The Eighth Day

Spoilers: Lady Heather's Box and The Accused is Entitled. I missed the 'Swap' episode; I don't know if the Grahams in my story resemble any of the characters there. I hope not.

Note: Thank you so much for your reviews!!! I read them at the office; they really light up my day.

Sara took a deep breath. The air was so fresh, she felt dizzy for a moment. She sat back and huddled under the woolen blanket that Grissom had borrowed from the hotel. She looked up at the sky; even though it was already seven thirty in the morning, the sun was barely a yellowish blur rising behind the mountains. It was still bitterly cold, although the locals working on the shore didn't have any trouble with it; they had their stalls up and ready for the day.

Sara glanced at the man lying on the nearest deck chair.

Grissom was asleep- or so she assumed, since he had covered his face with a baseball cap. They were sitting on the deck of a boat -not the fastest boat, Grissom had warned her, but the owner was trustworthy and knew his way around. He also included what Grissom called a 'great breakfast' and that's what they were waiting for. Sara smiled. She suddenly felt like a spoiled rich woman.

She reached for Grissom's cap, wondering if she could be bold enough to lift it... she really wanted to take a peek at him; she had never seen his face in repose.

Nah. She would never dare invade his privacy, no matter how tempting.

Besides, he needed the rest. He had worked at the reserve until four in the morning, and then he had insisted on making the arrangements for this trip. He took a half hour to shower and change, and when he picked her up at seven, everything was ready. The poor guy had to be worn out.

And there was something else: Grissom liked being alone and she knew it. Like last night. He had shared his work at the reserve with her, but she instinctively knew that she was distracting him from his study. After a couple of hours, she quietly picked a book and sat to read while he took his pictures and finished jolting down some notes. Even the reserve keepers knew that he wanted to be alone.

She understood the feeling; she enjoyed solitude too. However, she enjoyed being with Grissom more. They shared a love for knowledge, and when they got along, they communicated so well they didn't even need to talk. Sara sighed. She realized they got along better when neither of them mentioned love, and the thought bothered her. It almost made her wonder if it was worthwhile, to keep threatening their friendship like this-

She shook her head. It was too late to back off. Love was the reason they had come here, and it was only a matter of time before something happened. She wanted to sleep with him and he seemed to want it too. Last night, when she had mentioned that she liked his scent (and she still couldn't believe she had uttered those words!), he had reacted. If they had been back at the hotel, near that sumptuous bed- She shivered. She wished she could simply ask him, but she was afraid of turning him off.

And quite frankly... she wished he did the pursuing for a change.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the boat owner.

"Breakfast ready." Carlos said, bearing a tray.

Carlos had met hundreds of tourists for twenty years now, and during that time he had seen everything. From people who took off their clothes to better enjoy the Xocomil to couples who spent the whole day having sex in the cabin, instead of looking at the scenery. There were people who seemed to find God in these waters, and people who simply drank and had to be carried back to their hotels.

This was maybe the first time he'd seen two grown people play with their food.

Dr. Grissom had asked him to include some fresh fruit in their breakfast, and he had taken the time to teach the young lady the names of fruits she'd never seen before. Carlos watched as the doctor picked up a plump granadilla for the young lady. He opened a hole on the ovoid fruit's hard skin.

"You have to scoop the insides-" he said. The young woman took a peek inside and hesitated, "I know." Dr. Grissom said with a nod, "It looks ugly; but it's sweet and you'll like it."

"Grissom, that looks like... like..."

"Yes," he said, barely containing his mirth, "it looks like nasal secretions, but-"

"Yuck, Grissom!" she laughed, "I wasn't going to say it!"

And then Dr. Grissom started sucking on the fruit, with exaggerated slurping noises.

"Mmmmmh! This is goooood." He said, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Oh, bleah" she groaned.

"Try one." He insisted, opening another of the fruits and playfully shoving it in her face.

"No." she avoided him, but he was pretty persistent, "Grissom, I'm warning you." She growled, pushing him back. "I'll try the other fruits, but not that awful thing!"

She demurely ate a piece of pitaya. Then she cut a guayaba in half and peered inside.

"Eek. It has worms in it." She looked evilly at him, "You love worms, don't you? Here, my friend-" And then it was her turn to tease him. And so it went, for a whole hour, until they finished the fruit, worms and all.

Carlos liked these two. They listened as he told them the tales he'd learned by heart when he was a kid, and they seemed interested in every bit of information he gave them about the villages they saw from afar.

Then, when the day turned unbearably hot, the young woman decided to swim.

Carlos shook his head. She was a nice young woman, but not what he'd call a beauty. However, he could see the effect she had on Dr. Grissom; and when she came out of the cabin in a blue swimsuit, the look in the doctor's face had been priceless. The poor man was besotted.

"You look good." Dr. Grissom said simply, even though it was clear that he thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

"Thanks." She said, acting as if she didn't notice the look in his eyes. But she did notice; she was blushing. "It's your turn." she said.

"My turn?" he frowned.

"You brought your cut offs, didn't you? I'm not the only one showing skin today, Grissom." She warned, "Go change."

"Maybe later." He said evasively.

"Grissom?" she said crossing her arms, "I can wrestle you out of that chair if I want."

"Sara..." he sighed.

"I mean it." She said firmly.

Carlos smiled as Dr. Grissom reluctantly went to the cabin to change into denim cut offs. It was great seeing the doctor have some fun, diving from the boat and splashing around with the young lady. He had wondered what kind of relationship those two had, but now he wasn't wondering anymore. He was glad. He liked to think of his old boat as The Love Boat of Pana.

He couldn't imagine that in only a couple of hours, things would change, and not for the better.

Grissom believed that after Pana, Santiago was the best place to get a decent lunch. As Carlos also wanted to visit his family, they decided to stay at Santiago for a few hours.

After visiting a painter's studio, Grissom and Sara walked to the main plaza.

"That's the place I mentioned in my e-mail." he said suddenly, pointing at a small house. It boasted a big sign that read, 'Chat room. Free cappuccino'.

"Oooh, that's the place you almost wrecked." She teased. She took a discreet look inside. "That place will go up in flames one of these days!" she lamented.

They continued their walk, but she kept glancing at him.

"Grissom?" she said at last, "Why didn't you want me to read that e-mail?"

"I never talk about my feelings-" He said without looking at her. "You know that."

"I do." She admitted. She looked sideways at him, "But I loved what you wrote." She said, "You'd never opened up before. It was beautiful-"

"It was embarrassing, Sara." he said curtly, "Even I didn't want to read it." He shook his head, "Nobody wants to do anything stupid or ridiculous-"

Sara shot him a look.

"Yeah," he chuckled, "You're right; after writing that e-mail and after falling on my butt, there's little I can say about being ridiculous-"

"It's not that. I was thinking of all the times I asked you out and you made me feel - I don't know, as if I were some weird specimen-"

"Is that how I've made you feel?" He cringed.

"Well, yes. Sometimes-" she amended.

"I'm sorry, Sara. I never thought of you in those terms, believe me." He said sincerely, "If anything, I am the weird specimen, not you."

"You're not a-"

"Yes, I am," He said gently. "We both know that."

They walked in silence towards the plaza at the end of the street.

"I don't mind being different," he said thoughtfully, "It's useful in my job; it throws people off-" He said casually. "- it keeps people away." He added.

He realized those words were just wrong. Sara didn't comment, but she purposefully walked towards the colorful stalls in the middle of the plaza, leaving him behind. There were goods in leather, wood, and glass, and Sara stooped to examine the wood sculptures. She hoped to find something for Brass' desk.

Grissom watched her for a moment, and noticed that her hands were trembling a little. He sighed and went to her. He took her arm and gently motioned her towards a quiet spot away from the stalls.

"Sara," he paused and took a deep breath. "I guess we need to talk."

"Yes." She said, expectantly.

"Ok." He said, "I guess it's my turn." He admitted. "I'm..." he started and then he paused. He wondered if there was a better way of saying the words he had in mind. Probably not. "I'm not someone who'll make things easier for you." He said slowly. He realized by the look in his face, that this was not what she was hoping to hear. "I'm older, but not wiser," he added, "I'm clueless about a lot of things-"

"So am I-" she interrupted.

"-and I'm too old to change." He finished. "I can try," he offered, "But there are things that I don't want to change. Disgusting, unromantic things, like raising cockroaches and keeping ants and maggots-"

"I know that-"

"Then there's something that we often forget, but it's very important: I won't help you forget the horrors you encounter in your job, Sara." he paused, letting those words sink in, "I'll only remind you of them."

Sara looked at him in silence.

"I have nightmares and wake up in a cold sweat several times a week," he said, "and that's only if I'm lucky enough to fall asleep." He looked at her in the eye, "That's not much fun, is it?"

"No." she admitted, "But -"

"I know you must go through something similar. I really don't know how these horrors affect your personal life-" he paused again, "No, wait; I know now how they affect you; you were drinking, after all-"

"Grissom-" she tried to interrupt, but he didn't notice.

"You were hurting-" he closed his eyes briefly, "And I didn't see it-"

"It's not your-"

"What I mean is," he interrupted, "that far from helping you, I might only add to the burden. So," he gulped, "you better think this over, Sara."

"I've already thought about this." She said calmly, "I traveled all the way here to be with you." She touched his cheek, "It's really your decision now."

"I can't make that decision." He said reluctantly.

She gaped and he hurried to reassure her.

"Sara," he said, taking her hand, "You decide. I promise to do anything you ask me to." He offered. "Anything. But I need you to think really hard about this. Then let me know. Ok?"

Sara would have liked the restaurant in other circumstances. The tables were arranged in a semi circle, with a colonial style fountain in the middle. That was ok. The problem was that they had almost no privacy since the only barrier between them and the street were a few rose bushes. All the things she would have liked to tell him would have to wait until they were really alone.

Sara had been aware of Grissom's blue gaze on her, but she had stubbornly kept her eyes on the menu. But food was the least of her concerns. All she could think of was his offer: anything... anything...

She should be happy, right? She should be jumping up and down, making plans for tonight. Hell; maybe she should simply ask him to get in the boat and race back to Pana-

Well, she wasn't happy. Those words of his only made her feel as if he had turned her down again. As always. Why, Grissom? Why can't you say it?

The waitress came to take their order, making a fuss over Grissom.

"Churrasco, Dr. Grissom?" she asked with some familiarity, her tone suggesting that she already knew he would say yes.

"Not today," he said. "I'll have the pasta."

Sara ordered a salad and a fruit smoothie, and after the waitress left, she turned to Grissom.

"Churrasco." Sara repeated, "That's broiled meat, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Grissom said.

"You can eat meat if you want, Grissom," she said deliberately, "you don't have to hold back just because I'm a vegetarian." she leant on the table, "In fact," she added, letting anger take control of her words, "You can take that as my first command. I mean, if it's true that you'll do anything I ask you to."

Grissom's expression didn't change, and Sara looked away.

The waitress brought their food, and glanced from one to the other, a tentative, worried smile on her lips.

'She thinks we're having a lovers' quarrel.' Sara thought. 'Lovers, right.'

Sara smiled to the waitress, just to reassure her.

They ate, exchanging only a few words. Silence was becoming unbearable, when Sara noticed that the Grahams were coming down the street. Sara looked away and fervently hoped the Grahams wouldn't spot them... but of course they did.

They waved and, with the confidence that personal beauty gives, didn't wait for Sara or Grissom to invite them over.

"Gil, Sara! It's great to see you!"

"Yeah. Small world, huh?" she said weakly.

"We're going to Reds' for a drink." Steven said, "Why don't you come over after you finish lunch?"

"We'll see." Grissom said.

"What boat did you come in?" asked Marcia, "We could go back together to Pana-"

They exchanged a few words, and Grissom ended up offering them a ride home. Sara smiled bitterly. Apparently, someone didn't want to be alone with her now.

The Grahams crossed the street again, warmly greeting a couple that waited for them on the sidewalk. Sara watched as Marcia performed her standard kiss-on-both-cheeks-pat-on-the-ass greeting on the man.

Sara shook her head.

"That doesn't look so innocent, does it?" She mumbled, "Why does she do it?"

"I asked her about it once." Grissom said, "I told her she was playing with fire."

"What did she say?"

"She laughed," He said, smiling faintly, "she said I had a provincial mind. She also said that Steven would never be jealous, because he knew everything was just for fun, spice of life, etc." He stared at the bar, even though the Grahams were no longer on sight, "I still tried to warn her, and told her that in my line of work, the green-eyed monster wrecked lives."

"And-?"

He scratched his beard, thoughtfully.

"She said that Steven wasn't possessive, and that neither of them believed their happiness should rest exclusively in each other's hands."

Sara glanced at the bar too.

"What do you think?" she asked after a pause.

"Uh?" he glanced at her. He seemed lost in thought.

"Do you agree with them?" she asked.

"At the time, I thought it was very unselfish of them." He said simply.

"So, you agree with them." She said, staring at her empty plate.

"I don't know. There was a time when I was glad that Hank Pedigrew was making you happy."

Sara flushed. It was the first time he said that name out loud, and she couldn't believe he'd mention him today of all days. But suddenly it seemed the perfect set up for her own question.

"Did Lady Heather make you happy?"

The words rattled him, even though he recovered quickly. He opened his mouth and it seemed he wanted to say several things, but couldn't decide what.

"I didn't make her happy." He said in the end. He looked at her. "Who told you?" he asked.

"Catherine. Brass, too."

"Of course," he muttered.

"Did you love her?" she asked, and she held her breath as she waited for his answer.

"No." he said.

"Did she love you?"

"I don't think so." he said with a soft chuckle.

They remained in silence for a while.

"I admired her." He said suddenly and waited until she lifted her gaze, "She's a perceptive woman." He explained, "She could have been a really great investigator."

Sara knew that was the greatest compliment he could give anyone.

"She had great insight," he said thoughtfully; "she was able to look at a person and knew stuff about them. She could have been a profiler. I'd never- I'd never met anyone like her."

Sara looked down and discovered that she had been shredding a paper napkin without noticing. She placed her hands flat on the table.

"It took her a minute to analyze me." He said after a pause. He looked at Sara. "Would you like to know what she found out about me?"

Yeah, she wanted to know, but not if it had anything to do with her. Before she answered his question, Grissom spoke.

"When we met, I was standing behind Catherine and Brass and I let them talk. According to her, I was someone who was feeling overwhelmed by his responsibilities and longed to leave them in someone else's hands."

"Were you?"

"I guess." He shrugged slightly, "At the time, I was having some difficulty dealing with my job as Supervisor; it was consuming my time in ways I had not anticipated." He admitted.

"But you'd never give up your job, would you?"

"No. And that was the contradiction she talked to me about. Part of me longed to give up the responsibility, but at the same time I couldn't do that. I crave control; it's what defines who I am. Being Supervisor feeds that need in me, and I don't want to lose it" he stared at the fountain while he reminisced, "She said that I needed to be in control of every aspect of my life, because I equated control with safety. The prospect of losing control terrified me-"

"Is that true?" she asked quietly.

He looked at her.

"It made sense at the time." He said simply.

"So, she analyzed you." She said, staring at her hands, "Is that all she did?"

"She offered to help me give up control. She said I didn't have to be afraid; that she'd take care of me-"

Sara frowned. Talk about weird.

"And?" she pressed.

He scoffed, "I said thank you, and fled."

"But you were intrigued." Sara said, "You found out all about her; you checked up her website-"

He didn't even ask how she knew this. Apparently, he hadn't been that discreet. Or maybe Sara knew him too well. The thought made him feel uncomfortable.

"She offered to take over, Sara." He explained, "Of course I was intrigued. The thought of letting go with someone who would accept me unconditionally- It was tempting." he shrugged, "I wasn't planning on seeing her again, but when a case came up, I thought, why not? There was nothing to stop me, since-" he stopped.

"Since what?" she pressed. Grissom looked at her.

"Since you were with someone else."

Sara flushed again.

"You only needed an excuse-" she challenged, refusing to take the blame for his actions. "She'd been in your mind since that first meeting." She paused, waiting for an answer. "What did you really expect from her? Love?"

"Company, I guess. Acceptance. I thought-" he stopped for some reason. "We both knew what we could get from each other, without expecting anything else."

"You were willing to let her take over your life-" she said, looking at him in the eye, "You wanted to submit-" she paused, but he didn't say anything. Sara shook her head, "I don't believe you can let someone take over your life like that." Sara said softly, "Not if you want to be someone's equal."

Grissom frowned over this, but with a faint smile. She was right, of course. A relationship with Lady Heather wouldn't have been equal.

"I mean," Sara added, "Did you really believe she was being selfless about it? Didn't you realize she would want something in exchange?"

He shrugged.

"I didn't mind her taking over my body, Sara," He said softly. "I thought I could keep my soul to myself."

"And you could?" she asked skeptically.

"Yes." He said, "The case I was investigating- When the evidence pointed to her, I did my job. She expected me to spare her and I didn't."

Sara had kept her hands on the table. She looked at them, noticing that the nail polish was chipping away.

"But you were willing to go to her-" she faltered. "If that case had turned out differently," She said slowly, "You would have stayed with her."

"I don't know, Sara." He said truthfully.

Sara shredded another napkin while Grissom stared at her. They remained in silence until the Grahams' voices called for their attention.

"Hey, Gil and Sara!" they waved.

"We're cursed," Sara muttered.

Steven leant on their table.

"Gil. It's getting chilly. I think the Xocomil will be acting up today. Couldn't we go back earlier?"

Grissom looked around, and he noticed that in fact the day wasn't sunny anymore.

"You're right." He said, pushing his chair back, "I'll go get Carlos. He's at his mom's house." He took out his wallet, but Sara intervened.

"Never mind," She said, "You go, and I'll pay."

Grissom didn't hurry back to the boat. He needed time to put his thoughts in order. Things were getting out of control. Talking had been his idea, but he hadn't planned on mentioning Lady Heather. He wasn't ready to talk about her, not with Sara. The truth was, he didn't feel proud of what he had done.

He could embellish it, of course; he could say that he needed friendship, or unconditional acceptance. The truth was harder to admit: he had gone to Lady Heather like a teenager who goes to a whore to learn about sex. Only, he had gone to her hoping to learn how to have a relationship.

Whatever his motives, the relationship was doomed to fail. Lady Heather walked a fine line between lawful and unlawful acts, and the complete acceptance she had offered came with a price that was just too high. Sara was right; Lady Heather hadn't been interested in being his equal. She had expected him to overlook the evidence he'd followed all the way to her own door and never understood why he couldn't do that. She accused him of sabotaging their budding relationship because he couldn't deal with the fact that she knew him like nobody else had.

He did try to apologize and to salvage their friendship, but she didn't let him. the last time he saw her, her Lady Heather act was back and with a vengeance; she was harsh and aggressive, and she didn't offer him tea or books or even a normal conversation. She told him to either submit or leave, knowing very well that he would never choose the first.

It was only later that he understood why she hadn't let him explain. During the few hours they had spent together - drinking tea, browsing books; she had lowered her defenses and let him see a part that she jealously kept to herself- a softer and vulnerable side –just the opposite of who Lady Heather was. And after she gave him that, Grissom had not hesitated to take her to the precinct. No wonder she couldn't forgive him: He had come to know her, and instead of cherishing that knowledge, he had rejected her.

In the end, only one thing remained clear to him: If he could hurt someone like Lady Heather, he didn't want to imagine what he could do to Sara.

Sara and the Grahams were talking animatedly on the deck and didn't see him at first. Grissom noticed that Steven was touching Sara as he talked –an arm, a shoulder; casual, innocent moves that Grissom had seen before and meant that this guy was in full seduction mode.

"Carlos is coming back in five minutes." Grissom called out, and the three of them turned.

"Oh, good." Marcia said, "I hope we beat the Xocomil-"

"What is the Xocomil?" asked Sara, "I've been hearing that word all day."

"It's a high wind that blows over the lake most afternoons." Grissom explained, as he approached them, "The water gets choppy, and it rains sometimes."

"Another weather change? Please don't tell me it snows too." Sara half-joked wearily.

"No, it doesn't." Grissom glared.

"Actually, there's a more romantic explanation to the Xocomil," said Steven, looking at Sara, "The legend says that hundreds of years ago, two young lovers –the Mayan Romeo and Juliet, if you want- left their homes and tried to flee to another village. They were captured and killed just as they were reaching the shore. Since then, their spirits found a home in these waters." He lowered his voice to add, "The Xocomil symbolizes the moment of their coupling."

"Oh." Sara muttered.

"Those spirits," Marcia chuckled, "they know how to have fun, I can tell you." She glanced at Grissom, who had kept his gaze on Sara. "Talking about spirits," she added, "Last night I heard some awful screams. Did you hear anything, Gil? Oh!" she exclaimed, "I forgot you didn't sleep at the hotel last night!" she said, glancing at Sara.

"He had to finish his study at the butterfly reserve," Sara explained.

Grissom frowned. Why was she explaining? Was she afraid these two idiots would think he had spent the night at her hotel?

"So, anyway-" Marcia added, "I was thinking maybe it was the Chupacabra-"

"Whoa, the Chupacabra?" Sara looked at Grissom, "Isn't that an urban legend of some kind?"

"It was awful," Marcia continued, "It sounded like a squealing pig-"

"Maybe it was a pig," Grissom said sarcastically, "There were pork chops on the menu today."

"Aw, Gil, you're so bad!" Marcia laughed; but Sara glared at Grissom; she didn't appreciate the joke at all.

He sighed. Yep. Everything was getting out of control.

Steven had been right. Barely half an hour after leaving Santiago, the wind and the rain forced Carlos to stop the engine and to shepherd his tourists into the cabin. Grissom and Sara didn't mind; both had books to read. The Grahams, however, were soon getting cranky.

"We should have bought that bottle of wine," Marcia muttered, "At least we'd have something fun to do."

For almost an hour, the storm raged and Marcia nervously muttered something about 'damn horny spirits'. She was getting a bit seasick too, and Sara generously let her have the couch so she could sleep a little. Grissom quietly read and ignored all this, but after a while, he noticed the silence and glanced around: Marcia was still asleep and Steven was talking to Sara in hushed tones. He was being friendly, telling her of his work at his family vineyard; and then he casually put his hand on her thigh.

Sara stared at the hand for a moment, and calmly said something that made the young man pull his hand away, as if it had been burned. He chuckled a little and put up both hands up.

"Ok, ok; I get it."

Sara smiled coldly and quietly rose. She mumbled something to Carlos and went out. She knew there was a small space on deck where she could stand without getting pelted by the rain.

Grissom joined her soon after.

"Hey." he greeted.

"Hey." She said, making room for him, "Strange weather, huh?"

"It'll clear up, you'll see." He said, "You ok?" he asked, looking closely at her, "You're not seasick, are you?"

"No," she glared.

"It's ok if you are, Sara."

"I'm not," she insisted.

Grissom didn't say anything for a while.

"By the way," he said casually, "What did you tell Graham back in there?"

"I told him to keep his hands to himself or I'd crush them."

He smiled but she didn't. She was looking at the gray sky.

"Can I tell you something stupid?" She asked, "Sometimes I wish you made a pass at me."

Grissom looked away.

"I'm scared." He whispered after a while.

"What is it?" she asked, looking around, "Is it the boat? You don't it will hold up?"

"It's not the boat, Sara." He said patiently, "It's all this. You and me- the unknown." He shook his head, "I'm scared of anything I can't predict. Control, remember?" He said, "I'm cursed with the need to know what the consequences of my actions will be-"

"Grissom," she interrupted, "The 'curse' is that you always assume the worst is going to happen." She said vehemently, "You think we're somehow doomed to fail. You said back there that you'd do anything I asked you to, but I'm sure- so sure- that you don't believe it's going to work out." she paused, waiting for him to deny it, "Why? Why can't you take the risk? I have the feeling that you see me as a fragile creature who won't be able to take the smallest problem-" she shook her head, "And I'm not fragile-"

"You're a strong woman, Sara," he said gently, "But you're not as indestructible as you want everybody to think. You're just afraid that we'll think less of you if you show any weakness-" He paused when he noticed her blushing in embarrassment. Apparently, he was right. "We won't, Sara." He said, gently touching her face, "It's ok to be vulnerable -" he added, but she shied away from his touch.

"I've been vulnerable a hundred times, only to have my face smashed against that wall you keep around you."

Grissom let his hand fall at his side.

It was true. He had built that wall through the years to protect himself, and to keep that precious control intact.

"You're right," he admitted reluctantly, "I've used that wall all my life, and it's kept me safe. Maybe it's kept others safe, too." he shrugged, "I'm just not the great guy you seem to think I am, Sara- at least, not the kind that you should be with. I don't know if I can make you happy, and you deserve to be-" He stopped when he saw her roll her eyes.

"Grissom," She said, "You made me happy today."

Grissom frowned. He had?

He looked down. What had he done today? He remembered hurrying to book this trip, and going to her hotel to pick he up – and she'd been pissed off because he had not given her enough time to put on some make up. Later, he'd grossed her out by eating the granadillas and the worm-filled guayabas- but she had laughed too, hadn't she? And then...

And then she put on her swimsuit, and she blushed when he told her she looked good in it. He recalled with a shiver how her whole body turned rosy when she blushed.

He blinked. Sara was talking again.

"All morning, you were so... so nice. Funny and sweet." She said wistfully. "I really thought we were connecting at last-" She turned to look fully at him, "Look. I know it's hard to open up, and I know that relationships are difficult, but-" she shook her head, "-when I think of all you were willing to do for her- It makes me mad, ok? I mean- What is it that made her so special? You can tell me; I know very well that I can't compete with her-"

"Sara, it's not what you think-" he said.

"What is it then?" she asked, "Why was it easier to go after her?"

"Because I didn't care about her," he said abruptly. He looked at her, not knowing what else to say. He was vaguely aware that his shirt was getting drenched by the rain, but right now he was more concerned about her. She deserved to know the truth and he'd have to tell her, no matter how bad he felt about it, "I went to her because I knew that if things didn't work out, losing her wouldn't be as devastating as losing you. It wouldn't really matter, because- because what I felt for her wasn't remotely what I feel for you."

Her eyes were open wide. She couldn't believe he was saying this. He took a deep breath to continue.

"It was easier to go to her because she was offering the kind of relationship I thought I could measure and put limits to, whereas being with you –the way I imagine it- means losing all control. With you, there would be no limits, Sara. No safety nets either. Everything that I am-" he gulped. "I would be out in the open and I'd want to give you everything, and it's scary-"

Sara noticed the emotion in his eyes and she was overwhelmed. No limits, he'd said. She understood now what having someone's happiness in one's hands, meant. She suddenly realized that things weren't as simple as she'd thought.

Grissom looked at her, trying to read her expression, and wondering if he had said too much.

"I didn't know it was like this for you-" she said softly.

"I'm sorry."

"No." she put her hand on his arm, "No, please; don't be. I'm glad you told me."

"Are we ok, then?" he asked.

She nodded, but she seemed strangely quiet. She had lost her own confidence.

"Sara... did I make you happy today?"

"Yes," she nodded, "You did."

He smiled. He had made her happy, and without really trying.

"You made me happy, too." He said gently.

She lifted her gaze.

"I did?" she asked. She seemed surprised. And relieved.

"You always do." He said and then he chuckled. "Even when you're pissed off or impatient at me."

She glared, but there was a little smile on her lips softening the glare, and he was encouraged by that.

"Can I make a pass at you?" he asked.

She didn't think it was silly to be asked something like this. She simply nodded, looking up expectantly. Grissom tentatively put a hand on her hip. Then he leant to kiss her. Sara's eyes widened and she quickly bent over backwards.

"What is it?" he asked, concernedly.

"Hum. I... uh." She hesitated, looking at his mouth, "I ate that salad that, hum... it had lots of garlic and-"

"It's ok." He soothed, "This is perfect," he said, lowering his voice, "Remember those first times we were talking about yesterday?" he paused. She nodded, "First time kissing." He said, and he leant until his lips touched hers.

Carlos was really surprised to see Dr. Grissom making out with Miss Sidle. He thought it was going to be the Grahams out there in the rain.

Well, he only hoped they wouldn't take off their clothes.

TBC