stopped moving as his breath became caught in his throat. His arms fell to his sides. He stood there, gaping at her.

"I love you, Gil." she repeated. "I always have." She moved around the coffee table to stand, unimpeded, before him.

He looked at her, with longing in his eyes. His soul reached out to her, grasping. "I don't want you to leave, Sara. I couldn't be here without you. I'm trying, I just don't know how to do it." His voice had dropped to barely a whisper, as he fought to get the words out.

She went to him, then. Standing before him, she felt his fear like tendrils reaching out to her, seeking solace. She took his hands, feeling them shake in hers. She took his eyes with hers, seeing the fear in them. "Relationships are usually made up of two people, Gil. You won't be alone."

She saw him swallow stiffly. No matter how difficult the journey, she could see him struggling forward until he made it. She only hoped he could see that too.