Sorry for the slight delay with this next chapter. Life can get crazy sometimes.

And thanks for all of the reviews, too.


The door closed and the first thing Sara did was panic.

Spinning around, Sara searched the room trying to locate where Grissom was. But Sara couldn't see the nose on her face in the darkness, so how was she supposed to locate Grissom? She took a few steps backwards in case he was right in front of her. This was something Sara had hoped she wouldn't be dealing with for a while. As of right now, she had more weight on her shoulders that she wanted. She had heard Grissom's 'confession' to Dr. Lurie that day, and had kept it bottled up inside of her. Sara desperately wanted to talk to Grissom about it, but how? It wasn't going to happen casually over coffee in the break room or even in his office sometime after work. 

For the past few weeks, she had been avoiding him trying to keep her distance and stay away from his eye contact. When put on the same case, Sara would go her own way and do her own thing leaving Grissom to do his. It had worked so far and she planned to continue to avoid him until she sorted everything out.

And then of course the power had to go out and she realized now that there was nowhere for her to run to.

Most people would dream of having this kind of scenario with someone they cared about; a dark and deserted room with no one else to see what was going on. But with Sara, the thought of the two of them being alone made her want to puke. Asked if she had feelings for Grissom, Sara would eventually reply yes. She wouldn't come straight out and say it, though, because she has learned that speaking the truth most of the time has consequences. He had shot her invitation down once, and she wasn't about to put herself on the line again if he wasn't going to do anything in return. Maybe he didn't have a clue what to do about them then, but this was now, and after hearing him speak to Dr. Lurie, Sara sure as hell hoped that he had some idea.

Now, the only thing for Sara to do was to hide on the other side of the room. If she remained silent, maybe Grissom would forget that she was even in there with him and he would get bored and leave. Taking a few steps back, Sara sighed in relief. She could just make out the outline of Grissom standing off to the side of her, his gaze focused ahead as if he himself was looking for something. She paused for a moment, incase he were to step forward.

Instead, he called into the darkness, "Sara?"

Sara, being startled at this, took a giant step backwards as Grissom stepped forward. Her hip came in contact with the table in there, and it slid slightly across the floor scraping metal against the tile with a loud screech. Sara cringed.

"Sara, are you okay? Where are you?" Grissom called, and took another step towards her. "Are you over by the table?"

"No," Sara said hurriedly as she rubbed her hip, and then slowly made her way over towards the couch. Grissom wouldn't look for her there. "I'm over by… the coffee pot."

"The coffee pot?" Grissom asked, "But I just head someone hit the table."

"It wasn't me." She lied, and grabbed the couch with her hand. She then maneuvered around it and sat down on the side farthest from Grissom. However, this was where Warrick was sitting when he spilled his coffee, and Sara didn't expect to sit down in the remains of the now cold spill. She screeched and stood up quick, and then felt the dampness on her derrière. 

"Sara?" Grissom asked again, "Stay right there, I'm coming towards you." Sara sighed, and took a seat to the left of where the coffee spill was. She awaited Grissom's arrival over where she was, but he never came. She heard someone else bump the table, but Grissom never came over to the couch.

Sara sighed. Maybe Grissom had gotten bored and left, just like she had hoped, and now this whole awkward situation as going to be avoided.

"You're not over by the coffee pot." Grissom called out dryly.

"I'm on the couch now," Sara mumbled back.

There was a moment of uneasy silence, and then the sounds of Grissom walking across the floor. "Is something wrong, Sara?" he asked as he made his way over to the couch.

Yes, Sara thought, yes, something is wrong. We used to be so close, but now we've grown apart. And in that time growing apart, I grew closer to you while you pushed me away. So now, here I am, confused as to what you are doing with me, and with your life, and I just want answers, Grissom. I want to know why you don't know what to do with me. And when you think no one else is watching, you spill your soul. I was watching, Grissom, and I want to know what that whole thing meant.

Sara, of course, did not reply any of this aloud to him, but instead mustered out a faint, "Yes," but Grissom didn't hear that. 

The couch cushion sagged a little bit then, and Sara could only guess that Grissom had taken a seat next to her. But he did not jump back up, so he obviously had avoided the coffee spill. When the time came for Grissom to find it, he was more than likely going to have Warrick's head for leaving a mess for someone else to clean up.

The two of them sat there for a moment, not sure of what to say. Sara became very stiff and leaned slightly away from where Grissom was sitting. She would have liked it a lot better if he had stayed on the other side of the room. She could smell his aftershave mixed with what Sara could only guess was a faint whiff of his cologne. He smelled so good, and Sara couldn't help but wonder what their relationship would be if things were different.

"I wonder where the others are," Grissom finally spoke, and turned to look at Sara through the darkness. He could see the outline of her head and guessed where her body was located from that. He was sitting close enough to touch her, but far enough away that he wasn't implying anything. And he wasn't trying to imply anything.  Grissom was still suck in his thoughts of Sara and wondered if he could ever patch their friendship up. He felt that things were starting to get better, but they were still a long way from it ever being the same. When Sara fist came to Vegas, they would joke around and smile and laugh, too. Now all they ever seemed to do was scorn at the other.

"They could be anywhere. With our luck, they probably went home," Sara replied, and shifted her weight on the couch. She leaned back and stretched her legs out. Why not get comfortable? She thought, It's not like he can see me, and we might be here a while.

"No, Catherine wouldn't have let them," Grissom respond.

"Catherine would have been the first one out." Sara snorted and dropped her head onto the back of the couch. 

"You're probably right." Grissom sighed, and the two fell silent again. Sara began to tap her toe to a melody in her head, and Grissom prayed that the others would come back soon with flashlights. The silence between the two of them was unbearable, and Grissom knew that Sara would do nothing to change it. He was going to have to be the one to strike up a conversation.

"You know, every twenty minutes a conversation dies down and one person in the group thinks about Abraham Lincoln."  Grissom said aloud, more to himself than to Sara, who straightened herself up on the couch.

"I'm not thinking about Lincoln," Sara stated, and turned to look at Grissom. She could make out the glasses on his face. "It must be you."

"Well, I just said it, so of course I was thinking abbot Lincoln."

"Doesn't that defeat the purpose?" Sara wondered.

"I don't know." Grissom answered back, and the two fell silent again.

"That wasn't twenty minutes," Sara stated after a minute had passed, "and I wasn't thinking about any dead president."

"I was." Grissom replied.

Sara mustered a laugh, "Sure you were, Grissom." 

"No, I was. I was thinking about the Gettysburg Address." He said, defending himself.

Sara arched one of her eyebrows, even though no one would see it. "That's a little pathetic, Grissom."

"Well, what were you thinking about?" He asked, turning to face where she was.

Shrugging her shoulders, Sara wrinkled her nose, "Nothing."

"How could you be thinking about nothing?" Grissom questioned. "Even nothing is something in the mind."

"Grissom, it's like, one a.m. and I really don't want to get into a philosophical debate right this instant." Sara moaned, "Wait for Greg to get back or something."

"No, but think about that for a second. If you were thinking about nothing, it's still something, is it not? Because you mind can really never be blank. There is always something there for it to ponder, even if it is nothingness." Grissom sounded as if he was getting excited about this, and leaned forward in his seat. He could sense Sara right to the side of him.

"Do you stay awake at night thinking about these things?" Sara couldn't help but smile to her self. She leaned forward to stretch her arms above her head.

"And what if I said yes?" Grissom replied.

"Then I'd say you need a hobby." Sara brought her arms back down and rested them on her legs. She could hear Grissom's breathing and knew that he was inches from her on the couch.

"I have a hobby."

"I didn't mean the cockroach racing."

"What about if I found a new hobby?" Grissom replied smugly.

"Something else for you to do in your free time? Wow, I didn't know you were venturing outside again. Do tell." She leaned over to the side towards Grissom, resting her arm on the fabric of the couch.

"You'll just laugh." Grissom put his hands to the side of him, and felt skin instead of fabric. Sara's hand was cold and at his touch and she jumped and pulled her hand back. He felt the weight on the couch shift and Sara move away from him.

Grissom, realizing he had startled her, sighed. "Sara, what happened between us?"

"Nothing, Grissom." Sara said, leaning against he back of the couch again.

"Why did you jump when I touched you?" he asked sincerely. Sara didn't reply, though, and remained silent on her side of the couch.

"Your hands are cold." He finally said.

Sara curled her hands into fists. They were cold. "The heat must have gone off."

"Do you want a jacket?" Grissom asked, and before she could even answer, Grissom got up and walked to the coat rack in the room. He always kept a spare sweater in there just in case and he went and retrieved it, brining it back to the couch. He sat down closer to Sara and placed it around her shoulders; letting his hands linger for a moment before brining them away. 

"Thanks," Sara said softly, taking in the smells of the sweater. It smelled like him and Sara's breathing definitely increased.

"Are you okay now?" He asked her, sliding over a little bit more so that their thighs were touching ever so gently.

"Yeah." Sara knew this was the perfect time to talk to him. She could look right at his face without having to look in his eyes. She twisted around and leaned forward, "Can I talk to you?"

"You always can." Grissom replied, and his heart rate suddenly increased. 

"Why are we like this?" She asked bluntly.

"Why are we like what?" he wondered, sensing where this conversation was heading.

"This," she said, stressing the word. "I jump at your touch, we can't seem to make eye contact, and we don't talk any more. Grissom, in the years that I've known you, we've done a lot more than any of that."

"We have?" Grissom asked, confused. What was Sara getting at?

Sara huffed. "Not like that. You've taped me up, you've pinned me down…"she seemed to trail off with her own thoughts, leaving Grissom to gaze at her strangely for a minute, except then she finished quickly. "But it is all so different now."

"We were young then." Grissom replied, waving his hand around in the air as if he were giving a lecture.

"We worked the Rachel Lyford case back in November. We weren't exactly young then." Sara sighed, and pulled Grissom's sweater closer around her shoulders. It was really cold in the room.

Grissom didn't know how to answer her. Instead, he turned away from her and stared into the darkness ahead of him. "Is there anything else on your mind?" He finally asked.

Sara didn't reply. Grissom reached over and found her hand and took it in his. It was still cold. He held it tight trying to warm it up and he felt Sara's hand stiffen. She was tense, but he wasn't about to give her a hand massage this second in time. Now that would be implying the wrong thing. In its place, he held her hand for a while, until he could feel the warmth coming out of her five fingers. 

"Why did you do that?" Sara asked, drawing her hand back towards her, "It's this type of things that confuses me, Grissom. One minute we seem to be fine and the next you want nothing to do with me. I wish you would stop playing these mind games with me." Sara turned away from him and stared at the break room door, hoping that the others would return soon. She didn't think that she could take too much more of this bonding time with Grissom.

"I don't mean to lead you on," Grissom tried, reaching out and placing a hand on what he guessed was Sara's shoulder. She shrugged it off, and he replaced it again.

"Well, you do." Sara said coldly. "I know that you might not have feelings, but I do."

"Sara," Grissom got up off the couch and made his way around so that he was standing in front of her. He then leaned down so he could stare right at the face he couldn't see in the dark. He was so close to her and could hear her sharp intakes of air. "I'm sorry."

Sara tired to turn away, but she had nowhere else to turn to. "I'm going to need more than just an apology."

Grissom reached forward and grabbed her hands again. He slowly began to lean forward into where she sat. His face was inches away from hers and he could smell the shampoo she used to wash her hair. He only wished that he could see her face at this time, but that was going to have to come at a later time. He leaned in to kiss her – on the cheek – when a bright light was suddenly shown right into their faces.

"Did Sara loose her contact?" Greg asked, leaning forward with the flashlight. "Aw, how sweet. Grissom helped you find it."

Sara didn't bother correcting Greg with the information that she doesn't own contacts, let alone a pair of glasses.  She leaned back on the couch and for the first time since they had entered the break room looked at Grissom. His face was illuminated with Greg's flashlight and he looked as if he wanted to kill Greg.

Moments later, the break room door swung open and Catherine walked in closely followed by Warrick and Nick. "We found Nick a jumpsuit because his pants seem to be MIA." Catherine joked and settled herself down at the table.

"I thought I left them on the bench," Nick mumbled and sat down at the table with her.

"What we did find were some board games." Greg said excitedly and walked over to Warrick who held some boxes in his hands. "Who's up for yatzee?"


TBC