Dedication: For ScullyasTrinity again. Barenaked Ladies reference below is all for you, Girl, because you are without a doubt, the biggest BNL fan on this planet. By the way, I love "Stunt!"

Thenext few dayspassed far too quickly for Grissom and Sara. They swam in the pool, went snorkeling in the bay, went to the beach and built a sand castle, tried their hand at boogieboarding on the Gulf coast waves, and had their romantic day at Crab Island, which Sara loved.

Grissom stocked the cooler on the boat with beer, bottled water, soft drinks, and the bottle of Dom Perignon that they had been too distracted to consume at the Venetian. He packed another cooler full of food so that they could stay out all day. They motored out to the center of the bay and threw out the anchor in a whopping two feet of water. It was a perfect day on the Emerald Coast, and Crab Island was crowded, but not packed. The party barge was set up a couple of hundred yards away, lest anyone run low on supplies. Grissom and Sara swam, splashed, evaded the jellyfish that seemed to be out in particularly large numbers that day, and lay in the sun listening to Jimmy Buffett on the CD player. Sara took an excessive amount of pictures, and Grissom smiled without complaint. They discussed their living arrangements, and who was getting rid of what furniture.

Late in the afternoon, as the sun was getting low in the sky, Sara lay on her belly on the bow of the boat. She was inspecting her cuticles when she nonchalantly asked a most unexpected question.

"You remember the other night at Curve, when I told you about how I dreamed of what our children would look like?" At this, Grissom nodded. "Well, you brought the subject up as to demonstrate your concerns about our age difference, and you asked me if it was my desire to have children, but you never indicated whether or not you ever planned on being a parent. So I want to ask you the same question: Is it your desire to be a father?"

Grissom reached over, opened the cooler, pulled out another Corona, and slipped a wedge of lime through the neck of the bottle before he answered. Leaning back in his chair, he looked down at her and sighed. "Sara…I've often thought of parenthood in my adult life, but more often than not, I've been overwhelmed by the thought of what a horrible parent I would probably be. I mean, look at me. I'm emotionally stunted, closed off, and completely antisocial. On top of that, of all the women I've ever dated, there's never been one that I would have even remotely considered as a candidate for marriage and children. There have been a couple of women that have intrigued me in an amazing way—" Sara closed her eyes against the thinly-veiled reference to Lady Heather "—but none that struck me as the long-term type." Sara's heart sank. "So about the time I hit 38, I just gave up. I figured it wasn't in the cards for me. Mankind would be better served if Gil Grissom never became a father, and it fit right in with my closed off mentality, so I just accepted it." He looked at Sara's dejected face. "Then I met you."

Sara's head snapped up.

"You took my breath away from the first moment I saw you at Berkeley. I'll never forget it." His eyes grew hazy. "I was standing in the front of the lecture hall, preparing my notes, and you came walking in and plopped down in the front row. You were the first student in the lecture hall that day, and there you were, front and center. When I looked up at you, you flashed me that brilliant smile of yours and I admit it, I was enchanted. It was on a purely physical level, though. Then class started and you blew me away with your intellect. You were attentive, interested, and your thirst for knowledge was insatiable. You asked all the right questions, and you weren't afraid to challenge me. By the end of the first day, I was essentially teaching as though it was only you and me in the room. I was transfixed by everything about you—your beauty, your brilliance, your grace. My ten-year struggle was born that day. After class, all I could think about was seeing you again, and then we became friends. For the first couple of weeks, I was able to keep my feelings at bay. But then as our friendship became deeper and we began spending more time together, I would find myself getting…distracted when we were together. I would stare at your lips while you were talking, daydreaming about what they would feel like on mine. I don't know if you remember this, but one time we were out walking and it started pouring. The first thing I noticed was the way your wet hair clung to your face, and I couldn't help wondering what you looked like in the shower…then I looked down and realized you were wearing a white tank top. God, I had to get out of there in a hurry."

Sara smiled. "I do remember that. When I saw you glance down at my shirt, it was the first time I allowed myself to hope that the feeling might be mutual."

Grissom continued, "Then one day, I had this…this epiphany," he shrugged. "I don't know if that word is accurate or not. All I know is that it was about halfway through the seminar, and we were at the Fourth of July celebration at the marina. It was dark, and the fireworks had just started, so we sat down in the grass to watch. I remember looking at the spectacular view—the San Francisco skyline and bridges were in the background, and the fireworks were lighting everything up over the water. Then I looked over at you, and you were sitting there, transfixed. The fireworks were lighting up your face and I remember thinking in that moment that although the view over the water was spectacular, it was nothing compared to the view right next to me. That was when I knew."

Sara was watching him, enthralled. "Knew what?" she whispered, so quietly he barely heard her.

"That you were the most terrifying woman I had ever met."

Her eyes grew large in response to his statement, but he continued without noticing. He was still back in 1994.

"It sounds ridiculous—a 38 year-old man being terrified of a 23 year-old woman, but I was. I tried to deny it to myself, but for the first time in my life, someone else was able to wield power over me. You held my heart in your delicate little hands, and you didn't even know it." He shrugged. "I think that's when I started running from you. But soon, when I would let my guard down, I would start dreaming of a life with you—a happy, content life with beautiful little children. And that scared me for several reasons. First, I thought that at 23, you deserved better than a life with a guy who was pushing 40. Then there were the ethical ramifications. My later supervisor-employee reasoning was iffy, but there's no mistaking that at that point—during that summer—there would have been serious ethical consequences to getting involved with you, since you were a student. And the last reason was that I was just a coward—flat-out. I had a routine in place, I had made up my mind that it was my lot in life to be alone, and suddenly changing that would have just been too much."

He downed the rest of his Corona before he continued.

"But although we went our separate ways at the end of the summer, I couldn't bring myself to cut off all contact with you. Above all, you really were a dear friend. But in my quietest moments, when I allowed my mind to wander to thoughts of the children I was sure I would never have, there was always one constant picture in my mind—you. I always saw you smiling at me, one hand covering your pregnant belly as you carried my child.

"And then one day, a couple of months before I asked you to come to Las Vegas, I walked into Greg's lab to get some results from him. He wasn't there, but he had left a CD playing. The song seemed a little tame compared to what Greg usually listens to, and I was immediately captivated by it. It was called "When You Dream" by the Barenaked Ladies, and it was about a father looking down at his newborn son as he sleeps. The father is wondering what his son dreams about." Grissom paused, deciding how to continue. He shrugged, finding it difficult to put his thoughts into words. "The song, I don't know, it just wrapped itself around my heart, and I just stood there listening to it like a statue. By the time it was over, I had to practically run to make it back to my office before the tears started. I realized that the things in that song were totally out of my reach, and for the first time in my life, I understood regret.

"And then I had the opportunity to bring you back into my life. I thought that I might finally be able to take the risk, but then something happened that put all that on hold."

He grabbed another Corona and another lime, and knocked back half of the bottle before he continued.

"It started slowly, but it really all came to a head the day the lab exploded."

Sara winced at the mention of that god-forsaken day. She wanted to forget that it had ever happened.

"You were hurt, and it scared me to death. Then you came and asked me to dinner, and I would have said yes, but the thing is, of any possible day in my entire life to ask me, you could not possibly have chosen a worse one. See, I had just—"

"Made the decision to have surgery," she interjected. Grissom stared her down in shock.

"For God's sake, Grissom, I'm an investigator. Did you think we wouldn't figure it out?"

Grissom was white. "D-does the whole team know?"

Sara shook her head and shrugged. "If they do, it hasn't been discussed. I had my suspicions, and when you disappeared, I cornered Catherine about it." Sara gave a humorless grin. "She's a strong woman, but when Sara Sidle decides to get a piece of information, you might as well give it up. Catherine was smart enough to know that." She hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to say what she really wanted to. She finally decided that she might as well. In a low voice, she said, "What really hurt was that you felt that Catherine was good enough to talk to, but you didn't come to me about it."

Grissom winced at the accusation. "Sara, it wasn't that. It's just that Catherine was going to be taking over for a week, so I thought she needed to know where I was."

"Bullshit," Sara said. "I'm sure that was part of it, but the bottom line is that you and Catherine have been friends for years, and you would have told her anyway. You know you would have."

Sara had called his bluff, and Grissom didn't insult her intelligence by arguing. He hung his head in defeat and decided to lay his cards on the table.

"You want to know why I didn't tell you, Sara? I didn't tell you because I didn't want you having one more reminder of how much older I am! Finally, after all that time, I had almost talked myself into letting go and giving us a chance. Then my hearing starts to go. I felt like Fate was stepping in and giving me a heads up that I was too old for you."

Sara shook her head in disbelief. "That makes no sense, Grissom. Otosclerosis is hereditary and can show up at any point in a person's life."

Grissom looked at her sadly, "Which brings me to my next point. If we have children, they could inherit it."

Sara considered. "Dominant or recessive?"

"Dominant with variable penetrance."

Sara brightened. "That's not so bad, Griss. So if we have a child, they have a 50-50 chance of inheriting the gene, but even if they do inherit it, the symptoms could be extremely mild—even non-existent."

Grissom gave her a reluctant smile. "So the short answer to your question is yes, I have always wanted to be a parent, but I figured it wasn't meant to be—for various reasons. So I gave up. And now you're here." He reached down and stroked her hair.

He shrugged his shoulders at all that he had just said and asked her, "So what do you think?"

"I think I should feed you Corona more often."