Sunday Morning Memories

A/N: Disclaimer: CSI is not mine, but if it was...dreams happily. I loved the reviews. Please send more!

Three Months Prior Continued

Sara stared at the lone bottle placed in front of her. The colorful refractions bouncing off of it from the stage lights were like warning signs. "Yield". "Stop. "Dead end." Yes, she knew that that was exactly what was at the bottom of the Heineken bottle she'd already paid for and had intended to drink.

She studied it closely as if she were a hunter stalking her prey. "Okay," she thought. "It's not as if one beer is going to affect you adversely." She shook her head. She knew better than that. She'd chase one beer with another and then another, all because of some stupid case. Sara shook her head once more and rose from the table. Tossing a few bucks on the polished surface, she headed decidedly for the parking lot. What she really needed was to go home and sleep.

Then again…that's when the nightmares would come.

Grissom paced what was known as a "living room" in Sara's apartment. She should have been home two hours ago. Had the case affected her so terribly that she was out somewhere drowning her sorrows? He hoped not…

"Shit," Grissom cursed as his pot of potatoes boiled over. He raced to the stove and turned the dial to 'low'. Opening the oven, a jet of steam blasted him in the face. He stared in at his broccoli and cheese casserole. Things had to be perfect. He wanted to right the wrongs he had made by giving her the rape case. He wanted to right every wrong.

His head snapped up as the bolt lock of the door turned over. The handle twisted around and the door was pushed open by an unforeseen force. Sara stepped forward. He jaw fell and her eyes shot out of her head. "What are you doing here, Grissom?"

He smiled sheepishly. "I found your spare…I figured I'd let myself in. I wanted to cook dinner for you."

She looked at him skeptically. Yeah, as if Grissom could cook. "I can cook, Sara!"

She gave him an apologetic smile and shut the door behind her. "Sorry, I've never seen you cook before."

Grissom returned her smile. "I'm going to go change," she informed him and sauntered from the room.

When she returned she was delighted to find dinner already out on the table in front of her. All thoughts of her case from earlier had been banished from her mind. Now as she thought of the meal waiting for her, her tummy grumbled. She was starving.

She took a seat at the table, Grissom seated across from her. "What are we having?"

"Mashed potatoes, broccoli and cheese casserole, and Italian bread," he replied.

"Sounds good." Sara took a tentative bite. She soon found that Gil Grissom was not a liar. He could cook exceptionally well.

"Do you like it?" he asked after she'd taken a few more bites.

"I love it, Grissom, thanks."

"I just wanted to apologize for earlier. I know you hate rape cases, Sara."

She leaned back in her chair and rested her head on her hand. "Then why do you put me on them?"

He paused before answering her question. "Catherine hates children cases. I still assign her to them. I hate cases with children as the victim too, but I assign myself to those as well. You've got to put your feelings to the side, Sara, or you'll never make it in this job. You're one of the most brilliant people I've worked with, but you've got to stop torturing yourself." He rested his hand atop hers in a gentle gesture.

She knew he was right, that she did get in over her head on these cases. No matter how hard she tried to disassociate any personal feelings from the victim or the suspect, she always came out feeling like she'd failed somehow.

Grissom could tell that Sara was going to need more than just a good dinner to help her heal after opening up this old wound. He thanked the Social Deities that he had at least that much intuition when it came to her. As little as it may be.

He rose from his chair, crossed the space that estranged them and encircled her in his arms. Pressing his lips to hers, he could taste the dinner they'd just shared on her lips. He pulled back and stared into her eyes. They darkened a little, and Grissom could feel his arousal building.

Putting her hand in his, she lifted herself from the chair and wrapped her arms around his neck. Grissom's hands connected at the small of her back. It was almost frightening how delicate and fragile she seemed.

His lips collided with her collarbone. Sara shivered as his tongue trailed a path from her neck to her earlobe. He pulled it into his mouth and worried it with his teeth.

Sara pulled away from his embrace. She could feel her skin stimulating at his touch. Goosebumps rose were his lips and tongue had been. Taking his hand in hers, she pulled him toward the bedroom.

She never did get that sleep she needed.

Present Day

His hands gripped her thighs as she writhed under him. She whispered his name, but he remained silent. He was intent on pushing her past her limits. He'd never felt more passionate about anything or anyone, he had decided. Not even his bugs. He knew when she was almost there; it was the 'Geek Mind Meld', as their co-workers had called it.

Sara sat up in bed; the memory she had just dreamed hit her full force. The night air was cold, and she shivered before tugging the covers up around her. It was only a few seconds before she realized that she was freezing because she was drenched in her own perspiration.

She climbed from the bed, fumbling with the switch on the nightstand. /Stupid/ thought Sara. /It's over. He finished it. So STOP DREAMING ABOUT IT!/

/I can't/ the weaker side of her conscience cried. /I can't stop. It won't just go away…He'll never go away. Bastard./

After splashing warm water on her face, Sara returned to the bedroom. The digital alarm clock read 5:30. She still hadn't adjusted to sleeping at night. Sara would constantly wake up early and roam her empty apartment because of it. At least, that's the excuse she gave herself.

She headed back to the bathroom and turned on the faucet. The glass doors of her shower fogged over with steam. She welcomed the raging hot water. Grissom had told her she showered in water hot enough to boil a lobster. She laughed at the memory of him turning on the faucet and scalded himself. Hearing him yell "Son of a bitch!" had just about done it for her. She had doubled over and tried desperately to make the laughter cease.

The amusement that the memory brought came to an abrupt end. She chided herself. No more thoughts of Grissom.

2 Months Prior

"Something is very strange here," Catherine commented. "I haven't worked a case with Gil in a week."

"Mm," Warrick responded. He was too exhausted to come up with an appropriate response.

Nick paused his XBOX. "Yea, he's been taking Sara with him on every case. Have you noticed there's no more fighting between those two?"

Greg sighed. "Yea…and I think I know why."

All eyes, including Warrick's half-lidded ones, turned to the newest CSI.

"Spill, Sanders!" Catherine commanded. Greg flinched. She could be so frightening when she was intrigued.

"Well," Greg pronounced the 'ell' extra long. "I saw Grissom and Sara…um…"

"C'mon, Man, before I tell Hodges to inform Grissom of your spelling mistake. 'Funtain' water?" Nick asked.

"I was in a hurry! I forgot the 'O'. Damn." Catherine was about to begin a tirade of curses that involved Greg and death when he opened his mouth again to finish the story. "Anyway, I saw Grissom and Sara pressed up against the Boss Man's Denali."

Catherine's eyes lit up. "Ooh…Were they kissing?"

Greg looked horrified. "EWE! I'm not going into details!"

"Details about what, Greg?"

Greg swallowed a gigantic lump in his throat. He recognized the voice from the door. "Nothing, Grissom…I…"

"He was just talking about…Gothika. He didn't want to ruin the movie for us," Nick interjected.

Grissom looked to each of the CSI's faces. He seemed sated and Greg heaved a relieved sigh. "Aren't you all supposed to be working?"

"We're on our lunch break, Grissom. Besides, look at poor Warrick, he needs the rest," Catherine patted his head gently.

Grissom shrugged. "Sara pulls triples all the time."

Catherine couldn't resist. "And by triples you mean…back flips? She does seem flexible."

The CSI's, including Warrick, had a hellacious time stifling their laughter. Greg literally had his whole fist in his mouth, Warrick had his lips pried shut, and Nick was turning red from the air he was holding in his lungs.

Grissom, however, had paled considerably. "I, no…—"

"You know?"

"NO! I meant shifts, damn it!"

As Grissom exited the break room, all four CSI's dissolved into giggles.