Title: Nocturnes

Author: Spike Speigel

Rating: PG-13

Classification: Grissom/Sara

Disclaimer: As usual, these characters don't belong to me. Just taking them for a joyride.

Spoilers: Committed, Play with Fire.

Summary: Grissom's having nightmares. Could there be a reason why?

Status: Finished. Many thanks to Anais for the excellent beta job, as well as correcting me on a major faux pas concerning dessert.

It begins with blood.

I'm holding Sara's hand as she sits on the curb outside the lab, still in shock over the accident. She's not listening to me as I tell her she needs medical attention. But, I don't talk long. Instead, my gaze falls upon her hand, the blood mixed with shards of glass and God knows what else. But, it's the blood that gets my attention. The way it adheres to her delicate skin, covering the lines of her palm in a tacky crimson mixture makes me uneasy.

It's then I notice that the blood hasn't clotted. Instead, it slowly spreads out circumferentially from the wound, the liquid vicious, almost sentient in its behavior. I want to look up at Sara and tell her once more she needs medical attention, but I get lost in the vermilion ocean now encompassing my sight. Sara's hand disappears beneath the oxygenated matter, what was once bright red turning a sickly shade of black.

I think I'm falling into the darkness, no longer registering Sara's hand in my own. I call out to her, but find that my voice fails me. It's garbled somehow, as though I'm speaking in tongues. I try once more, but this time my voice is muted until there's nothing but silence.

Silence.

Followed by the screams.

I feel my feet plant against solid ground, the darkness beginning to yield to the light. I shield my eyes, the light pouring into the void too much to register. I can feel my pupils dilate to such an extent that I can register the throbbing pain at the back of my brain, the information too much to process at once.

However, the light's intensity eventually wanes until I find myself in familiar confines. Even before I look up to the glass, my hand automatically reaches for the door's handle, already knowing that it's locked.

My gaze finally reaches its destination, the image inside the booth just as I remember it. The ceramic handle presses against tender flesh, the skin bruised in an almost floral pattern. Blood roses, perhaps?

His hand remains still as he presses harder against taut flesh. The screams continue to assail my ears, but neither attacker nor victim says anything. Instead, they look at me, her gaze boring holes into my very being. I can't tell whether she's forgiving me for placing her in this position or condemning me for abandoning her. And, it's the uncertainty that gnaws at me.

I didn't think this could ever happen. How could I? She's my rock. My constant.

Suddenly a variable in the equation called life.

I want to plead with her attacker, plead with him to take me instead of her. But, I can't take my eyes off her. I don't dare take my eyes off her, for the fear that if I do I'll lose her. I'll lose her. As though she'll cease to be if I don't continue to hold her gaze.

But, I already know how this ends. It's ended the same way the past five nights. This night shouldn't prove to be any different. My free hand balls up into a fist before resonating against the tempered glass. The door handle continues to deny me; the glass begins to transfer its potential energy through my arm, the sensation akin to just being struck down by Zeus himself. But, it's all for naught.

My hand uncurls, my palm coming down against the cold glass as I see pristine white ceramic turn first bright red before morphing to a dull black. I see a shirt, the color of the sky during the day, turn into a sunset, the warm glow absent. I see glass shards pouring out from the wound in her neck, the light dancing against them as they emulate twilight. And, I see her eyes, still unsure whether she's trying to absolve or damn.

But, something unexpected happens. The screams fall to the wayside, my ears focusing instead on the whisper hidden in the folds. The whisper is new. The whisper is foreign, yet familiar all the same. My gaze never strays from her as I continue to ascertain the murmur. Before I know it, the world falls silent until I'm able to make out the voice. A voice I know all too well.

"Stop."

I turn to the voice once I'm certain of its direction. However, I'm expecting the owner of the voice to be much further away based on the intensity of said voice. So, I'm genuinely surprised when I turn to see the person standing right next to me, my reflexes causing me to step back slightly at the sudden appearance.

The confusion begins to set in at this point, my gaze moving from the person next to me to the two individuals inside the booth, only one falling into the classification of person. The other is now merely a shell of her former self, the life expunged from her body. I turn back to the individual next to me, my voice an amalgamation of confusion and exasperation.

"Sara?"

She's smiling at me, her lips a near grin as she turns to the security booth, her doppelganger limp in the arms of a madman. "Anyone ever tell you you've got a penchant for the dramatic." She tilts her head slightly, making an addendum to her previous observation. "And, perhaps a flair for the morbid. Glass shards? Really?"

"What…" I'm trying my best to comprehend exactly what's transpiring, but for the life of me, I can't get past the fact that there are two Saras. Even though I'm certain that this is a dream, this just seems out of place for some reason. "What's going on here?"

"Sorry, I just work here." Sara walks over to me, the smile still playing across her face. "So, are we done here, or do you want to scowl some more?"

"Wait a minute…"

"This didn't happen. You were there. Sara walked…ran. Ran? Yeah, ran. She ran out of this room with little more than a scratch. And, what do you do?" She nods to the occupants of the booth, both now frozen in time, as though someone's pressed pause on the remote to my subconscious. "Hence the dramatic crack. Or, would it be overdramatic in your case? Because, let's face it, there's certainly no lack of drama when it comes to you and her."

It takes me a while, but I've finally realized what's been off this whole conversation. "You keep saying 'her'…"

She answers my question even though I haven't formulated it in my mind yet. "Because I'm not her. I'm you." I don't realize I'm laughing until I notice the smile wane from Sara's lips. "Sara's not here. She's wherever she is right now, doing whatever Sara would be doing at this particular moment out in the real world. But, in here, the only voice you're hearing is your own."

I'm nodding at nothing in particular, trying to put the pieces together. I've never had a dream this real. This… "Lucid? Am I having a lucid dream?" Sara walks up to me, the smile once more on her face. I don't know why, but her smile causes me to reciprocate in turn. However, the smile is quickly replaced with awe when her hand flies from her side, her palm striking me against my cheek with remarkable force. I wince as my hand absentmindedly begins to rub the violated area. "What the hell did you do that for?"

The smile turns into a grin as she answers. "You know what's really going to irk you later?" I shake my head slightly, still troubled by Sara's action. "The fact that Sara didn't just hit you." She throws me a wink before turning away, beginning to walk down the hallway. "You did."

I'm looking at Sara as she begins to disappear in the distance before turning to see Sara still frozen in the booth, her blood still shimmering like diamonds in a sea of tar. "You coming?" I turn back to the other Sara, who's waiting, albeit impatiently, for me, her foot tapping against the tile resonating along the hallway to where I currently stand.

I pay Sara one more glance before leaving her in the care of Adam, thinking to myself that that was an odd way to phrase that particular thought. I try not to ponder on it, instead focusing on Sara, who's still waiting for me down the hallway. When I finally make it to her location, she still has that saccharine grin on her face. I have to say; I'm beginning to find it a bit disconcerting, seeing Sara smile this much. It feels foreign, almost alien to me. Nevertheless, I manage to get my query out.

"Where are we going?"

She tilts her head slightly, her voice jubilant as she answers. "I'm hungry."

To which I respond, "What?" I don't think it's asking too much, given the fact I haven't comprehended a thing since she made her presence known.

"I'm hungry. C'mon. Let's get a bite to eat."

"You can't be serious. This is a dream. You can't really be hungry, can you?"

Sara contemplates my question for a moment before responding, her answer having an air of common sense to it. "Why not? I just had my throat slashed."

"But, that wasn't you. I mean, it was you but it wasn't. It was the other Sara that…" My head's starting to hurt trying to formulate a viable response. Fortunately, I never get the chance to find the right words, Sara answering with a question.

"What makes you think that wasn't me?"

I contemplate the question briefly before shaking my head, the sigh escaping my lips drenched in frustration. "All right. Fine. I'll play along."

The chuckle Sara throws my way warms my heart, even though I know it's not really her. As I'm cherishing the thought, she links her arm in mine, leaning against me before guiding me toward the door located at the end of the hall. I know this isn't real. But damn if it doesn't feel real.

I'm sitting across from Sara, watching her as she helps herself to another serving of cheesecake. By last count, this is her third piece. And, factoring in the baked ziti, breadsticks, minestrone soup and garden salad, there's no doubt in my mind that she wasn't being facetious when she said that she was hungry. In fact, hungry's starting to look like an understatement.

The edge of the fork slowly plunges into the pliant pastry, small gold flecks falling upon either side of the triangle before landing on the white china below. Sara looks up, her eyes asking me the same question as the first two pieces.

"I'm okay. You enjoy."

Sara shrugs her shoulders; most likely trying to figure out what kind of man would turn down cheesecake not once, not twice, but thrice. Not that difficult to figure out really since I'm more of a pie man myself, never mind the fact that this is a dream. And, while I'm fascinated watching Sara enjoy her feast, there's something disheartening about sitting down for a meal with her. But, I'm not really sure why.

I take a moment to observe our surroundings, somewhat awed that the room is this packed. It all seems very real to me. That is, until I take a closer look.

The room repeats itself.

The couple sitting at the table next to us also occupies the table on the opposite side of the room; the waiter that took Sara's order is also working the table behind us as well as the table near the kitchen. I guess it makes sense in a way, my mind trying to fill the room as best it can. But, still, where are these faces coming from?

"Looks familiar, right?"

I turn my attention back to Sara to see her pushing a now empty plate away from her, her hands tenderly rubbing her stomach to indicate that hunger is no longer a concern. Instead, she leans back in her chair, a small grunt escaping from between her lips. I don't know what to make of her right at this moment, but seeing her content and happy somehow brings a smile to my face. She catches me smiling at her, so I cover as best I can, returning to her initial question.

"I'm sorry. What was the question again?"

Sara smiles at my thinly veiled ruse, humoring me as she speaks. "The restaurant. It feels like you've been here before, right?" I nod slowly, the sensation of déjà vu too much to discount. "Remember when Sara asked you out to dinner?" I nod once more, not seeing the connection between the two. "Well, this is the place."

My brow furrows at the statement, the clues still too vague for my liking. "This is the place? The place for what?"

"This is what you thought of right after Sara asked you out. Sure, it might have been for the briefest of moments, but this is what you first thought of before your mind brought you back to your medical condition." The furrow's gone at this point, my eyes widening at Sara's revelation. "Dr. Karen Roth? Sundown Medical Group? Any of this sound familiar?"

Actually, it does. Too familiar for my liking. "That was a long time ago."

"Maybe." Sara leans forward, her elbows now on the table, her chin resting in her cupped hands while her eyes bear down on my person. "But, here we are. Lot of time has passed, but this place still looks as vibrant as it did the first time you conjured it up, wouldn't you say?" I look around once more, and sure enough, she's right. The chandelier in the middle of the room is still as detailed as the first time I saw it, right down to the chipped glass crystal in the middle. "So, is this a real place or just some fantasy you conjured up?"

I shake my head slightly, my mind still trying to adjust to what's transpiring. I'm not the type of person that recalls dreams, so the fact this one is so vivid is disturbing, to say the least. "Um, I'm not really sure."

"Liar."

My gaze moves from the chandelier to Sara, her face the definition of beautiful. I'd almost forgotten what she looks like when she smiles. God, it's a wonder to behold.

My voice matches her own, the flirtatious tone somewhat comforting me. "I'm sorry?"

"You heard me. Liar."

I chuckle softly at her faux insult, nodding my head slightly. "Am I that easy to read?"

She nods, the smile still gracing her lips. "Afraid so."

"Right. I'll have to work on that." Sara distorts her mouth into a half frown, half grin, as her eyes squint at me. Have I mentioned how beautiful she looks? "I always pictured having my first date with you in a place like this. Something elegant, something that would be worthy of you."

The smile disappears from her face, and I realize that I've just said something wrong. I'm about to try and rectify the situation, but something…how best to put this? Something strange happens. It's almost as if my vision's failing me, my surroundings blinking in and out of existence. I close my eyes tightly, opening them immediately, but instead of blinking, everything's almost wavy, as though I'm looking at sine and cosine waves interchanging on an oscilloscope, but in color. It's at this point that the right side of my head begins to throb, my hand going up to my face, my thumb and middle finger massaging my temples. My hand's still over my eyes when Sara speaks, the concern evident in her voice.

"You okay there, big guy?"

I wave my free hand in her general direction, trying my best not to regurgitate on an empty stomach. "I'm fine. Just a headache." The hand falls away from my face as I open my eyes to find the world in focus once more. However, I realize that things are different when my eyes fall on the empty chairs now surrounding our table. Those weren't here before. Were they?

"Sara, where did these chairs…" I don't get the chance to finish my question, what with the hand that claps my shoulder, jarring me from my thoughts. I look over my shoulder to see the last person I'd ever expect to see. "Hank?"

"How's it going?" He's smiling at me as though it's the most natural thing in the world to do, as though we're the best of friends when we're anything but. I want to ask him what he's doing here, but the shock still hasn't made its way out of my system. So, I continue to look at Hank as he walks toward Sara, leaning toward her before his lips greets hers in a tender kiss. While I would be okay with a simple peck, it's the fact that Sara kisses back that bothers me immensely.

My mouth's agape as I try to think of some way to respond to what I'm seeing. Instead, I remain speechless as I continue to observe the event transpiring in front of me. I'm not sure how much time elapses, but the kiss eventually ends, Sara dropping a light kiss against Hank's lips before he occupies one of the empty chairs. Chairs, which I'm almost certain, weren't here before.

Sara returns her attention to me, her voice apologetic yet euphoric all at once. "I'm sorry. Where were we?"

I'm struggling for words at this point, somewhat upset that Sara's treating the matter with such levity. I'm about to speak, but the figure from the corner of my eye interrupts me, my head turning to see Warrick walking toward us.

"Warrick? What are you…"

He never looks at me, instead walking toward Sara. If I didn't know any better, I'd say time somehow folded back on itself, but that's not the case since it's now Warrick leaning over to kiss Sara, Sara returning the favor in kind.

I can hear them chuckling softly in between breaths, Hank grinning at the scene playing out in front of him. In front of us.

Sara's hand gently strokes Warrick's cheek as she moans into his mouth. I'm about to get up, to excuse myself from the table, but I find it difficult to do so, what with the two hands pushing down against my shoulders. I look to either side of me, on my right stands Nick, on my left someone I don't recognize. It's not so much the fact I can't readily identify the face, as it's the fact that he doesn't have one. Well, not entirely.

He has lidless eyes that look more like magazine clipping pasted onto his face as well as a makeshift mouth that seems to look like an open wound sans blood. Other than that, he's pretty much featureless.

Who is this guy?

It's as though the stranger reads my mind, answering my unspoken question, his voice sounding eerily like Sara's. "Ken Fuller. Hazel eyes. Organic chem lab. TA. BMOC." It's at this point the voice shifts into a more masculine tone, the voice familiar but I can't readily place it. "Although, I really wouldn't call myself overrated. More of an acquired taste, if you will."

I shake my head slightly, partly to shake the fuzziness from my head and partly to make sure I'm still dreaming. I turn my attention to Nick, who's mimicking Hank's sickly grin. "Enjoy the show, Griss. I know I am."

I'm about to object, but both Nick and Ken release their grasp on me, now walking toward Sara instead. Warrick walks past Nick, both high fiving the other as Ken nods at Hank, Hank returning the nod in kind. Before I realize what's happening, Sara pulls Nick into a deep kiss while Ken begins to trail kisses against the nape of her neck. I'm trying to look away, but find myself oddly drawn to the scene playing out in front of me. Warrick's voice breaks the interminable moans, his tone eerily calm. "Hell of a show, huh?"

I'm not sure what disgusts me more at this point. Warrick's brazen response, or the two men working their ministrations on Sara. Sara pulls away from Nick, gasping for air. However, she doesn't get the chance for sufficient breath, Ken's open wound coming down on her lips almost instantaneously. Nick's tenderly kissing the point where Sara's shoulder meets her neck when he throws me a wink.

That's the straw that ultimately does it, as I rise from my chair, my voice forceful yet desperate all at once. "That's enough. I don't want to see this." I start to turn away from Sara and the others, but stumble backward against the back of my chair when I see Sara standing next to me. "How…"

"It's not about what you want, baby. It's about what you need.

Sara's palm lands dead in the center of my chest, pushing me back, so much so, that I audibly gasp before I find my feet tangled up beneath me, tumbling over the chair and onto the ground. My arms brace me as best they can, my eyes closing tight, almost a precursor for the pain that's undoubtedly going to course through my arms upon impact.

So, imagine my surprise when the collision never comes. I slowly open my eyes to find the restaurant no longer there. Or, maybe it is still there and I'm just someplace else. That's a dream for you. It's the non-sequiturs that get to you.

No matter how you phrase it, I'm no longer in the restaurant. Instead, I'm engulfed in darkness. No, that's not right. I can see my hand in front of my face, so it's more like someone's painted the background a nightly shade of black.

The hand comes literally out of nowhere that I jerk away from its sudden appearance in the void. However, as I focus on the area about the hand, I can see Sara coming into focus, that Goddamned smile on her face. "Need a hand, stud?

I slap the hand away in annoyance, making my way to my feet without her assistance. Once I'm back on my feet, I notice a glimmer of light out of the corner of my eye. I don't realize I'm turning to the source until I see the cone of light illuminating a solitary chair.

Funny, looks just like one of the chairs from the restaurant. My mind's still trying to make sense of the situation when I feel Sara leaning against my back, whispering into my ear with her saccharine voice.

"Shame we couldn't hang around long enough for it to be occupied, huh?"

I look over my shoulder, the question somehow obvious for the situation. "What do you mean? Whose chair is that?" Sara smirks at me before she steps back. I turn around just in time to see her walking away once more. "Hey, where are you going?"

She doesn't look back as she speaks. "Next stop." I look back to the empty chair cascaded in white light, its meaning still nagging at my subconscious. "You coming?"

My gaze lingers on the chair, feeling somewhat uncomfortable the more I look upon it. What did she mean that it hadn't been occupied? Too many questions and too few answers. I shake my head in defeat before turning away from the light, following Sara into the pitch-black void instead.

I can't tell whether we're moving or not, the absence of periphery making it seem as though we're walking in place. It's been a while since we've spoken a word, and honestly, that's just fine with me. I can do with the silence; regain some semblance of mind in the interim.

It's unclear how long we've been walking, but I'm assuming time doesn't really matter in the dreamscape of one's mind. What feels like an eternity could happen in the span of a few minutes as anyone with the penchant for daydreams can attest to. Nevertheless, it does feel as though we've been walking for an eternity.

Ironic? Yes. Comforting? Not in the slightest.

I find my thoughts going back to the empty chair, my mind trying to decipher its meaning. I try not to think about it, but it's the way Sara pointed it out that bothers me. Playful, but with something else belying her tone. It's the something else that's bothering me.

I sigh, somewhat in frustration, before I realize that the edges of these confines are beginning to come into focus. Almost as though someone was roughly sketching the basic geometries in pencil before committing the lines to permanent ink. It's an amazing sight, my mouth opening slightly in awe as my eyes widen in fascination.

I'm still focused on the surreal happenings around me when I find myself stopping abruptly in mid-stride. I look down to see Sara standing in front of me, her head slightly tilted as she speaks. "So, what's the deal with the beard anyway?"

The question takes me off guard as I begin to wonder if my hearing's starting to betray me. However, there's no mistaking her words as her hand comes up to the side of my face, her fingers gently stroking my beard. Her touch is stimulating as the hairs on the back of my neck can attest. So much so, I'm having trouble vocalizing my thoughts. "I…I don't…what?"

Sara laughs softly as her hand grazes my beard, stopping at my chin where she gently squeezes it between her thumb and forefinger, before returning to her side once more. There's something almost endearing in the gesture.

Almost.

"Did you grow it for her?"

"Who?"

Sara's arm gently grazes mine as she walks past me, her hand now lingering near the nape of my neck. However, as she comes around me from the opposite side, I'm startled to find that Sara has been replaced with someone else. Someone familiar.

"Terri?"

Her hand squeezes the back of my neck, pulling me toward her. However, I relent, my body stiffening as Terri's lips move toward my own. Her voice is a whisper, her lips lingering near mine, but never touching. "Didn't grow it for her. She left long before you managed to get up the nerve to do anything, isn't that right?" Her breath is a pleasurable mixture of peppermint and vanilla, her voice just as sultry, silken, as I remember it being. "But, you never really wanted her to stay in the first place, did you?"

Her lips crash against mine, the sensation too much for me to bear. I try to fight her as best I can, but there's something intoxicating about her kiss that my eyes eventually close against their own volition. Terri moans into my mouth, her tongue forcing its way into my own mouth. I'm not sure when I realize it, but the smell of peppermint and vanilla disperses, the smell of chamomile and honey replacing them.

Terri roughly pulls away from me, my eyes trying to focus as best they can on her countenance. However, as I begin to regain my sight, I realize the reason for the chamomile and honey. She smiles at me, that knowing smile, as though she's got me figured out. Then again, Lady Heather always thought she had everyone figured out. It was one of her more endearing traits, in my honest opinion.

"Or perhaps you grew it for my benefit?"

My breath hitches in my throat, but I quickly recover, answering her question, hoping to God that I sound as collected in my head as I do right now. "Or perhaps I grew it because I wanted to. Did that thought ever cross your mind?"

Lady Heather laughs a robust laugh, her hand slipping from the back of my neck, the palm sliding against my shoulder blade before coming to rest against my chest. "Actually, it did. But, I don't think that's the reason for your metamorphosis. I think she is." Her eyes dart to the left before coming back to me. She apparently sees the confusion in my eyes, because her eyes move to the left once more before settling back on mine.

Unsure of what to say, I reluctantly turn my gaze away from the woman that is supposed to be Lady Heather, my gaze falling upon a memory that always lingers, even to this very day.

Is that all you have to say?

Would you like to have dinner with me?

My mind's screaming yes even though I already know the outcome, wishing that I could somehow change it.

No.

Why not? Let's…let's have dinner. Let's see what happens.

Sara…I don't know what to do about this.

Is that really me? God, I seem so detached. So…callous? Is that the right word?

I do. You know, by the time you figure it out, it really could be too late.

And, just like the last time, Sara walks away, leaving my former self looking after her as she goes, a look of confusion on his face. I've played the moment over numerous times in my mind, but this is the first time that I've realized just how insensitive I was that day. It begs the question; why haven't I realized this before?

My doppelganger flips off the lights in the office, but instead of just the room going dark, the world around me begins to vanish, the lines reverting back to the pencil sketches before being enveloped in darkness once more. I turn to Lady Heather, looking for answers, but instead find Sara standing next to me once more. This time, I don't find myself unsettled by the sight, and that in itself bothers me.

"Why did you show me this?"

Sara strokes my beard once more, not lingering as long as she did previously. "You really do look handsome with the beard. Anyone ever tell you that?"

She begins to walk away once more, but my hand quickly captures her wrist, Sara looking back in genuine surprise. "No. I'm not moving one inch until I start getting some answers." Sara looks down to the point where we join before looking back up at me, her surprise now replaced with confusion. "One more time. Why did you show me this?"

The confusion quickly vanishes from Sara's face, replaced with the lighthearted visage that I've become accustomed to. "Show you what? Gil, there's nothing out there." I'm trying to keep my frustration in check, trying to respond to Sara's words. Unfortunately, I never get a chance to, Sara speaking once more. "Almost there. C'mon, let's go."

I'm about to point out that we're not going anywhere since I have her firmly in my grasp, so it comes as a surprise that Sara's now standing in the distance and my fist is clenched tightly around imaginary air.

That's right. Dream. There's no reason why I shouldn't have seen this coming. And yet, I didn't. Huh.

Realizing that I don't really have a say in the matter, I follow Sara once more, hoping that she's telling the truth. I just hope that wherever we're going, it's worth all the trouble it's taking to get there.

I can feel Sara's arm brushing against mine as we walk, but for some reason, I find myself pulling away from her. Is it because I don't feel comfortable being this close to her, or is it because I'm annoyed with her at the moment? Truth be told, I'm not really sure. I'm probably over-thinking the situation. Gil Grissom, over-thinking a situation involving Sara Sidle. That's rich.

I shake my head absentmindedly, the motion getting Sara's attention. "What is it?"

I shake my head once more, this time with purpose. "Nothing."

"C'mon, you can tell me." Her arm brushes against my arm once more as she leans over toward me, her voice a playful whisper. "Promise, I won't tell anyone. Cross my heart and hope to die." She makes the motion about her chest, her heart undoubtedly in the center of the cross' intersection. This is Sara we're talking about after all. Meticulous to the very last detail.

I decide to change the subject, instead commenting on our surroundings. "Is there any particular reason why we're walking to wherever we're going shrouded in perpetual night?"

Sara thinks about the question for a moment, eventually shrugging her shoulders as she replies. "None that I can think of."

"So, it's possible for there to be an actual surrounding?"

She nods curtly, grinning at me. "Where would you like to be right now?"

I turn away from Sara, answering under my breath, my tone condescending. "Anywhere but here."

"What was that?"

"Nothing." I turn my gaze back to Sara, my voice questioning. "So, can you do something about the lack of a backdrop?"

"Nope."

"No? But you just said…"

Sara interrupts me, answering the question I've yet to ask. "This is your dream. I'm just along for the ride." I don't mean to laugh, but she sure could have fooled me. So far she's been calling every damn shot. I'm about to tell her as much, but she interrupts me. "If you could be anywhere in the universe right now, where would you want to be? And, a specific place this time. 'Anywhere but here' isn't gonna cut it."

Along for the ride, my ass.

I shake my head in defeat, deciding the best course of action at this point to play along. I'm starting to ponder Sara's question, taking the matter sincerely. Might as well since I'm stuck here. Anywhere in the universe. Where would I want to be right at this moment?

As I continue to ponder, I notice the black fading away, something else replacing it. It's almost like a Polaroid picture, the way the image gradually comes into focus, the faded yellows eventually replaced with more vibrant colors. I stop walking, Sara following suit, as I look around, trying to piece the images together.

It takes me a moment, but when I do comprehend the muddled images, I audibly gasp, more in awe than anything else. I can hear Sara's voice in the periphery, but I don't turn to her. Instead, I continue to take in the newly formed surroundings, still amazed by the clarity.

Sara speaks once more, a bit louder than before. "So, is it everything you remembered?"

I nod, still startled that we're even here. I'd thought I'd put this part of my life behind me. But, the surroundings are just as they were the last time I was here. Almost like a moment frozen in time. I guess the Polaroid comparison wasn't that far off after all. I don't know why I turn to Sara, but I do. And, when I do, I find myself taken aback. Not because of some type of nightmare induced vision, but instead because the smile that's been plastered on Sara's face is no longer there. Even her voice sounds different, the sincerity almost palpable.

"Strange choice, wouldn't you say?"

My voice matches hers, but instead of sincerity, mine is laced with confusion and anger. "Why did you bring me here?"

She bows her head ever so slightly, shaking disagreement, before looking back up at me. Her arms fold about her chest, nestling under the swell of her breasts. "I told you, I'm just here for the ride. You're the one doing the driving."

"You're lying." I basically spit my words at her, the emotions being stirred up within me upon seeing this place once more unsettling beyond words. "Why would I want to come back here? This is the last place I'd ever want to come back to."

"Then why are we here?

My mouth opens slightly, but since I realize I don't have an answer, it closes once more as I turn back to the lush green that spreads from beneath my feet toward the horizon. I don't hear Sara so it surprises me when I feel her hand on my shoulder. "Have you figured it out yet?"

I don't look back, instead continuing to survey the park, looking for inconsistencies, but finding there are none. It's exactly as I remember it save for the populous. It was anything but empty the last time I was here, so very, very long ago. My voice betrays me, cracking as I force myself to maintain my composure. "Figured what out?"

Sara's hand slides down the length of my arm before stopping on my upper arm, turning my body to face her. Her demeanor remains solemn, her voice hushed as she responds. "Why we're here." I shake my head, my mind screaming to me that this isn't right. I shouldn't be here. I need to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. Anywhere but here. Anything but this.

I'm about to tell Sara what she can do with her holier than thou attitude, but the voices coming from behind me stop me from speaking my mind.

Oh, God! He's got a gun!

I don't even have to turn around. I know exactly what's happening behind me. I start to turn back to the commotion, but Sara prevents me from doing so, her hands cupping my face, holding my gaze with hers.

Police! Freeze!

The gunfire erupts on cue, the amalgamation of screams and manmade thunder making my blood freeze in the vein. I close my eyes, even though I'm not looking at the carnage. I close my eyes, because I want to wake up.

I can feel the tears seeping through my eyelids, trickling down the side of my face. I can feel Sara's hands gently cradling my face. I can feel the heat from the miniature explosions. I can smell the newly formed smoke in the air. And, once the shooting stops, I can smell the air. I can smell the blood.

Honey? Hon?

The tears come faster now, my mind forming the images in my head even though I know I'm already in my head. I can feel the heat radiating from her body as I cradle her in my arms, the cold rushing in. I can see her deep blue eyes staring at me even though I know she's not looking at me anymore. My head moves to her chest, my ear pressed tightly over her heart.

And, I hear nothing.

Nothing but the fading screams mingled with radio chatter. Followed immediately by my own voice, the helpless desperation unnerving me to the core.

Somebody call an ambulance! Please, somebody! Oh, God! Somebody help me!

I can still hear myself pleading for help as I finally speak, my voice matching his desperation all the same. "No more. Please. I don't want this."

Sara's voice, while gentle, surprises me when I hear her response. "Do you finally know why we're here?"

My eyes fly open, my anger finally getting the better of me. I'm about to tell her to go to hell, but I'm left speechless as my gaze falls upon Sara, her cerulean blue shirt covered in blood. Blood flecked in silicon starlight.

She tilts her head away from me, pulling back her hair to expose her neck as well as gaping wound now occupying the area. And, do you know what I'm thinking at this point? I'm not thinking about killing Adam with my bare hands. I'm not thinking about stopping the flow of blood. Instead, I'm thinking that it's smiling at me. The wound in her neck. And, it's in that moment that I finally realize the answer to Sara's question.

"I never left, did I?"

Sara's hair falls back over the wound, a gentle smile playing across her lips before she speaks. "No, you haven't." Her hand tenderly caresses my cheek as she continues. "I know how much she meant to you, but she's gone. There's nothing you can do to change that."

"But, I don't want to forget her. I don't want to lose her."

"I get that. I do. But, do you have to be here to remember her?" Sara's hand falls away from my face, my head moving slightly in the direction of her hand as I find myself missing the touch. "There are other ways you can remember her, right?"

I want to answer her, but to tell the truth, I've never really thought about it. But, am I lying to myself? After all, I just realized that I haven't put this part of my life behind me, so what else am I repressing? I'm still searching for an adequate answer when the voices emerge from behind me once more.

Don't you dare.

What?

Put it down, right now. You promised that you wouldn't go in today.

I'm sorry, but the morgue's backed up and they're already short as it is. Look, I know I promised you that it'd just be us today, but this is important. You know I wouldn't go if I didn't absolutely have to. You know that…what are you smiling at?

Nothing. Go. Spend some time among the dead men. But, you still owe me a day.

How about a night?

How about a night and a day?

Deal. I'll be back as soon as I'm done. I don't know what I'd do without you. You know that?

Oh, I'm sure you'd get along just fine. Probably replace me with a younger model when I get all saggy and wrinkly.

Never. I'm gonna love you, wrinkles and all.

Yeah, yeah. Now get going before you renege on your promise and I don't even get you tonight.

Perish the thought.

Oh, and just in case you do decide to stay late, just picture me in that black teddy that you like so much.

Why?

Because that's what I'll be wearing when you get back.

Now that's what I call motivation.

Gil, what are you doing? Stop it. Mmm, oh God. You're…you're gonna be…uhh…you're gonna be late.

The dead men can wait.

Ever the romantic. How long do we have?

The rest of our lives.

Good answer. Now, come on upstairs. There's a teddy with your name on it.

And it's not even my birthday.

The voices fade away back into the nothingness, even though I remember vividly what comes next. God, I loved that black teddy. Sara must see the smile emerging on my face, because she laughs softly. I'm not sure why, but I follow suit, my laughter eventually overpowering her own. After a moment, we both regain our composure, Sara speaking first.

"You loved her?"

I answer honestly. "Very much so."

"And it hurt when she was taken from you?" I nod, uncertain about Sara's curiosity. "Well, I hate to tell you this, but she was going to die one way or another. It's what you choose to do with the time in between that matters. Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you?"

"What…"

Before I realize what's happening, Sara's lips are on mine as I feel her arms wrapping around my neck, pulling me deeper into the kiss. I know this isn't real. This isn't real. This isn't…the hell with it.

My hand finds the small of her back as I press her body against me before sliding to her side, my arm now about her waist. My free hand moves to the back of her neck, my fingers becoming entwined within her raven waves. I feel the congealed blood about her neck, tacky to the touch. I smell iron and strawberries. I taste both life and death. And, in that moment, I finally realize what Sara's been trying to tell me.

What I've been trying to tell myself.

My eyes fly open, my breathing haggard. My mind feels fuzzy, as though it's wrapped in cellophane and is being pressed under a rolling pin. My hand finds its way to my forehead, the sensation of perspiration adhering to my skin the first thing I notice. My eyes are darting around the room when I finally realize that I'm awake.

A guttural sigh escapes my lips, my body turning to its side. The green LCD lights illuminating the darkness of the room indicate that I've been sleeping longer than I should have. Been kinda run down lately. Is that why I slept this long?

I sigh, my body returning to its original position, my eyes now fixed on the ceiling. I'm trying to remember my dream, but as is the nature of dreams, it begins to disappear into the miasma that is currently my mind just as quickly as it appeared. There was something. What was it? Something important. God, what was it?

My arm's now draped above my brow, my eyes peering beneath the lower edge of my forearm. I know it was something important. Why the hell can't I remember? It's right on the tip of my tongue, but I just can't remember. It's like a word that looks like it has a basis in the English language, but when you try and pronounce it phonetically, it sounds like you're speaking Japanese instead.

I sigh once more, this time taking a deep breath, trying to calm down. However, the breath has a derivative effect, as the scent of…what is that? Is that strawberries? I don't know how that's possible, seeing as how I don't have anything vaguely resembling a strawberry in the place. But I smell it nonetheless.

My gaze follows in conjunction with my olfactory senses, eventually falling upon my jacket residing atop the back of my computer chair. That's when it hits me. It was raining earlier. Sara only had her vest on, so I let her borrow my jacket before we made a run for it to the car. It must be Sara I smell.

Sara.

I linger on the jacket for a moment before my gaze moves to the phone sitting on my nightstand. I don't hesitate as I lift the phone from its cradle, punching in the numbers that I know by heart.

"Hey."

I turn toward the direction of the voice, somewhat surprised to see her here. It feels as though I'm still dreaming, the setting sun coupled with the heat lines rising from the ground making her figure blurry in the distance. However, the closer she moves toward me, the more she comes into focus, and I'm hit with the realization.

This isn't a dream.

I'm about to stand up, but she beats me to the punch as she takes a seat next to me along the concrete frame surrounding the body of water behind us. She smiles a timid smile before her head drops down, her attention now on her feet dangling beneath her.

"I know you wanted to talk, but don't you think this is a bit…extravagant?"

I apologize to her, realizing in hindsight that this may have been out of the way for her. May have been? There's no doubt it was. "Sorry. The music relaxes me."

She nods, turning her gaze back to me, her feet still swinging freely beneath her. "It's okay, Grissom. It's not a problem. To tell the truth, I come here every once in a while just to see the water show. It…" She pauses for a moment, a subtle smile playing on her lips. "Relaxes me."

I return the smile, looking back over my shoulder to observe the Bellagio Fountains at work. Sara follows suit, both of us taking in the sight for a brief moment. Then, almost in unison, our gazes return to the other as I begin to speak. "So, you're probably wondering why I called you out here."

"No, not really. The why I figured out since you told me over the phone." My brow furrows slightly, Sara smiling as she attempts to alleviate my confusion. "We're here because you wanted to talk." I chuckle softly, realizing that technically she's right. "No, I'm wondering more about the what. After all, it's not like we really talk outside of work."

The sorrow in her voice is unmistakable. I've heard that tone before. It was the same when she came into my office to inform me about her PEAP session. When she told me the reason she moved to Vegas. Well, I'm certain of one thing. This conversation won't end like that one. I won't give her…I won't give myself the chance to back out. I came here to talk, and that's exactly what I'm going to do.

"Grissom?"

My attention moves back to Sara, the expression on her face one of confusion. I must have been thinking too long. Inner monologues. I think I rely on them too much in situations like this. I take a deep breath before finally speaking.

"Okay."

"Okay?" Given the current silence and the fact that Sara still has that perplexed look on her face, I'm going to have to say more than just one word to get the point across.

"Let's…let's…" I find myself wanting to forget the whole thing and make up another reason why I've called her out here, but I promised myself that I was going to take this all the way. I have to. "Let's have dinner."

"Dinner? But, it's one in the afternoon."

She doesn't remember. I was afraid that she wouldn't. Nevertheless, it's not going to stop me. "No, Sara. What I'm trying to say is…let's…let's see what happens."

I remain deathly still, my breath caught in my throat as I wait for Sara to comprehend the meaning of my words. Luckily, it only takes her a brief moment, the look of surprise on her face a dead giveaway. "Grissom…I…"

She's hesitating. And that's all I need to know. I already know what she's going to say. Truth be told, I think I've known for some time now. After all, why else would my mind conjure up the empty chair?

I decide to let her off the hook, realizing that she was right when she asked me out what feels like an eternity ago. That I'm too late.

"It's okay. Okay." Sara starts to speak, but I don't give her the chance. I don't dare give her the chance. "I guess it was foolish of me to assume you weren't seeing someone. Naïve, really, when you get down to it."

"Grissom…"

"Hey, at least I tried, yeah?" I offer Sara a weak smile, her face a jumbled mess of emotions I don't care to identify at this very moment. I just want to go home. I just want to get out of here. I leap off the makeshift bench, absentmindedly brushing off the rear of my pants as I continue. "I think I'm gonna take off."

Her voice is a mix of sympathy and confusion as she speaks. "Wait. We should…we should talk about…"

I wave her off, the smile disappearing from my face. "Really, it's okay. Thanks for coming all the way out here. I appreciate it." I begin to walk away from Sara, when for some unknown reason, I stop, turning back to look at her, the words sincere. "Greg's a lucky guy. Make sure you remind him as often as possible."

Sara doesn't say a word, instead looking at me, her face unreadable; almost neutral. Probably still in shock. God knows I'm not doing so well over here. Nevertheless, I manage to nod at Sara before turning back before I walk away from her. As I continue to put distance between the two of us, I feel a sensation as though a weight's been taken off my shoulders. My heart slows and my breathing returns to normal. It's in that moment that I realize what's just happened.

I'm no longer in the park.

I'm free.

Days turn into weeks and weeks turn into months. At last count, it's been two months, three weeks, and one day since Sara and I sat in front of the Bellagio Fountains. The thing is, while I expected myself to feel depressed the more time I have to think about the incident, I find the opposite happening. Don't get me wrong, it still hurts that Sara rejected me. But, it's not the end of the world. I've still got time left. I've still got life to live.

I've started becoming more sociable to those around me. Just a few days ago, I went out for drinks with Warrick and Nick. I've been going to matinees with Catherine when our schedules permit. Oh, here's a kicker. I actually joined a weekly bowling league with Jim.

Simply because I'd never done it before.

Because I wanted to.

But, still, there are moments, brief moments, when I think back to the time Sara asked me out to dinner. What would have happened had I said yes? Would our relationship be as rewarding as her current one with Greg?

I can't fault the boy. He knew what he had in front of him and went for it. I wish them nothing but the best of luck. Yes, it's strange whenever they smile at one another, my mind trying to find the subtext in the lines of their faces. However, I remind myself that it's no longer in my hands. I missed my chance. All I can do now is live.

It's been far too long since I last tried it.

"Hi. This seat taken?"

I look up from my seat to see Sara standing in the aisle, a bucket of popcorn in her arm, a gentle smile on her face. I return the smile, shaking my head slightly. "Please."

Her body falls onto the seat with a dull thud, some kernels falling from the bucket onto the floor, joining the day's old soda and a piece of black licorice. She positions the bucket between us, gesturing for me to take some. I happily oblige, tossing a few kernels into my mouth before returning my gaze to the movie screen.

The opening credits begin to scroll down, the music building in intensity. I remember the first time I saw this movie. It probably explains why I'm here right now. Buster Crabbe comes onto the screen, and all of a sudden I'm seven years old once more. I must be grinning like an idiot, because Sara speaks, a hint of levity to her voice.

"This must take you back, huh?"

I nod, my gaze still fixed on the larger than life images. "Show me a kid that didn't love Buck Rogers, and I'll show you an unhappy kid."

From the corner of my eye, I can see Sara nodding agreement as the smile grows on her face. She scoops a handful of popcorn from the bucket, tossing a piece into her mouth. After working on the morsel, she speaks. "Been a while since we've did this."

"Yeah."

Another moment of silence passes before she continues. "So, how did things go with you and Sara?"

I shrug my shoulders, my eyes still on the black and white images. "She's dating Greg."

"Oh?"

"Turns out he makes her happy, so who am I to complain, yeah?"

I can tell Sara's mulling over my statement, what with her leg bouncing up and down against my own. As soon as the leg ceases its motion, Sara questions, "So, she turned you down?"

"I guess you could say so."

"Guess?" Her tone's a perplexed one, as though I've just given her the answer in Patois. "What do you mean when you say 'guess'?"

I frown slightly, realizing that I'm not going to get a moment's peace unless I answer her questions, ultimately relenting. "I asked her out. She said no."

"Hmm."

Yes, I know she's fishing. But, given the fact I'm not exactly in control here, I decide to play along. "'Hmm', what?"

"I just find it strange is all."

"Find what strange?"

"Sara saying no to you." I can hear Sara masticating on a fresh kernel, perhaps a handful instead of the solitary one she finished previously based on the way her words come out. "You sure…mmph…she said…mmph…no?"

"Yes." My mind flashes back to the moment and I realize that I'm not entirely correct. "No. Not really. She didn't say no. She…she didn't answer."

The crunching sounds lessen next to me, followed by an audible gasp. Definitely a handful she was working on. "So, what you're telling me is that you turned tail and ran."

I'm genuinely surprised at the persuasive tone that emanates from my mouth. The only problem is, I'm not sure whether it's for her or if it's for me. "I did not run."

"C'mon. You really expect me to believe that? If I know Sara, and I like to think I do seeing as how I'm your representation of her, she most likely wanted to talk, but you decided to drop the whole thing altogether. How am I doing so far?"

I hate it that she's right. "Is there any chance we can do this later? I was in the middle of a movie."

"'Fraid not. Didn't you wonder why, after all this time, I came back?"

My response is flippant, to say the least. "Because you're apparently one of those kids that hates Buck Rogers?"

"He said, avoiding the question."

I sigh a heavy sigh, realizing that any chance of me watching the movie has gone the way of the dodo. "Okay. Fine. What was the question again?"

"Why'd you run? I mean, you drop a bomb like that on the woman that's been pining for you for like ever, and you were expecting what? For her to throw herself at you?"

Well, kinda. "I dunno. I just…"

"I'll tell you what it was. You were afraid that she'd say no. At least this way, you can keep telling yourself that you told her how you felt and make her out to be the bad guy. Girl. You know what I mean."

"I'd never think that of Sara."

"Yeah? So tell me then. Why'd you run?"

"Because of Greg." Well, that's a new one. Did not expect that to come out of my mouth.

"Greg?"

"Uh, yeah." I'm starting to get that uncomfortable feeling. The one that you get when you realize your bladder's full and all the stalls are taken kind of feeling. "Greg's closer to Sara's age than I am. They have similar interests. Most importantly, he makes her happy. Who am I to break that up?" Because of the silence, I assume that Sara's mulling over my answer. However, I didn't anticipate the response it would evoke in her, her hand smacking me against the back of my head. "Ow! The hell you do that for?"

"Because you're an idiot. Have you completely forgotten our last conversation?"

My voice is frantic now, my emotions starting to get the better of me. "No! Why do you think I told her how I felt? Because I was bored?"

"Yeah, and I see how well that went over. Do you really believe that garbage you're trying to sell me about Greg? The woman loves you. Loves. You. Do you really think age means anything to her?"

"Well, not now. But eventually, who knows?" I try to regain some modicum of composure, my voice lowering in intensity. "Besides, she's with Greg. So, I'd say it's a moot point."

"So, that's it?"

I abandon the movie, turning my attention to Sara. "That's it."

"You're not even going to…"

"No." I have no idea what she was going to ask, but 'no' seems like the correct response.

After a moment of holding her gaze, Sara turns back to the movie. I follow suit, reaching over to the tub, only to find Sara pulling it away from me, cradling it against her chest. I chuckle softly, realizing the irony. Even in my dreams, I can't win. In any case, I go back to watching the movie unfold, Buster with raygun at the ready. I'm beginning to get into the movie once more, when Sara's voice pulls me out of the moment, her voice condescending.

"Idiot."

I turn back to Sara, frustration tinting my voice. "Look, what do you want from me?"

She eyes me for a second or so before answering. "I want you to…"

"Yes?"

"I want you to…"

"Already got that part. You want me to 'what' exactly?"

Then, she does the strangest thing. She smiles. "I want you to get the door."

To say I'm confused is an understatement. "The door? What, you want me to go out to the lobby?"

Her hand rises from her side, moving to the side of my neck. I find myself puzzled yet enjoying the sensation of her touch. She continues to smile as she speaks. "Get the door."

Before I have a chance to ask her what she means, her grip tightens around my neck as she pushes me to the floor.

The sharp pain shooting through my side is but one indication that I'm up. The other, the fact that I'm lying at the side of my bed. I'm shaking my head in disbelief at my current predicament. She threw me out of my bed from inside my head. She's good.

My hand's massaging the tender area near my ribs when I realize that that thumping sound isn't a by-product of falling out of the bed. I gingerly make myself to my feet, following the sound into the living room where I finally recognize the sound.

"Get the door, she says."

I'm working a kink out of my neck as I walk toward the door, whoever knocking on the other side starting to annoy me. It's not so much the fact they're knocking as it is they keep on knocking in a rhythmic pattern as though they're working a set of bongo drums. I have half a mind to give them the other half. Unfortunately, that idea gets thrown out the window once I open the door.

"Sara?"

"Hi. I didn't wake you, did I?"

"Well, actually…"

"Can I come in?"

There's something urgent in her demeanor, so I step aside, allowing her access. She walks in slowly, her gaze taking in my living room, most likely looking for changes since the last time she was here all those years ago. I close the door behind me before walking into the living room, gesturing Sara toward the couch.

"Please. Sit down."

She subtly nods, taking a seat near the end of the couch. I give her ample space as I sit in the armchair adjacent to her. Her hands are clasped tightly, her head bowed. I'm not really sure what to do here, so I remain silent, waiting for her to make the first move.

I'm not sure how much time passes since I've followed Sara's example, but instead of looking at my clasped hands, I thrum my fingers against my thigh. I've almost got Ode to Joy perfectly synched to my machinations, but quickly abandon it once Sara begins to talk.

"Did you mean it?" My brow furrows, uncertain of her query. Upon looking up from her hands, I'm certain she sees the confusion evident on my face since she begins to clarify. "When you asked me out. Did you mean it?"

I answer honestly. "I did. But, I wouldn't have had I known you were…" I have to force myself to say the word, let alone think it. "Involved with Greg."

Apparently I've said something amusing, because Sara chuckles. However, it's not a sincere one. It feels almost hostile. "Right. Because I know how well you took it when you found out I was dating Hank."

"Wait. You're angry with me?"

"You're damn right I'm angry!" Sara rises from the couch, beginning to pace aimlessly. "Everything was going fine until you had your epiphany, vision, whatever you want to call it. You had no right to tell me how you felt. Not now. Not when I was finally piecing my life back together."

I've never seen her so upset, at me in particular. I slowly rise to my feet, my tone calm; collected. "I'm sorry, Sara. If I knew this was how you were going to react, I never would have told you."

She quickly turns around, her eyes boring into my very being. "Well, isn't that considerate."

"Look, I don't know why you're upset with me. I never meant to hurt you."

"But, don't you see Grissom? You never mean to hurt me. But, somehow, you always do." Sara looks away at this point, her focus now her feet. I'm about to respond, but she interrupts me, her tone civil once more. "Greg asked me to move in with him."

Yes, I'm stunned.

I knew things were going well between the two of them, but not this well. Never in a million years did I envision this scenario. I eventually speak, my tongue fumbling with the words. "Well, that's…that's…I'm happy for you."

"Happy?"

"Of course. You deserve to be with someone who'll make you happy."

Sara looks up once more, our gazes meeting. "I know. And that's where I'm having a problem. That's why I'm here." My mouth opens slightly, my mind trying to decipher the meaning behind her words. "Did you mean what you said?"

I don't hesitate, knowing the answer even before I speak. "I wouldn't have said it if I didn't."

Her gasp is audible as her gaze begins to waver, as though she's trying to register what I've just said. However, once she regains her composure, she looks at me once more, her voice hushed. "Why now? What's changed?"

I know the answer to this one as well. "I have." I move closer to Sara, Sara making no effort to step away from me. "I'm tired, Sara. I'm tired of being afraid, of wondering what I might lose if we do this. But, you know what I just realized?"

"What?"

"I'm going to lose you either way." She looks up at me, confusion and fear evident in her eyes. "None of us are long for this world. It's what we do with the time given to us that matters. And, right now, I want to matter to you."

Her smile is immaculate, as is her countenance, her voice tender. "You've always mattered to me."

The silence hangs in the air as we continue to look at the other. However, my curiosity gets the better of me, the uncertainty beginning to gnaw at me. "So, what do we do now?"

"What do you mean?"

How could she not know what I mean? "Well, what about Greg?"

She looks me over for a second before letting loose with a gentle chuckle. "I told Greg that, while his offer was touching, I wasn't ready for that kind of commitment."

"Wait. What are you saying?"

Her hands are now encircling mine, pulling them between us. "I'm saying that while there was a part of me liked the way Greg made me feel, there was another part of me, a larger part, that was already spoken for." There's no mistaking the meaning behind those words, Sara's smile confirming my assumption. "It's always going to be you, Grissom. God help me, but you're who I want."

I chuckle softly, tenderly squeezing Sara's hands. My mind flashes back to the Bellagio Fountains, and for some reason, it just seems fitting to ask once more. "Have you had dinner yet?"

Sara smirks at me, the subtext not lost on her. "No, I haven't."

"Wait right here. Let me make myself more presentable and we'll go."

She nods at me, a small smile playing across her lips as I reluctantly let go of her. "Oh, don't worry. I'm not going anywhere."

I smile at Sara before heading into the bedroom. As I begin to get dressed, I can't help but think back to my dream. It began with blood. I'd somehow thought that it'd end the same way as well. But, standing in front of the mirror, straightening my shirt collar and tidying my hair, I realize that I've been wrong. All this time, I've been wrong. And, I'm okay with that.

Once I'm done, I walk back out into the living room, somewhat surprised that Sara's still there. For a minute there, I thought I was still dreaming. Heaven forbid.

Sara smiles at me as I move toward her. I think I'm grinning like an idiot right about now, but I really don't care. "You ready to go?"

Her answer is almost immediate, the sincerity genuine. "As ready as I'll ever be."

My hand gently touches the small of her back as I lead her to the front door. Sara steps out into the warm night air, quickly turning back toward me as I close the door behind us. We look at each other for a moment and then I do the unthinkable. I put my arm around her shoulders, Sara welcoming the gesture as she presses her body closer to mine.

As we make our way to the car, I smell the faint scent of strawberries, and I realize that I'm glad that I was wrong. This all may have begun with blood, but I know now how it ends.

It ends with hope.

Fin