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

The kneeled down in front of it. He should have found a suitable place on his wall or given it to Sara by now, but he had done neither. Grissom never asked for the original photograph. To him, the realism of this painting was the photograph. His mother had taken her time and given the characters and background real care; he could tell by the brushstrokes. There was one difference from the original though. Their smiles seemed natural instead of forced here. How did she imagine it so well? But then, he remembered, she always had a good memory.

His eyes suddenly narrowed on a detail of the image. A ring; a thin golden line on their left fingers. Grissom closed his eyes. He shook his head with a deep sigh. "Mother…" he whispered with slight annoyance. When his eyelids were lifted again, he looked up at the faces one more time; the way the eyes of the couple were staring back at him was disturbing.

Too real.

Grissom stood up again and grabbed his jacket. He needed some fresh air.

She changed the station for the fifteenth time. Sara found it difficult to believe that this had to be a night when every radio station had chosen to play crappy music. She tried it one more time, with minor hopes of a decent melody when she was brutally disappointed yet again. In the end she simply gave up and turned her radio off.

Driving in silence, Sara watched the endlessly lonely road ahead of her. Two cars had passed her earlier but that had been the busiest moment in the entire hour she had spent on the road. She should simply head back to her apartment. She certainly didn't fancy going anywhere alone for tonight. Her fingers touched her forehead, rubbing it slightly. She groaned, hoping that a headache would not be arrogant enough to appear now. Sara could feel the tiny currents of pain pulsating inside. She breathed out heavily and gripped the steering wheel tighter.

Then something caught her attention ahead. Lowering the speed of her car, she noticed a familiar vehicle parked at the right side of the road. She narrowed her eyes to have a better look at the licensee plate. "Hmm…" She slowly changed direction, and then parked the car next to the newly spotted one.

Stepping outside, she tried to look inside but found no one there. She looked at her watch. His shift must have ended by now…. Her gaze turned to her right where she imagined where he could have gone. She turned around and took out a small object from her bag on the back seat.

Locking the door of her car, Sara turned on her flashlight and pointed it down at the dusty ground. Her lip stretched to a smile. Footprints. As if examining a crime scene, she started walking slowly ahead, following the trail made by another human being.

After five minutes of walking, she noticed a faint source of light up ahead. Another flashlight resting on a familiar tree trunk; next to it was a person sitting down, their back turned to Sara.

"Wow, didn't expect to find you here at this hour," she said out loud and smiled again.

Quickly turning around, obviously taken by surprise by her arrival, Grissom eyed the visitor and reluctantly smiled back. "Sara," he said. "I'm thinking the same thing about you right about now," he added as she circled the tree to stand next to where his flashlight had been placed.

She couldn't help it. After the depressing hour of her drive, this new sight was like a ray of sunshine to her. Sara grinned. "Do you mind some company?" she asked.

"Please," he said and removed his flashlight, before gesturing for her to sit down.

She saw a longer and softer smile on his face now. He appeared genuinely pleased to see her. "Coincidently, I saw your car," Sara told him.

"In the dark. I'm impressed." He faked his amazement so badly that it made Sara chuckle.

"How come you're out here so late?" She then asked.

Grissom looked ahead. "They make good company," he said and nodded toward the mound.

Sara joined him in his watch. "Mm… yeah, they do."

Grissom perched his lips. "So…" he started. "How did your date go?"

"Oh, uh, it could've been better."

Somehow, he was glad to hear that. "Sorry, to hear that," he said calmly.

Sara allowed the silence to fill the atmosphere for a while before she spoke. "You're still curious about who I was with, aren't you…" she said without looking at him.

Grissom smirked. She had been right, but he was not going to admit it to her. "Your mystery man is your business."

"It was a woman actually," she replied.

This turned his head. "Excuse me?"

She looked back at him, finding his astonished expression priceless. "Well, you come to that point in your life when you…" She paused and grinned. He looked like she had turned into a ghost. "I haven't switched preferences, Griss," she chuckled. "I went out… by myself…"

"Oh…" His expression slowly showed a sign of relief.

"I had you for a while there though, didn't I?" she teased him.

Grissom shrugged. "It is the awful habit of jumping to conclusions that even I share at times," he replied. "Where? If I may ask?"

"The place you lured me to after Charlie's party."

He appeared satisfied by her choice. "How come?"

"Far from the city, quiet… but then a couple decided to get busy and…. That kind of ruined it for me."

Grissom smirked. "Yeah, that tends to be a favorite breeding place."

She glared at him. "You failed to mention that before."

"I didn't think you'd go back there," he excused himself.

She huffed. "Thoughtful."

He placed the flashlight on the other side next to him. "My mother says hello by the way."

"Thank you." She smiled gently. "How is she?" she asked, her voice being soft.

"As optimistic as always."

"Ah, good to know. Something I wish to often be."

Grissom glanced at her. "She also made this interesting painting."

"Of?"

"Well, I thought you'd see and judge for yourself."

"Abstract?"

"Sort of. She seems quite fond of you," he admitted.

Sara looked down. "She's a sweet lady."

Grissom smiled to this.

"So, is that where you got your knowledge about art from?" she asked.

"She was an influence."

"Too bad you didn't take up painting like her." She looked at him.

"I tried it. The results were dreadful."

Sara chuckled. "I wouldn't mind a demonstration some day."

"Even if the final result is scarring you for life?"

"I'm quite strong." She nodded.

He studied her face curiously, secretly unrevealing layers with his eyes. "You truly are…" he whispered.

She watched the way his eyes were caressing her face. It had been a look she had experienced not long ago. Sara swallowed. The blueness deepened, the pupils darkened; each change cutting the string of comfort she was feeling only a second ago.

The distance between them wasn't big; he could see her face and especially her dark eyes so clearly, so intensely. The artificial light of her flashlight revealed her skin brightly enough for him, leaving nothing for him to imagine about her. He did not want to imagine anything. Grissom liked her this way… exposed with every crack and bruise. Her warm brown eyes, the way they stared back at him, were a sufficient bait to lure him a few inches away from that safe shell. In the beginning he shivered unnoticeably. It was new… cold at first, but her stare wrapped him in a soft, warm blanket… It felt better now.

The last string snapped. She felt uncomfortable now. Sara stood up slowly and then leaped over the tree trunk. "It was a long night…" She made an excuse and took a couple of steps away her spot.

But he took her hand, stopping her. She looked over at him. "Stay," she heard him say, his voice fragile enough to break. His eyes weren't on her… but on her hand. He had her wrist. Gently he pulled her closer to him. Still sitting down, Grissom placed his fingers on her palm and began caressing it slowly… very slowly; his skin touching hers so delicately; those same fingers that could caress the wings of a butterfly and leave no trace, no damage. A silent sigh escaped her as the touch sent rushes through her body. They were delicate, exploring… loving touches.

Half of his life had already been empty. He did not wish for the other half to suffer the same lonely fate.

He looked up at her, wondering, worrying even, if his action had been disturbing for her. She showed no such signs to him. His caress stopped. His hands covered hers. It was a soft skin; despite the traumas, the grueling work, those hands of hers managed to remain soft, delicate… beautiful. Like her. Grissom stood up, not letting go of her hand. He watched her long.

She felt it to be an eternity.

He glanced at her lips. His heart fluttered.

She saw his eyes move. Her heart jumped.

They were alone here. There were no distractions, no work, no one but them. Anything could happen or noting at all.

"I can't make any promises, Sara…" he admitted still with that fragile voice.

"I don't think either of us is capable of doing that," she admitted as assurance to both of them.

"You might see things you won't like…"

"Then you're in for the same surprise…."

There were tiny traces of uncertainty in their gazes. Maybe both felt the need to hold back, allowing the other person to make a move forward or backward.

Could he truly be ready? Could she be ready?

Grissom pressed his lips and sighed. He removed his hand.

Sara looked down at it, perhaps she was right. Perhaps he was not as ready as he had thought.

But then she found him standing much closer to her than before. Her lower lip would have surely begun to shiver but she managed to hold it still. His hand, the one that he had removed from hers, had now touched her face. It was a slow, steady touch, beginning with the experimental feel of the fingers, to be certain she would not pull away. She stood there, waiting, anticipating the unknown. The fingers slid forward and her cheek was embraced in his palm.

Her eyes were never removed from his dark blue-colored. Sara wished to read something in them, anything. But damn him, he was an excellent trickster. The only thing she could make out was something warm from them, something unseen before. His thumb caressed her skin twice, making her swallow something in her throat that it wasn't actually there.

Another hand touched her other, left cheek. Her face was in his hands now. She would trust him enough not to break this off and run away.

She would trust him….

His lips opened, she could see that much despite her gaze on his. And then… she could see those eyes no more as darkness fell over them and her lips melted into his.

Grissom took her face and her breath. He took all of her tonight….

All of her….

The morning that replaced the night was mellow; the sun seemed orange, the clouds purple…

His eyes traveled across the empty space of his living room. Nothing appeared different on the inside. Grissom did not expect it to seem different. Outside was a different story.

But he heard a soft sigh; his cheek felt the brushing of her soft hair; his skin felt the warmth of her breath. He looked at her peaceful face on his shoulder. Sara's peaceful face…. Her right arm over his belly, her legs on the remaining space of the couch.

Grissom blinked several times. He wondered why this failed to feel as strange and out of place as he thought it might have.

Her soft moan disconnected that thought. The answer was simple: Sara belonged here.

"… let the other half be faithful to a person that can love you."

She returned to his home, she saw the painting, watching it wordlessly for a long time, stunned by it. And she thought of it as interesting and real. Somehow, she did not notice the rings.

And in the end, after everything, she stayed…. For once, for the first time Grissom felt satisfied to spend the night with a companion in his home. He smiled and kissed the top of her head.

His cheek pressed against the softness of her hair. He could be faithful; they both deserved that.

THE END

Author's note: Thank you to everyone that enjoyed the story enough to leave a review:) I am happy to know that certain chapters made someone's day.

'Till next time!