A/N: Here's another chap. I know it took forever to get here but I promise, the next one shouldn't take so long. Again, I remind you, this is an AU. Sara is not the same Sara we know and love so I apologize if you don't like how OOC this is. AU, don't forget.

Sara sat at the bar, her long nails tapping her glass nervously. She had arrived a few minutes early in the interest of not being late, but she knew that Gil was punctual; he was always right on time. She glanced at her watch. Ten minutes more before he was supposed to meet her so she ordered another drink and waited.

"You look beautiful."

Gil's voice startled her and Sara turned slightly on her stool to face him. He was clean shaven, sporting a blue button down shirt under a dark grey sportscoat. God, she loved the way he looked in blue jeans.

"You don't look so bad yourself," she said, flashing him a smile as she stood and made her way toward him, "I'm sorry about the other day, I shouldn't have-"

"No, you had every right, Sara," he said, holding up a hand to silence her, "I'm just glad you agreed to meet me."

They faced each other silently for a moment, suddenly unable to take their eyes off of one another. Sara ran her palms down the front of her dress, feeling the heat rising in her cheeks. She glanced down quickly, trying to look anywhere but in his eyes. She studied her dress. It was satin, cool and smooth against the bare skin of her legs. The hemline fell just below her knees and she had bought it on an impulse that morning because she had been taken with the flirty flare of it.

"Shall we?"

Sara's head jerked up at the sudden sound of his voice beside her. She looked up and he held his arm out to her. She hesitated for a split second before linking her arm with his and allowing him to lead her to their table.

Sara laughed again.

"I missed this, Gil," she said lightly, "I missed being able to laugh like this. Sam and I-"

She stopped and dropped her eyes to her plate. Grissom reached over and rested his hand on top of hers, squeezing it lightly. She looked up and gave him a faint smile.

"With both of us working all of the time, it's hard for us to find time to just sit and talk and catch up…"

"How is work?" Gil asked, knowing that she wouldn't want him asking about her husband.

Sara shrugged, "I would like to be in a lab setting again, but classes at the college start on the twenty ninth, so I'll just be happy to be able to get out of the house for more than a couple hours at a time. It's hard to be there alone right now."

"I would think it was hard to be alone period, no matter neither the time nor the place," Gil said, looking down at his own meal.

Sara smiled lightly, "I'm sorry. I have no right to complain."

"I'm not complaining, Sara," he said shrugging, "I've had my chance to change the way I live and, I've let a few things pass me by, but I don't mind it. I made my decision."

Sara didn't speak for a moment as she stared off over Gil's shoulder. She felt tears brimming in her eyes and she blinked them back.

"Sam hit me, Gil," she said quite suddenly, not sure why the words had formed. She caught his gaze and the intensity in his eyes was enough to make her shudder. "It was only once, just before I left to come here… that's why he stayed behind in San Francisco, and I needed a break. He's apologized a hundred times and we've worked everything out."

"Sara-"

"Please, Gil, no lectures. I told you the truth, that's what you wanted," she said firmly, "Let me handle my life, please. Everything is fine, I promise."

Neither of them spoke for a long time. Sara pushed the remains of her meal around on her plate and Gil swirled the red wine in his glass. The house band was playing something soft and classical that Sara recognized as piece by Bach. The sound caused her mind to wander to a time when the tension between them was allowed.

She had been his student, young and eager, ready to learn everything that she could. She had once read an article about him. He was quoted as saying, "In order to understand forensics, you must know everything else first."

So there she was, a sophomore at Harvard, sitting in an auditorium with a hundred other students waiting to here Dr. Gil Grissom present on the topic of Forensic Entomology. He walked on stage and Sara was immediately taken with him. He couldn't have been more than fifteen years older than her, if that. His hair was a mess of brown curls and he was sporting a thin beard. It made him look older, Sara thought. She liked the beard. She immediately started wondering what it would be like to have her fingers in his hair, have his beard rubbing her skin as he kissed her.

It didn't take much for her to talk to him, she was honestly interested in his line of work. So they became friends slowly, meeting for coffee off campus sometimes, other times meeting in his office so he could show her an experiment he was working on. Eventually, they stopped talking about his work and her classes and their relationship was so much more personal than that. They started discussing everything. Life, death, faith. Nothing was left out.

Two months down the road, they had become closer. Spending a lot of time alone, holding hands when they walked. He'd even started kissing her goodnight. She loved his kisses. She waited patiently for them at the end of each night. But she started wanting more.

"Sara?"

Her head shot up again and she knew that her cheeks were burning red.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, "Lost in thought."

Gil smiled at her, "What were you thinking about?"

"Boston," Sara said simply.

His smile changed slightly and Sara noticed the flare of color in his eyes. He knew exactly what she'd been thinking about.

"Gil-"

"Sara-"

"I think we should go," Sara said quickly.

Gil nodded his agreement, dropping a bill on the table before standing up and reaching his hand out to her. She took it, locking eyes with him, and trembling at the hunger there. This shouldn't be happening, Sara thought, even as she allowed him to pin her to the side of his car and kiss her breathless.

"I love you, Sara," Gil panted, moving his warm mouth down the side of her throat.

She couldn't even think clearly enough to form words. His mouth continued its assault on her skin and she was struggling to keep breathing. Her hands found his hair, that familiar feeling she had longed for years ago, and dove in, pulling his mouth tighter to her throat.

"We're outside," Sara breathed suddenly, watching a couple walk into the restaurant they'd just exited.

Gil slowed his ministrations but he did not stop. He fumbled for a moment with his car keys, moving Sara aside to yank open the passenger door, only to shove her inside quickly. She watched him move around the front of the car and she could see the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he went. He climbed in beside her, not looking at her as he turned over the ignition and pulled quickly away from the restaurant.

They pulled up in front of Gil's townhouse without speaking a word to each other. He parked the car but neither of them moved for the door.

"Sara…"

She shook her head and reached for her door. He followed her lead, meeting her at the steps to his front door and they walked up together. He opened the door and let her enter the house first. She slipped off her shoes, moving slowly around on the cold concrete floor. It felt wonderful under the pads of her feet. She examined each of the display cases adorning the otherwise bare walls of his living room, smiling in appreciation at the specimen encased there.

Gil's arms slipped around her waste and she leaned back into him. His mouth moved back to her throat and she sighed happily.

"Are you sure about this, Sara?" he mumbled against her skin.

She considered what it was that she was asking. Was she sure that she wanted to make love with him? Did she want to cheat on her husband? Did she know what she was doing?

"Yes."

Early morning light poured in through the partially pulled drapes and Gil watched the way it dappled his bed partner's bare skin. She lay on her stomach beside him, her face buried in one of his pillows, her hair fanned out around her. She was sleeping soundly and he had been awake for the last hour or more, simply watching her in wonder.

It had been a long time since Gil had shared his bed with a woman. He hadn't been able to find anyone who suited him. None of the women he met at the lab interested him. They weren't smart enough. They weren't witty enough. They weren't pretty enough. They weren't her. Sara was the one he had wanted, since their first time together, he knew that she was the only woman he would ever want again. Sara Sidle, young, beautiful, brilliant, woman that she was, had stolen his heart the moment he'd laid his eyes on her in that auditorium.

But he had made the painful decision to let her go.

Someone had once told him that, the only way to know that you are loved wholly by a woman was to let her go. If she came back to you, she was yours. If not, it wasn't meant to be. Having her in his bed again, he knew, she was his.

He had let her go that day in Boston when she had told him she needed more. He had given up the one woman he wanted more than anything, in order to make sure that she really, truly loved him.

She's married, Gil, he scolded himself, Sara may be in your bed, but she belongs to Sam Turner. That's what the marriage license says, anyway.

He lay on his side facing her, head propped up in one hand, while the other skimmed down her bare back. He ran his thumb over each and every knob of her beautifully long, curvy spine until it came into contact with the bed sheet that was pulled half way up her back. He pushed the sheet down a little, wanting to look at her completely, but froze at the markings he came in contact with.

Bruises. They were all over her lower back, a long line of them, as though she had been leaning against a counter for hours. Either that or someone had slammed her into it. He lowered the sheet more, finding more bruises on her butt in the shape of a hand. He laid his own hand there, realizing that the prints on her skin were definitely male and he hadn't laid a hand on her ass.

Gil pulled his hand away from her as though he had been burned. He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, trying to decide what line of action he should take. His first instinct was to drive to San Francisco, track down her husband, and kill the son of a bitch. But he took a deep breath and blew it out harshly. He couldn't do that. It was the last thing that Sara would want him to do, not that she would even really know what was good for her if it hit her in the face.

He sat up then, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, and making a quick scan of the floor for a pair of pants. Finding the pair of jeans he'd worn to dinner, he pulled them on and made his way across the room, hesitating at the door.

He took in the sight of the woman in his bed, wishing with all that he was that he could take her away and protect her from Sam Turner forever. He turned and left the room.

"Jim, its Gil. I need a favor."

Gil was pacing in his living room, his cell phone pressed tightly to his ear. He hadn't meant to call Captain Jim Brass, but he had no where else to turn. Jim was his closest friend and would lead him in the right direction.

"This is a huge favor, Jim. And I need you to keep it to yourself."

"Of course, Gil," Jim replied, "What's up?"

"I need you to run a background check for me," Gil told him, "I need the medical records for Sara J. Sidle. It's possible that it will be listed under Sara J. Turner, but I need both sets of records."

"Wait," Jim said quickly, "Sara? Your Sara?"

"Yes, Jim, the same one," Gil said tersely, "Just get the records and call me back. I'm going to see what I can find on her husband."

"Gil, what's going on?" Jim asked before Grissom could hang up on him.

"I'll explain later," he snapped, "Just get the files."

Gil snapped the phone shut and pocketed it. He was still pacing the length of his living room but he had slowed slightly and his breathing was evening out. He glanced absently down the hall toward his bedroom door. Sara was still lying there, sound asleep, behind the closed door, safe for the moment. Images of her marred skin flashed in the back of his mind and his hands fisted and unfisted. She had been beaten. She was a victim. He had to help her.

He moved quickly to his desk and sat down. He pulled up multiple databases and began searching for any criminal record that Sam Turner might have.

Sara padded her way down the hall, pulling Gil's shirt tighter around her. She'd woken up naked and alone. Her first reaction had been to call out to him but instead she'd found his discarded shirt from the night before and gone in search of him.

When she came into the living room, his back was to her. He was sitting on the couch, a case file open in front of him, and he didn't seem to know she was there.

"Gil?"

He turned to her then, his eyes taking in the sight of her in his clothes.

"Morning," he said gently, "Sleep well?"

She nodded, watching him stand up and move over to her. They didn't break eye contact as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest. She tilted her face up to him and he noticed the slight sheen of tears in her eyes.

"Is everything all right, honey?"

He kissed her cheek and felt her shiver. Sara shrugged, laying her palms flat on his chest and resting her head against his shoulder.

"Everything's fine, I guess," she said quietly, "I need to go, soon."

Neither of them said anything for a few moments and Sara pulled away slightly. She looked up into his eyes and he saw the pain reflecting in hers. She turned her head away, breaking their connection, and stepped completely out of his arms.

"Please, Gil, I need to go home."

He nodded then and moved away from her.

"Get dressed and I'll take you to your car," he said softly, turning her in the direction of his bedroom and moving away in the opposite direction.

They sat silently in the space of Gil's car. He had pulled the car into the restaurant parking lot over twenty minutes before, shutting off the engine, and simply sitting. Sara hadn't made a move to exit the vehicle and he hadn't said a word to keep her where she was.

"I don't understand why I can't stop," she said softly.

He glanced over at her, a question in his eyes at the sight of tears on her cheeks.

"I can't stay away from you, Gil," she explained, turning to gaze out the window, "My heart is telling me one thing while my brain is telling me something entirely different. As a scientist, I know that I should listen to my brain but the pain in my heart just won't let me. I love you too much. I can't let that go."

"I love you, too, Sara," he told her, reaching for her hand. He took it and she squeezed his in response, not turning to look at him as she did so. "That won't ever change. If you need me, for anything, please, call me."

"I love my husband."

Gil didn't say anything but he wasn't sure who she was trying to convince, him or herself. He squeezed her hand again before reaching up to brush a stray tear from her cheek.

"You can still call me, Sara."

She nodded and reached for the door, exiting his car slowly and getting into her own. He waited for her to start the ignition and pull away before leaving the restaurant in the direction of his townhouse.

Sara pulled up in front of her house more than two hours after leaving Gil at the restaurant. She had decided that stopping for groceries would take her mind off of the events of the night before. It hadn't done any good but she had done some of her shopping and would be able to take a shower and clean up the house a little. Not that it really needed to be clean, she was the only one living there, apart from Roxy and Velma. There was no one there to make a mess.

She shut off her car and was in the process of taking the shopping bags out of the backseat when she heard the front door slam. She stopped what she was doing, turning quickly toward the front of the house.

Sam.

"Sam, honey, what are you doing here so soon?" she asked, feeling her entire body beginning to shake, "I wasn't expecting you for a couple of days."

He was angry, she could see it in his eyes, and she flinched as he came impossibly close to her, pressing her back against the side of her car.

"Where the hell have you been?" he breathed against her face.

"I went to the store," she told him.

"In a dress I've never seen before?" he snapped, "At four in the morning? Don't lie to me, damn it!"

Tears formed in Sara's eyes and she braced herself for the blow of his hand as his open palm came in contact with her cheek. Her back dug a little deeper again the side of the car, the door handle pressing low against her spine.

"I come home in the middle of the night to find my house empty? My wife gone! Do you think I'm stupid, Sara? Do you think I wouldn't figure out what you've been doing? Why you wanted to take a break?"

As each question came out of Sam's mouth, his hand struck her again. Her knees were weak from fighting and his body pinning her to the car was the only thing keeping her up. The bitter copper taste of blood filled her mouth and she cried harder. It was only when Sam's fist met her temple that Sara felt her body shut down…