A/N: Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed.  And special thanks to Maddy for the vote of confidence.

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After careful deliberation, Grissom chose a restaurant with a casual atmosphere.  It was lunch, after all, and he felt it might be wisest to keep things light on this first date.  His hands froze on the menu, his knuckles whitening.  Was this a date?  What did Sara think?  He hadn't stopped to consider that she may view it as merely a friendly lunch; a celebratory meal to show his gratitude.  He cursed his persistent insecurities and forced himself to relax.

"Can I ask you something?" Sara inquired when the waiter left to place their orders.

"Sure."  He hoped he sounded more certain than he felt.

"Why 'The Discovery of America by Christopher Columbus'?"

Not understanding the question, he gave her a quizzical look.  "The Dali print on your wall," she clarified.  "The extent of most people's Dali knowledge begins and ends with 'Persistence of Memory'."

"It has a meaning on many different levels."

"Says the master of double meanings," Sara smiled.

He arched an eyebrow. "Which one would you have chosen?"

"I have the DNA one in my living room.  'Homage to Crick and Watson'. Talk about multiple meanings…"

"The hand of God reaching down while mankind lines up to destroy itself.  It's very powerful," Grissom concurred.  "In my experience, most scientific people don't care much for art."

"I never paid much attention to it until I was in college," she confessed. "Then I was in the library one day looking through back issues of Scientific American.  They had 'Slave Market With the Disappearing Bust of Voltaire' on the cover, and it fascinated me.  I took the art course then to help fulfill my humanities requirement."

"If I remember correctly, they used it to illustrate the concept of double imagery."

"I know it's clichéd, but I also have the 'Hallucinogenic Toreador'." She took another sip of her drink. "I've always wondered what that man was smoking."

"When asked that very question, Dali answered 'I am my own hallucinogen.'"

"You're amazing. You even know art." Sara shook her head and chuckled.  "So what got your science mind looking at art?  Quid pro quo, Dr. Grissom."

"My mother runs a gallery.  Mostly surrealism, cubism and abstract," he replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Another little piece of the Grissom puzzle," she said, treating him to the gap-toothed grin he adored.

"After this week, you should be nearly finished assembling that puzzle."

"Not even close," she teased. "But I'm looking forward to finding more pieces."

The meals arrived, and the conversation turned more serious.  "I can't believe we can't get those two on anything," Sara stewed.

"We don't have any evidence that isn't circumstantial.  It's not worth pursuing."

"So they'll just move on to another town and another target?'

"Probably," Grissom nodded.

"Grissom…" Sara switched subjects hesitantly. "What is this?  I mean, is this just lunch…or is it more?"

Grissom swallowed, but the lump in his throat didn't clear.  "It's funny you should ask that.  I'm hoping that it's more."

"More. As in..."

He nodded nervously.  Sara gave him a gentle prod.  "As in…you're going to have to say it.  Ambiguity's not going to work anymore."

"As in," he answered with a measure of optimism, "a date."  Grissom felt his heart, and his confidence, swell when she rewarded him with that amazing smile a second time.

"Where do we go from here?"  She asked softly.

His response was honest and to the point.  "I don't know enough about relationships to have an answer for that."

"Then go with what your heart says.  No thinking required."

"It would be very ungentlemanly to do what my heart wants to do right now."

Sara's face blushed a deep red.  "That doesn't mean it would be the wrong thing to do.  Or would that make me less than a lady?"

"You'll always be a perfect lady in my eyes," he said sincerely.

"And you say you're not good at this," she chuckled. "Any way, I'm not sure that's your heart talking."

"It is. And other parts, as well.  It's all of me—body and soul."

When they'd finished their lunch, Grissom paid the bill and the pair stood beside between their cars, parked side by side in the lot.  Suddenly, the relaxed banter was gone, replaced by an awkward quiet.

"Um, Grissom," Sara broke the silence, "Thank you for lunch."

Grissom moved toward her. "You're very welcome. Thank you for coming."

They stood very close now.  Grissom took the initiative. "And thank you for not…giving up on me."

"There were times when I came very close to giving up," she admitted seriously.  "But no matter how bad things got, I just couldn't bring myself to walk away."

"I'm sorry I made it so hard on you."

"It was very hard on you, too. I know that."

"You can't begin to imagine." His breath was on her face.  "Tell me if I'm pushing my luck, but would you like to come over tomorrow night?  I think I owe you a dinner."

"Tomorrow?"

"Too soon?"

"No. Tomorrow's good."  He leaned forward, and their lips met.  It seemed like an eternity to Sara, an eternity she would gladly have extended.  When he finally broke the kiss, he pulled her into an embrace. 

As they got into their vehicles, a thought occurred to Sara, but she wasn't certain whether it was one she should voice.  She decided against it, deciding to take care of the problem herself.  She would simply have to make a stop at the drugstore on the way home.

Grissom felt the need to maintain the contact for as long as possible; he didn't want to let her out of his sight. "Sara?" he called out.  "Is there anything in particular you'd like for dinner?"

"I'll be happy with whatever you decide—provided it's meatless."  She grinned from behind her sunglasses.

"Of course." Grissom resigned himself to the fact that he would have to wait until the following day to see her again.  "I'm, uh, looking forward to seeing you."  He reluctantly closed the car door and drove away.  

The previous week had been arguably the worst week of his adult life, yet somehow he couldn't feel bitter about it. It had forced him to open himself up to Sara, even if only to a small degree.  She had learned things about him that he'd carefully hidden for many years, and the world hadn't come to a screeching halt. No locusts, no tidal waves, no implosion of his head.  In fact, he felt better about himself and his relationship with Sara than he had in a great while.  He had conquered a very deep-seated fear, and the future was shining brightly—almost as brightly as her amazing smile.  He looked forward to seeing that smile regularly for the rest of his days.

End