Most of the characters and situations in this story belong to Alliance Atlantis, CBS, Anthony Zuicker and other entities, and I do not have permission to borrow them; most of the others are mine, and if you want to borrow them, you have to ask me first. No infringement is intended in any way, and this story is not for profit. Any errors are mine, all mine, no you can't have any.

Spoilers: through "No Humans Involved".

Note: The slight similarities to recent dialogue are making me a little uneasy, except that I wrote 'em all before the episodes aired. So I refuse to fuss.

Also: edited to fix the formatting. Please do not believe I was so careless as to leave out those punctuation marks. I was just careless enough not to double-check that the chapter uploaded correctly.

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Grissom went to work, partly because he couldn't think of what else to do, but mostly because he'd given two weeks' notice and had no intention of backing out of that. He arrived a little early and headed for his office, half-expecting to find the lock changed and Security waiting for him, but all was as he'd left it. Upon reflection, he wasn't sure if Ecklie was just biding his time, or if the man had decided that trying to explain what had happened - particularly given the insinuations he'd made - was not worth the pleasure of firing Grissom.

Besides, who would he torment if I wasn't here?

He still didn't know about Sara, and when for once he read the memos piled on his desk, no information was forthcoming. It was her scheduled night off; she might not be in because of it, or she might be gone for good. Grissom realized bitterly that the only way he'd know was by seeing if she showed up for the next shift.

Fortunately for his concentration, the night was busy; he paired Sofia and Greg to handle a robbery and a rape, and kept for himself the three trick rolls and two muggings. Scut work, but at least it kept him moving and occupied.

But there was still no news when he got back to the lab, nor any kind of message.

Grissom sent his CSIs home at the end of shift and stayed behind, ostensibly to work, but hoping against hope that Sara would get in touch with him, that his words had changed her mind.

But she didn't.

He finally quit waiting after three hours. There was no sense in staying any longer; she obviously wasn't coming. And it behooved him to go home and at least try to get some sleep; what was left of his team didn't deserve the foul temper that would no doubt overtake him by that evening.

Right now, though, he mostly felt numb. There was a roiling, black-acid knot of pain in his gut, and it would break out soon enough, but for the moment he was divorced from it. He went straight home, eschewing breakfast or any errands, even though he dreaded returning to his empty townhouse; he dreaded the moment most of all when he would have to stop moving, and let the pain catch up with him.

But you brought it on yourself. He parked his car, climbed his front steps, and put his key into the lock, wondering with a vague sense of distaste whether he should just drink himself unconscious. There was nothing like a hangover to distract one from...from other things.

But that seemed like cheating, somehow. He'd done what he'd done; it was meet to accept the full measure of pain that it brought.

He locked the door behind him and put his case down on the floor, and only then saw her, curled up awkwardly on the loveseat. Shock held him motionless.

Sara's hands were twisted tightly together. "I...need to talk to you."

Grissom swallowed. "How did you get in?" he asked, surprised at how calm his voice sounded.

She stood up. "I was waiting out front and your neighbor let me in. You really shouldn't leave your spare key with someone so trusting, Grissom."

"She's usually home," he replied, still trying to take in the fact that Sara was there, in his living room. "On the rare occasion that I lock myself out, she has the best odds of being available."

Sara smiled, the brief flash she used when she was nervous. "Ever the scientist." When he didn't say anything, she shifted her weight uncomfortably. "Are you busy? I should have called first, but I was afraid I'd...lose my nerve."

Grissom regarded her for another moment, then raised a brow, trying to hide the tremble in his hands. "I'm not busy, Sara."

He didn't know what to say, what to do. Instinct clamored for him to grab those slender shoulders and fasten his mouth on hers until she had no protests left, but reason scoffed. She'd just punch you and stalk off. She's probably only here to ream you out anyway; might as well let her have her say.

And his conscience chimed in. You owe her that.

He forced himself to move towards the kitchen. "Do you want something to drink?"

"I - sure. Water's fine."

Grissom got down two glasses and filled them with ice cubes, trying to stretch out the moment. He really didn't know why Sara was there, and he had the feeling she was in search of some kind of closure. Which meant -

- Which meant that she'd soon be gone. And that this could the last time he'd see her. So he took his time, running water over the ice, listening to it crackle and snap, before walking back out to the living room with the glasses.

Sara hadn't sat back down; she had her back to him and her arms folded, and was staring out his front window. Grissom wondered wistfully if she was counting the seconds until she could escape. "Here."

She turned, eyes wide and guarded, and took the glass carefully. "Thanks."

They stood there for a moment, bereft of words, until Grissom finally waved back at the couch. "Uh...do you want to..."

"You don't have to quit," she said softly. "If I'm gone, Grissom, the problem's solved."

Grissom stared down at his glass without really seeing it, and then set it on the bookshelf nearby. "I don't want you to go."

"Yeah, I got that. It doesn't make any sense." Sara looked at her own glass, rotating it absently. "We can barely stand to be around each other."

"That's not true." The words were out of his mouth before he could censor them. At her disbelieving look, he amended them. "On my part, anyway."

She sighed. "What do you want?"

For the life of him, he couldn't force his voice to work. The look in Sara's eyes was familiar; impatience and disappointment. She turned away, wandering towards his coffee table to put down her glass. "This was a mistake, wasn't it? I should go."

"No." The word was out of his mouth before he felt it form, fueled by despair, and he took two steps forward to catch her elbow. She straightened with a jerk, pulling her arm from his grip and glaring at him, and once again the anger took him, though he couldn't tell if it was directed at himself, at her, or both.

"You want to know what I want? Fine," he snapped bitterly. "I want what you offered me, Sara, I want a chance. I know it's too late, way too late, but there it is." He spun around, appalled at his loss of control, and pinched the bridge of his nose. A last sentence slipped out, all-or-nothing. "I want you."

Grissom half-expected to hear his front door open and slam shut, but there was no sound for a long while. Finally, he made himself turn.

Sara was standing where he'd left her, one palm pressed against her mouth, and her lashes were wet. Fresh guilt tore at him. "I'm sorry," he said desperately. "Sara -"

She shook her head, and lowered her hand. Her smile was rueful, ironic. "Nothing's ever easy, is it, Griss?"

He licked his lips, out of words again.

"What brought on this change of heart?" she asked, and he could tell she was still angry, even though her voice was soft. "Did my falling down a hill give you some kind of wake-up call?"

He stared at her, taken aback. "No, I - that's when I thought I might have a chance again, until you wouldn't let me see you."

"Oh." The air huffed out of her, half a laugh, half a painful sound.

"I know it's too late," he repeated, not wanting her to think he was pushing for something she couldn't give. She stood haloed by the early sunlight, looking to him like something more than human; he wanted so badly just to touch her, to feel her life against his skin one more time, but instead he curled his hands into fists and turned away again.

"Y'know, up until Ecklie split the team, you could have said that to me and I would have told you that you still had a chance."

He flinched. Sara let out a long breath.

"I was wrong, Grissom" she went on quietly, all the anger gone. "I did exactly the same thing to you that you did to me."

He raised his brows at nothing, and turned back around. "With Sofia, you mean?"

"Yeah." Sara had folded her arms again, and looked...sheepish.

Grissom cocked his head, finding a tiny bit of humor in the midst of everything. "Serves me right, I guess."

Silence filled the space between them, and he felt the amusement fade. "It still doesn't work, does it?" Grissom asked at last, quietly. "I've hurt you too many times."

Sara shrugged, her face closed. "It's not all one-sided."

He uncurled his hands and rubbed his palms on his pants. "But it can't be fixed." The rage was gone, replaced by a heavy sadness.

"You finally get that, do you?" Her sarcasm was too gentle to sting.

Grissom looked away. "I still think you should keep your job," he said carefully, doing his best to steady his voice. "If you play your cards right, Ecklie will have to make you supervisor. If you want the position."

"Mmm." In his peripheral vision, he saw Sara unfold her arms. "From what I can see, it just means more hassle. And paperwork."

"There is that," he agreed. "You do get a bigger office, though."

She laughed, a faint sound of agreement, and put her hand on his arm. "Grissom, what do you do when you can't fix something?"

A memory: glittering fragments of crystal. The sickening sense of horror. His mother's sad look, and her quick gestures telling him that accidents happen.

And the weeks he spent, pulling weeds in the neighbor's vegetable patch, until he could present his mother with five whole dollars in quarters, to replace the vase. The surprise on her face, and the love.

He'd bought her a new one, years later, when he understood how much the original had cost. But it was the cheap glass one she treasured.

He looked down at Sara's hand, a stunned hope sparking inside him, and put his own over it. "Start over..."

Her nod made him look up. "There's too much hurt between us, Griss. I think maybe we should just forget about it. All of it. Go on like it never happened."

It was an absurd proposal. He knew that. The pain would always be there. But he also understood what she meant - that the only way to make it work was to forgive each other everything, and put it all to rest. No reminders, no restitution, no penance.

Just them.

"Right now?" Her eyes were so deep, so open; he barely heard the words pass his lips. She nodded again.

He let out a long breath that seemed to carry all the weight of his anger and sadness with it, and fulfilled the first in a long list of wistful fantasies by lifting his hands to cup her face. Her skin beneath his fingers was only skin, he knew that, but to him it was Sara, the incredulous reality of her after all the loss of hope. "I'm sorry," he whispered, as the distance between them lessened. "Forgive me?"

Her hands were moving around his waist, and a smile was tugging at the corners of her lips. "Only if you forgive me."

"Done," he muttered, and their mouths met.

To Grissom, it was something he could hardly fathom -the sliding softness of Sara's lips and the tangle of her hair around his fingers, and at the same time the stunning knowledge that the whole thing wasn't one of his daydreams, it was real, a moment so full that his heart ached with it - the ache of new growth.

And when that kiss was over, there was another, and another; long sweet touches that soothed the old stings and at the same time pleased the primal part of him, because each one marked her as his even as her scent spread to his skin. Grissom found himself mumbling her name against her lips, making them curve, and when finally air became a necessity, he realized with astounded delight that he could always kiss her again - that there was theoretically no limit to kissing Sara.

A few breaths, a long and mutual dazed look, and then more kisses, deeper, hotter - he had to rein himself in a little, as instinct shouted in triumph from the base of his brain and he felt Sara quiver in his arms. Another fantasy was satisfied at the feel of her fingers on his nape, curling into his hair.

Then they parted again, and she sighed, and leaned her head on his shoulder as though it were too heavy to hold up. Grissom closed his eyes and held her closer. The blade of her shoulder felt delicate under his palm, and still far too prominent, and as she pressed her face into his neck, what he had known in the back of his mind came to the front of it - that however momentous a thing this was for him, it was probably even more so for her. He swallowed, wanting to apologize again, but they'd taken the step forward and he would not break their agreement to leave the hurt behind.

So he just held her. Gradually the tension seeped out of her, and when her arms loosened a little he pulled back enough so that she raised her head. Her eyes were wide and dark and still so vulnerable, and he wanted to promise that he would never hurt her, never let anything hurt her again.

But those were promises that mortals cannot keep. Instead, he just took her hand and led her over to his couch. He sat, and tugged until she sank down next to him and he could hold her again. "Sara," he whispered, and she wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his chest, and he was at peace.

xxxx

Her first thought on waking was It doesn't hurt. Sara had grown used to the aches of torn muscle and half-healed bone, of the strains of compensating for her injuries as they healed. It meant waking stiff and sore, though less and less as time went by.

But now she woke warm, and painless. She opened her eyes to unfamiliar dimness, and something big near her face that was reflecting her breath back at her, and an incredulous small smile touched her lips as she remembered. Grissom.

She'd long since given up believing in miracles, but she seemed to have gotten one, fragile as it was. Sara remembered waiting for Grissom, and arguing, and apologizing, and reaching what seemed to be the end of them...only to find it was actually a beginning. And she remembered the gorgeous delight of kissing him, and the sheer relief of resting in his arms.

She did not, however, remember falling asleep in his bed, and certainly not with him in it as well. They were both fully dressed, lying on top of the comforter, though her shoes seemed to have vanished; the warm weight on her hip was apparently his hand, and the wall in front of her his chest, and she guessed that the firmness under her ear was his arm. Her own hand was curled against his sternum, and she could feel the slow rise and fall of his breathing against the backs of her fingers.

For someone as private as herself, she thought with amusement, and based on past experience, she should have been knotted with the tension of actually sharing a bed with someone else. She never slept well with another person - it made her nervous.

But she wasn't. She was more relaxed than she'd been since before her accident. And that, Sara realized, was a small miracle in itself.

She raised her head, and found Grissom looking down at her, face pensive. A hundred thoughts ran through her mind, ranging from asking how they'd ended up in his bed to the shyness that was lurking just under her surface, but she chose to begin as she meant to go on, and reached up to brush her fingers over his cheek. "Did you sleep at all?" she asked softly.

He smiled a little, tension easing, and caught her hand with his so he could press it to his lips for a brief kiss. "Some, yes." His eyes flicked up past her and back again. "It's only three-thirty."

"Mmm." Sara rolled off his arm and raised her own arms over her head for a careful stretch, taking great and secret pleasure in the sound of his indrawn breath. "So are you going to feed me, or what?"

Grissom laughed, and Sara realized that it had been a very long time since she'd heard that sound. She absorbed the sight of him, unguarded and smiling, his eyes crinkled with humor, and gave into impulse. Rolling back, she laid her palms on either side of his jaw and kissed his smile away.

The sound that rumbled through his chest was one of bliss, and his arms folded carefully over her lower back as he returned the kiss without stint or hesitation.

"You don't know how often I've wanted to do that," she muttered when they pulled apart.

He stroked a strand of hair from her face. "No, I don't. Tell me."

Sara pursed her lips, amused. "I think the first time was when you told that awful joke at dinner after your first lecture at the SFPD. You were way too smug."

Grissom blinked, looking startled. "That long ago?"

She shrugged. "It was just an impulse thing." She took a deep breath, smelling sleep and cotton and Grissom, and was very tempted to - tempt him. But that's moving too fast, I think.

"Food, Grissom," she reiterated, sitting up. "Or at least coffee."

Grissom followed suit, rolling his head around and producing a medley of pops and snaps. "I think I can supply both," he said.

Sara pushed carefully to her feet, now feeling a familiar twinge in her side, but it was less than the day before. She tugged her shirt down and ran her fingers through her hair, wincing as she hit a tangle.

"There's a brush in the bathroom," Grissom said, and she glanced back to see him smoothing the bed with absent precision.

Sara grimaced. "That bad?"

He looked up, and smiled again. "On the contrary. But you look like a woman in search of grooming implements."

She knew she was blushing, and it was ridiculous - she'd had more eloquent compliments from David. But it was the glow in Grissom's eyes that made the difference. "Back in a few," she managed, and retreated to the bathroom.

The master bath was large - and, Sara noted with approval, sparkling clean. A comb, a beard trimmer, and a boar-bristle brush lay scattered on the counter, the only indication of untidiness; a few bottles were lined up on the long counter, and Sara couldn't help taking a closer look. Shaving gel, hair gel, and cologne, and only the hair gel was without a faint film of dust.

Restraining her curiosity, Sara looked at herself in the mirror, and couldn't suppress a blink of surprise. Yes, her hair was rioting out of control; yes, her shirt was wrinkled and her lipstick long gone. But the woman staring back at her was someone she hadn't seen in well over a year.

The Sara in the mirror was happy.

It shocked her a little, and made her think as she worked Grissom's comb through her hair. This is great...okay, total understatement there...but nothing's really settled. She wasn't at all sure if this new, delicate relationship should even change her plans to leave the lab. Grissom, and the discomfort generated by working with him, had been the biggest factor in her decision to leave, but there were other reasons to consider. Ecklie being one of them.

The idea of leaving Grissom, though, now that she finally had a chance, made her feel almost panicky with distress. "Calm down" she muttered to herself, pulling a few strands of her hair from the comb's teeth and dropping them in the trash. You don't have to make any decisions right this minute. And besides, he's resigned too.

Sara washed her face and hands, filled the small plastic cup that stood next to the sink and drank, and squared her shoulders. Relax. This is a good thing. She looked at herself in the mirror one more time, and remembered the feel of Grissom's hands on her face, and his mouth against hers, and the fact that he wanted her. And watched with fascination as a slow smile grew.

The bedroom was empty when she reentered it, but she could smell coffee, and followed the scent back out to the main room. Pausing on the threshold of the hallway, she took a moment to observe Grissom before he realized she was there.

He'd changed his shirt for a fresh one with short sleeves, but his hair was still enticingly rumpled. He reached up into a cupboard to fetch down mugs, and Sara admired the lines of him, unguarded in this domestic moment on his home ground.

Grissom set the mugs on the counter and then leaned his hands on it, bowing his head, and fear erupted in the pit of her stomach. He looked - unhappy. Oh shit. Did I make a mistake? Does he regret this?

But as she forced herself to step forward, his head came up, and as he saw her his face brightened. "Coffee will be ready in a minute," he said. "What are you hungry for?"

You, she wanted to say, and didn't. "Um, I don't know. Scrambled eggs?"

He nodded, and opened the refrigerator. "Sounds good. Or I can make something more like dinner, if you want."

"Grissom."

At the tone of her voice he halted, straightening, though his hand kept the fridge door open. Sara mustered her courage, and went on, finding it a little easier to speak to his listening back than to his face. "If you, um...regret this -"

His knuckles whitened on the handle of the door. "Do you?" he asked flatly, staring at the freezer in front of him.

"Are you kidding?" Sara's eyes widened. "No. I just wanted to...you looked kind of upset."

The fridge door snapped shut, and the next thing she knew, Sara's back was against the edge of the counter and Grissom was in front of her, so close that his hands were braced on either side of her and his breath was mingling with hers. "Don't ever suggest it, Sara," Grissom said, and his voice was low and just slightly desperate. "Please don't ever even think it."

She supposed she should feel trapped, but she didn't. It felt good, to have him right there, right in her personal space. Sara reached up to touch his face-turnabout was fair play, after all. "Why were you upset then"

Grissom pressed gently forward into her touch. "I was afraid," he said, even more quietly. "I am afraid. What if you regret this? What if I can't make you happy?"

She stroked the soft hair of his beard, indulging herself, and smiled at him wistfully. "What if you get fed up with me? What if you really do prefer blondes? We can be afraid together, Grissom."

His laugh was both humor and relief, and he leaned in further to nuzzle the spot below her ear. "The only way I'd prefer blondes is if you dyed your hair," he said, then pulled back, brows going up in alarm. "Please don't."

Sara laughed in turn and laced her fingers behind his neck. "Trust me," she murmured, "it's not really high on my list of priorities."

Grissom sighed, and the rush of air made her skin tingle. "Good," he whispered, and brought their lips together.

It was just as sweet as earlier, Sara noted dimly under the rush of pleasure, but there was also more potential this time, though they were both keeping their touches light. Grissom's mouth was hot and firm, and when he laid a string of kisses along her jawline Sara shivered, caught in the softness of his lips and the prickle of his beard. Her hands tightened on his shoulders, and he came back to her mouth with a tiny, happy sound that made her heart rise.

Eventually they slowed and stopped, sharing slightly dazed smiles. "Food," Grissom repeated, drawing away and reaching for the fridge again.

Somehow the eggs got made. Sara buttered toast and watched Grissom collect plates and silverware, and they sat at the breakfast bar to eat. Sara felt practicality reasserting itself as they shared the jelly jar, but it was Grissom who spoke first.

"So..." And he wasn't looking at her, instead concentrating on his knife and toast. "Where do we go from here?"

Sara stared into her coffee cup, glad he'd brought it up. "Good question."

His jaw shifted, and then he looked up at her, expression carefully blank. "Are you still going to leave Las Vegas?"

"No." The word was without thought, and true, she realized as she spoke it. "I'm...not sure about the lab, though."

Grissom nodded, closing his eyes for a moment, and she could see both disappointment and deep relief in his face.

"You should stay," she added, picking up her fork. "For one thing, you can't leave poor Greg all by himself."

He snickered at the thought, then sobered. "Why...I mean...what are your reasons for leaving?"

Sara thought a minute, trying to assimilate the past several hours. "Mostly just because I was fed up?" she admitted after a moment, "and because between the two of us we were pulling the night shift apart." She pointed warningly at Grissom as he opened his mouth, and gave him a dangerous smile. "Don't say it. Over and done with, remember?"

He subsided, pursing his lips in mingled dismay and amusement, and she went on. "My life...I needed to reevaluate it, and I couldn't do that in that situation. Plus -" She rolled her eyes. "There's Ecklie."

"Conrad." Grissom's voice was dry. "He is something of a problem, isn't he?" He coughed. "Sara, I have to apologize -" and this time his hand went up to halt her. "I owe everyone on the team an apology for letting him do an end run around me. I didn't take him seriously enough."

Sara swallowed a bite of egg and shrugged. "He's an ass-kisser, you're not. The shift change isn't entirely a bad thing, either, it got Catherine what she wanted." She grinned a little. "Mostly."

Grissom chuckled. "I have the distinct feeling that Conrad bit off more than he can chew with her." He took a sip of coffee. "What exactly did he say to you?"

She wrinkled her nose. "He assumed that I was quitting so that you and I could be together, and then told me you were quitting, except he'd thought it was so you could be with Sofia." She winced.

"And since you knew very well that I wasn't quitting to be with you -" Grissom said guiltily, and Sara smiled ruefully.

"Bet he'd be delighted to know how much he screwed us up."

Instead of agreeing with her, Grissom looked thoughtful. "I'm not sure. It's me he dislikes, Sara. He's probably terrified of losing you - with visions of lower solve rates dancing before his eyes."

"The good of the lab," Sara quoted with some disgust. "He should be scared of losing you, too."

"Oh, he is." Grissom leaned back in his seat, cradling his mug in one hand. "Otherwise he would have fired me by now for yesterday."

Yesterday? Sara regarded him with a touch of suspicion. "Oh? What happened yesterday?"

Grissom blinked, and she saw a tinge of pink darken his cheeks. "Nothing, really."

"Uh-huh." He wasn't meeting her eyes. "Give."

His mouth twisted, and he shrugged. "I ran into him in the supermarket, and he said some things I didn't like."

"And?" Sara prompted, curious and amused.

Grissom sighed. "I kind of pushed him into the cereal shelf." His glance was apologetic. "He was really pissing me off."

She couldn't help it - she started laughing. "No way!"

"I'm afraid so." The pink had darkened, but he was grinning too. "Not the wisest thing to do to one's supervisor, in retrospect, but at the time..."

Sara leaned over and gave his hand a quick squeeze. "Good for you. I'll bet he deserved it."

Grissom shrugged, turning his hand to link his fingers with hers. "I'll apologize next time I see him, if I decide to stay."

Sara let him go and sat back. "You should stay," she repeated seriously. "You were right when you said it was your life, Grissom. It's what you do."

He sighed again. "I don't really want to leave," he admitted. "But I'd hate to see you give it up, Sara. You're an outstanding CSI."

"Hmm." Sara set down her napkin and stood up. "Excuse me," she said, and waved vaguely back at the hallway. Grissom nodded, and she headed for the bathroom - both to use the facilities, and for a chance to think.

She hadn't been exaggerating when she'd told Grissom that her life needed reevaluating. But the change in their relationship, assuming it held - and I am damn well going to make sure that it does - would definitely alter the dynamics at work. The tension between them - her most pressing reason to leave the lab - was relieved.

I need to think about my life, yes. But wouldn't it make more sense to do it while gainfully employed?

The truth was, it had torn her heart to think about leaving her friends behind, even though it would have been the best thing at the time. If she could stay with them - Nick, and Greg, and Warrick and David and Catherine...she was even inclined at the moment to look kindly on Sofia.

And Atwater was already hoping that she would change her mind and stay. It dawned on Sara that she had...leverage.

We can even dodge the fraternization issue, she realized. Ecklie had said as much, and while she hated admitting that he was right, it was true that a not inconsiderable amount of power was sitting in her hands and Grissom's.

She washed those hands, noting that this time the woman in the mirror looked like someone with a secret.

A delightful, dangerous one.

When she returned to the main room, Grissom looked up, his smile going curious at the look on her face. "I have an idea," she said, and grinned.

His brows went up.

See Chapter 9