Hi everyone. I apologize for the long delay. I started work again and I barely have time to sleep. I know how much I hate it when a story I like is abandoned so I vowed to finish this piece. Thanks again for all of your reviews. They mean a lot. I know I've been remiss in reviewing the work of my favorite authors; not that I've been reading all that much. Suffice to say I'll have many wonderful pieces of fiction to enjoy when I get some time off.

Anyway, I hope you're interested in reading the last chapter of Scars. I think I did it justice. Thanks again for your patience.

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Sara had loved watching the momentary shock on Grissom's face turn into the lop-sided, boyish grin she loved so much. Finally, when a heartfelt laugh erupted from his throat, she leaned against the fridge and watched the sight. He'd been putting on a brave front the past day and a half, but she knew he was concerned for her. For her. The thought floated around in her brain; someone loved her and hurt because she hurt. It was an epiphany of sorts. The thing she'd been most afraid of was now giving her comfort. Sara had always backed away from commitment and accountability in relationships, feeling vulnerable and smothered. For the first time in her life, she was allowing a man to show love for her and she wasn't running for the nearest door.

Grissom emerged from the bathroom in boxers and a faded black tee. His hair was damp and unruly as he lowered the towel from his head. Upon seeing Sara standing a mere few feet away, he froze.

She couldn't resist a low whistle. "I was wondering when I'd see you in your shorts, Griss."

"I uh, I forgot to bring my jeans into the bathroom with me," he stammered as his face became warm.

Sara saw the blush rising on his cheeks. "Yeah, sure."

"I did, I swear."

Sara noted the earnestness in his tone, but chose to play, trusting Grissom to humor her. "I think you just wanted me to see how sexy you are in boxers. Um, green and black plaid to boot."

Hanging his head in mock shame, Grissom nodded. "Yes, Sara, you've uncovered my devious little plot. I am a pathetic shell of a man for using such trickery on a woman of your intellect and investigatory prowess."

"Oh, go put your pants on," she laughed, then ducked as he chucked the towel at her head.

The microwave beeped and Sara removed the piping hot dish of spaghetti. It had been a minor triumph for her when she'd finally talked Grissom into grabbing a change of clothes from his truck and showering. She smiled at the thought of him sharing her bathroom space. They'd definitely smashed some personal barriers during the past couple of days. She decided to enjoy this new level. Sara and Griss. Griss and Sara. Shaking her head, she set two plates and utensils on the countertop.

Grissom emerged from her bedroom, faded Levi's now in place, hair a bit more tidy.

"You clean up quite nicely," she smiled.

"I'm in old jeans and a tee-shirt, Sara. How can you say I 'clean up…nicely?"

"Easy," she smiled, "I love to see you relaxed. And, to me, there's nothing more relaxing than shedding work clothes."

"I agree," he added before stepping forward and drawing her into his arms for a hug that evolved into a kiss.

Grissom pulled his lips away reluctantly, but continued to hold her face in a soft embrace. His eyes held hers. "How are you holding up? It's been a difficult couple of days, to say the least."

She considered carefully before answering. "I think I can be okay. Eventually."

A frown creased his brow as he realized what she meant. He couldn't take away her pain. He could help her recognize and deal with it, but he couldn't take it away.

"What's wrong, Griss?"

"I just…I guess I thought I could make the past not, I don't know, bother you…no, that's not right," he sighed in frustration. "What I'm trying to say is that I thought I could make the hurt seem less. Or even make it go away. I know that sounds childish. But…I can't do that and it…it bothers me."

"Grissom, listen to me." She grasped his forearms. "It's not your job to make everything all better. It's not possible."

"Yeah, but apparently it's still a blow to my male ego."

"Okay, I'll give you that," she paused, deep in thought. "But, you have to acknowledge that you've been here for me, despite all the Grissomish pushing away attitude I adopted." She grinned at him, but her smile faded quickly. "Most of all, you didn't run from my fear."

He pulled back, his brow creased as they locked eyes. "Do you fear me, Sara?"

"Not you, Grissom. Just certain emotions."

"Like?"

"Like being so close to someone. Close to you. I was scared that you'd leave me after hearing about Benji. And, I was scared that you'd stay. I know that makes no sense whatsoever, but it is how I felt." She lowered her gaze, not certain she wanted to see his reaction.

Grissom shrugged before pulling her closer. "I think we've got some of the same anxieties. Maybe there's something to what Catherine's been saying all these years? You know, always insisting we were so similar that it spooked her."

"Well," she graced him with a brief smile, "if you remember, our first date was an outright disaster."

"Yes it was. For two people with so much in common, we barely spoke."

"I was afraid of coming across too strong and spooking you," she rubbed her thumb along his chin.

"And, as I told you a few days later, during one of our marathon chats, I was scared to open my mouth. Even when I choose my words carefully, they sometimes don't convey what I'm feeling."

"But you're getting much better."

"I'm trying."

"I know you are." Sara gave him a quick kiss. "And it's not that I don't love talking to you, but right now, I'm hungry."

"You only want me for my food?"

"Yes, Griss. It's time you faced the ugly truth. If Brass could cook better than you, well…"

"…I'm quite skilled in areas outside food preparation."

"Oh really? We should discuss that further."

"We should," he nodded in bemused agreement. Grissom guided Sara to one of the barstools then took a seat next to her. Ladling spaghetti into their two plates, he watched as she dug into the food like a woman possessed.

"Does that mean you like it, Sidle?"

"It means I'm famished, Grissom." She winked at him. "But yes, it's very good.

"See, woman cannot live by scotch alone."

"Apparently," she concurred. A pall seemed to come over her as she lowered her fork to the plate and shivered slightly.

"What's the matter, Sara?"

"I'm not sure. I don't think I should be having…I mean, I should be feeling…God, Griss, I don't even know."

He set his own fork beside his plate and grasped her left hand in his. He froze at the brief hesitation on her part before she intertwined their fingers.

"It's the damned guilt again," she continued. "I'm sitting here laughing with you and enjoying myself and it doesn't seem right."

"Give yourself time, Sara. Twenty years of buried emotions is a lot to deal with."

"I know, Griss. Really, I do."

"You know it, intellectually, but it hasn't sunk in emotionally."

Sara threw her fork down and stood, frustration coloring her features. "I'm not emotionally retarded. Sometimes I think people just assume I am."

Grissom spun on the barstool to face her, his brow raised in unspent anger. "No, that's the easy way out. You can try to place me among the tremendous populace that does not know Sara Sidle, but it's not going to play. Not with me, Sara."

She considered his words and thought of walking out. She considered ignoring him and going into the bedroom. She considered asking him to leave her alone.

What she did was stand, not moving. Tears formed in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She made no move to hide them or swat them away.

Grissom was torn. His response had provoked emotion and the urge to comfort her was almost overwhelming. However, he held back, hoping she could find the conclusion she needed.

More than a minute passed, as Sara stood, physically passive, tears streaming down her face. The grief was silent. No gasps. No choking sobs.

"I hurt, Griss," her voice broke the silence.

It was more than difficult, but he remained sitting, his face seemingly impassive. "I know you do, Sara."

"I think I don't want to feel guilty anymore."

"Okay. We can work on that."

The stunned glaze was still in her eyes as the tears abated. "I'd like to visit Keith."

"Okay."

"Will you come with me, Griss?"

"I will."

"He's in a group home in Los Gatos."

"I'll go with you, Sara."

His words seemed to reassure her, as she raised a hand to wipe the lines her tears had left. "I haven't seen him in three years. It's just really hard."

For the first time in several minutes, she looked directly at Grissom. He graced her with a reassuring smile and she saw her pain mirrored in his eyes.

Grissom rose and crossed the few feet to where Sara stood. They pulled one another into a much-needed embrace.

"Thanks," she whispered in his ear.

"You did the hard part yourself, honey."

"I know, Griss. Thank you for loving me enough to let me."

The End