DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters from 'CSI'. They're not my property.

His watch showed 10 PM. It had been a three hour drive back to Sara's apartment complex. She was quiet through out the trip. He could not remember such silence from her since he gave her a ride home... after her consumption of alcohol had gotten her in trouble.

The engine was turned off and complete silence dominated once more. He looked over at her. Sara was sitting there, fingers closer to her lips, thinking of things he did not have access to at the moment.

He gave her time. "Sara..."

"We were close as kids," Sara finally said, her hand falling on her lap. "We had to be."

Grissom tilted his head, watching her and listening attentively to her.

"We always had a way of getting back at each other, whether the pervious action of the other had been intentional or not." She kept her eyes on the window next to her.

"Like when you found his bag of weed?"

Sara turned her face to him. "You remember that?" she managed to smile weakly.

Grissom shrugged and smiled softly back at her.

"I didn't know what it was. I was a kid... our parents tried to keep us away from those dangerous substances... especially me." She looked ahead.

"What happened earlier?" he decided to ask.

"Ah..." Sara shrugged. "After we met the couple with the baby, Mark and I got into this weird conversation about life partners and..." She paused. How could she explain to Grissom her brother's unique way of getting to her most intimate of places and irritating the hell out of them? She looked down at her hands. "He can make me laugh in a second but..." Sara sighed. "He can also upset me pretty easily."

"Why is that?"

"I used to believe before that he was the only person in the world who could get to me, understand what I was going through." She looked at Grissom. "Our parents certainly didn't understand us as kids... none of my..." she smirked, "friends did as well. I guess that stuck."

"So, his constant traveling isn't the real reason why you two don't keep in touch often."

Sara shook her head. "What can I say, Griss? We've got a complicated relationship."

Her eyes looked so sad; her gaze could always have such might. She smiled weakly and opened the door of the car.

He watched her walk towards to the entrance. His tongue touched his lips. "Hey, Sara?" he called her. When she turned around, he asked, "Would you like some company tonight?"

The line on her lip stretched out briefly. She appreciated his offer. "I'll be fine," she told him and turned around again.

"Okay... night, Sara."

"Good night, Grissom," she glanced at him and disappeared behind the closing doors.

Grissom sat back and gripped the steering wheel. For a moment a thought occurred of him running after her, insisting that she should not spend the night alone. Perhaps that's what her brother did; he reminded her of her loneliness... yet again.

Then the thought disappeared. If she needed someone to be with her, she wouldn't have held that wish back. He respected that. Grissom started the engine and slowly drove away.

She watched his car disappear in the night behind her curtain. Sara was surprised to find him still there. She could see his hand on the wheel, the hesitation on his fingers. She swallowed, thinking of the possibility that he would indeed come to her tonight, despite her refusal.

But she saw him driving away. A feeling of slight disappointment came over her. Maybe she should have accepted his proposal. She turned around and threw her keys on the table. What would have happened if he came? Talk about their isolating state? Do some soul bonding? Comical... at least for now. She could dive into it but... would he?

Her phone rang. "Hello," she answered.

"I'm sorry," his voice was heard.

Sara looked down, bringing her arm around her waist. "I know," she replied softly.

"I didn't mean to twist your day this badly."

"Hey, flowers everywhere? Blankets? It was already bad, Mark," she even joked.

Mark chuckled tenderly. "I'm really glad you came though."

"Despite it all, I wouldn't like to have missed it."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"Are we good?"

Sara sighed, circling the space before her with her gaze. "I guess we are," she replied.

"I thought you would've become immune to all my crap by now."

"Yeah, I wish I was. But I'm not the only one suffering from that, am I?" she smiled softly.

"Nope."

Sara smirked. "Well, I'm glad to hear it," she said.

"We're even."

"For now, that is."

"For now." Mark sighed. "I think he's good for you, Sara. He'll take good care of you."

Sara didn't respond. She didn't know whether to confirm or deny that.

"And maybe you could travel somewhere together in the future. Would do you good, both of you."

"And if that happens, I of course, should ask you for recommended places."

"You got it."

Sara could tell he was grinning to this. She smiled. "I think I might do that."

Mark chuckled. "Sleep well, geek-worm."

"You too, Mark," she said.

Sara sat down. She put her feet up and her head back. Picking up the remote she turned on the stereo. A U2 CD started spinning.

He listened to her. She smirked. Grissom always listened to her; she told him things, secret things... He saw her cry; no one else had seen her cry here.

She glanced over at the left corner of the room; a lonely, green plant giving some life to this, otherwise dead, apartment. She must've been giving it good care since it had managed to survive this long. Had it been because she simply cared for living things or because... he had given it to her? No, he had sent it to her. He did not even sign the card; someone else had done that.

Very impersonal.

Her eyes moved over to her computer. There was that book. She had read it a long time ago, but simply had forgotten to put it with the other books. Sara was busy. This time the card had been signed by him with a simple Merry Christmas. Sara smiled. She even recognized his handwriting. Grissom had nice handwriting. It wasn't exemplary but you could at least read it.

"Just how far would Miss Sidle go to please her boss – Gil Grissom?" Those words popped in her head. Everyone else had been asked something with their past, their fault... and she was attacked with her attraction towards her supervisor. Sara closed her eyes. She went far and beyond to please him in the past. Some he acknowledged, some he didn't. She didn't ask questions.

Sara met others, went out, and had fun. She did not wait for him. Not always anyway...

She had regained her own ground a long time ago. But he went cold on her again. It hurt her, not much, but it hurt.

Sara could go out again. She could find someone. They could have fun. But that would be all - harmless fun. She would not have late night conversations about the history of forensics, or debating her views on a certain novel that she's read, like she could with Grissom. No one else would dare her to cite her source on something personal like a sexual experience in an airplane bathroom. No one else would try to get her mind working furiously, trying to figure out where that quote came from.

He stimulated her intellectually. Sara loved that. No one else had managed to do that to her, and she had the chance of meeting plenty of intellectuals in her lifetime.

And Sara trusted her mind. She trusted its abilities. Her brain had been the only part of her that had never let her down. Her emotions had but her mind did not. She had an endless thirst for knowledge, an endless curiosity, just like him. And he helped her satisfy that thirst... and recently, an emotional one as well, even if more reserved.

She wondered if she had the same effect on him. Secretly, she hoped she did.

He was different however. Maybe she imagined it, but Grissom was changing. He was more forward. The reason was unknown, but she noticed a change.

She breathed out and looked around. "A shower maybe," Sara told herself and stood up.

A uniformed officer greeted them before an opened door of a room in a five star hotel. Inside the room was the body of man laying on the bed with a small hole in his chest.

"Graham Nicholson, 34," Brass said, standing next to them.

Sara nodded and ran across the available space with her eyes. Blood spatter on the bed, the back wall and the table next to it; scattered male clothes and bed sheets. "Night of pleasure turned ugly."

"Murderous," Grissom said. "Someone stole his life and his heart."

"Without your heart, you might as well be dead."

Grissom glanced at her. Her sentence had a deeper meaning than just simple biology.