Disclaimer: All right everyone, sing along… "I don't own CSI, its characters, or anything associated with the show. CSI: Crime Scene Investigation is the sole property of CBS and Alliance Atlantis." This document was written purely based on the fact that my muse will not stop nagging me. For the entertainment of you folks only.

Spoiler: Unbearable (it's just ew… okay?)

A/N: I just wanted to share with you that I truly enjoy writing from Grissom's point of view. His thoughts just come very easily to me. And to let you know, it's Chapter 12 already and this story still has a ways to go. So if y'all continue reading, and reviewing, I'll continue writing.

Grissom hadn't slept well in weeks. His clever idea to use Sophia as an ally had backfired tremendously. I just don't do well with people.

Sophia had assumed that Grissom was asking her out on a date… a romantic date. That was not his intent at all. And at their "dinner", when he tried to be sly and ask her about Ecklie, and her resignation, she had taken his hand and began rubbing her thumb against the inside of his palm.

"Well, I might consider hanging around a little longer, if I had good reason…" Sophia purred, leaning towards him.

Grissom, true to character, stared dumbly at her in complete shock, and it was a good five seconds before he gently removed her hand from his own.

"Uh… I… think you misunderstand…" Grissom stammered.

"Excuse me?" Sophia's sex-kitten voice took on a much less attractive adult-cat screech.

"I hadn't intended for this… to be like that. I just wanted to talk."

Sophia had then played the drama queen card, throwing her drink directly into his face. While he had wiped himself off, sputtering, she had left the restaurant. The remaining patrons looked at him like he was a monster, and Grissom had almost died of embarrassment.

The two weeks until Sophia left were awful. She knew word had gotten out about their dinner, and when she spoke to him, she acted as if they were involved. Using words like "honey" and "dear". She did it deliberately to make Grissom uncomfortable. Grissom said nothing, utterly humiliated by the whole ordeal. He was very relieved when Sophia was finally gone.

And Sara. In his eagerness to form a new alliance, he had alienated her. He didn't even leave her a note. He had just disappeared that night, and he knew the next day that she had found out about the dinner.

He didn't blame her for being upset, it was callous and disrespectful to forget her, and he was extremely sorry. He tried numerous times to approach her, talk to her, call her, apologize, but she wouldn't acknowledge him.

Eventually he gave up and resigned himself to returning to his hermit-like ways.

Yet, returning to his idea of normalcy was proving very difficult to do. Memories of a night many weeks ago, with Sara in his arms, and his whole body aflame with desire, had continued to haunt him, particularly in his dreams. He was not used to dealing with such… tension in himself.

I am not a young teenager with raging hormones! This is ridiculous. What is wrong with me?

He began sleeping less, staying awake purely to exhaust himself, so that when he slept, he would not dream. But sometimes, the demons broke through, and taunted him with twisted images of Sara. Sexual thoughts combined with Ecklie's premonition of a "loose cannon" intermingled, leaving him frightened and aroused at the same time.

The current theme of late was that Sara would come to him willingly, in various scenarios, and then proceed to draw her gun and shoot him dead between the eyes. He had a clear after-image of looking directly down the barrel of her gun each time his system shocked him awake.

I need to talk with her. This is getting out of hand.

But as each night passed, he never could get up enough nerve to corner her and speak with her about what had happened. And as the days passed, he grew more and more distraught.

Tonight he had seen the look in her eyes when she had asked about Warrick's vic. He knew she was up to something, but had no idea what.

He didn't want Sara near that woman. Her injuries weren't the worst, but they weren't pretty either. He felt it was best if she was kept a safe distance away from the abuse cases.

He decided to give her the benefit of the doubt, until he saw Greg wandering over to talk with Mia. Damn her.

He knew Sara had gone to see that woman, and his hunch proved true when he saw her standing there, crying over the woman's lifeless body.

"Sara. I will see you in my office. NOW."

He turned and walked briskly to his office. Sara arrived shortly afterwards. He didn't bother to tell her to close the door, so she didn't. He would regret this later.

"Sara, I specifically told you that the assault case was Warrick's."

"I know, but…" Sara's voice was hyper. He could clearly see she was excited about something.

"What ever possessed you to go in there?"

"I wanted to see her. I wanted to see… if I could help her."

"Sara," Grissom's voice was stern as he tried to control his temper. This woman exasperated him. She's trying to help a dead woman?

"You can't help her. She's dead."

Sara's voice was high as she spoke. "Yes, I know. But you see, I didn't know, so that's why I had to go and see, and you're right and now I know!"

Grissom tried to follow her, but clearly, she had lost him.

"What?"

"I can't help her, Grissom. I can't help any of them!"

Sara's voice was growing louder, her gestures more flamboyant, and Grissom's demons began echoing into his head… loose cannon… out of control… He began to grow concerned.

Sara must have noticed his face, and she stopped abruptly and looked at him.

"What?"

"I… was… just wondering if you were okay."

Her demeanor slipped away from flamboyance to one he was much more familiar with, icy defiance.

"You think I'm nuts."

"No… "

"You do." Sara growled. "Typical. Completely typical. On the one day of my life that I actually get a clue, and figure everything out, you have to go and ruin it for me."

Grissom's face said it all, but he vocalized it as well.

"Huh?"

Sara began pacing and gesturing at him.

"Grissom, for years now, I thought I was helping these people. The victims, my victims. But I'm not. I'm not helping them and I can't help them. Don't you see? That's why the cases bother me. I want to help them, and I can't!"

Grissom stared at her, unsure of what to say.

Sara misread his silence.

"You know, I don't know why I'm even telling you this. It isn't like you care. You've made that quite clear." Her tone grew icier with each word.

Grissom snapped out of his trance, his frustration about his inability to communicate with her on this very issue coming to the forefront.

"You never gave me a chance to explain!"

"Explain what?"

Grissom didn't respond. How do I tell her that it was all a huge misunderstanding?

Sara wasn't patient, and before Grissom could even begin to formulate words, her voice broke the silence.

"Ex-actly. You will never change, Grissom. And I'm done even thinking about you anymore. Do you hear me? Done. Game Over."

Grissom met her eyes and she had never looked more distant to him than she did now. It's ended. I can never have her.

He looked away, afraid that she would see the emotion welling up in his eyes.

When he looked up again, she was gone.

In her place stood Conrad Ecklie.