She looks so pale and fragile, and in his new state of awareness, Grissom is almost afraid to approach her. He walks towards her, gently, afraid to spook her. No longer smothering his instincts under years of retreat, he is aware all he wants to do is hold her.

Will she let me? Is it too late? Have I lost her? Sara, my Sara, I should have told you. Would you be here if I had told you?

With a deep breath, he surrenders the last of his defences.

"C'mon, I'll take you home."

She comes willingly, and he's surprised to find how compliant she is. And how right her hand feels in his hands. Her long, soft fingers wrapped around his. The feeling of warmth that spreads from his hand, so tightly clutched around his, to the rest of his body.

They reach the car, and Sara goes to get in, but he won't let go of her hand.

I never want to let go of you again. I can't. What if I lose you? How can I make you stay, now I know I need you?

Sara misinterprets him, and starts to say something.

"Grissom, I'm sorry..."

Still holding her hand, with his other hand, he places his fingers on her mouth to shush her. Her eyes widen, surprised, but she doesn't say a thing.

"I'm sorry. I...I..." he tries to say.

Grissom has lost his articulacy. He has no words for this.

I love you

His mouth opens and closes, and he is aware he must look stupid, not a word coming out, but he has lied for so long, the truth cannot get past his throat.

I need you

She is turning away, disappointed.

Sara, please, still love me. I will die if you don't.

And he realises he doesn't need words. Gently, he leans forward. He hasn't done this in so very long, he's afraid he'll get it wrong. And all of a sudden, he's as unsure as a schoolboy.

What if she pulls away? What if I've already lost her?

But then he looks in her eyes. And he realises that while she has only ever seen excuses in his eyes, he can see truth in hers. And, his hand in her hair, he kisses her.

It's an almost shy kiss, at first. She is unsure, and he is unpractised. But then her hand reaches up, to his cheek, and pulls him in closer, and he feels the passion build inside him, and her lips part beneath his, and he wraps his arm around her, and draws her close to him. And this, this is the fairy-tale kiss he'd always dreamed of but doubted existed. Electric shivers down his spine, warmth spreading through him, his head light and spinning.

He pulls away, eventually. And looks at her.

"No more excuses." He says.

"I never made any." She tells him.

"I was telling myself." He tells her, and brushes away the hair blown across her face. And he knows, now, the truth.

I love Sara.

THE END