"Come on. I'll take you home." These are the words I have always wanted to hear, and the person I have always wanted to say them. There's only one thing wrong with this picture: context. I have imagined so many scenarios for him to say this: after a particularly hard case, after dinner, just because he feels like it… never, in my wildest dreams, could I have imagined Grissom offering to take me home because I'm drunk. He grabs my hand and leads me to the car. We drive for a while in an awkward silence. Maybe it's the alcohol, or maybe that's just my excuse. Whatever the reason, I suddenly turn to him. "Do you know how long I've waited to hear you say that to me?"

"Hmm?" Grissom takes his eyes off the road, and turns his head to look at me.

"I've always wanted to hear you offer to take me home. I guess all I had to do was get drunk." I joke, not without some bitterness.

"Sara, if you ever wanted a ride home, all you had to do was ask." Grissom says this with traditional clueless Grissom-ness.

"Not my house. Yours. Grissom, do you know how long I've been in love with you?" I look directly at him, pretending that I'm not afraid.

"Sara, we've been over this. It would be inappropriate for me to have a relationship with one of my CSIs." He turns back to the road.

"I know. You'd think I'd stop asking after the fourth time you broke my heart. Or maybe it was the fifth." I stare out the window as I say this, so he can't see the tears ready to fall from my eyes. But my voice cracks, giving me away.

"But you know what else? You'd think that after I let you break my heart, you'd stop trying to convince yourself that it's just a schoolgirl crush." I'm starting to get angry.

"You keep me coming back. You told me that I was beautiful. You were the one who said that. You were the one who gave me the plant. Why all the mixed messages?"

Grissom sighs. It's obvious that this is hard for him, but I'm not giving up. "That was a question, Griss." He flinches at the nickname, a first for him.

"Do I scare you?" It's obvious that he doesn't expect this question.

"You intoxicate me. If I don't push you away, I'll get drunk on-˝ he stops, obviously thinking I'm offended. But I'm not.

"Why don't you come to my place?" This is said softly, but I can still hear the emotion in his voice. I smile, and nod.

"I didn't know dreams could come true."