First and foremost, thanks, just, to the amazing person that IS Lauren. Make me cry, I just... thank you.

Sara, thanks for the idea.

Laura Katherine, thanks for making me smile.

"Oh my god, did this accidentally turn into a date?"

Grissom's head snapped up from his perusal of the bill to gawk at her. The wine bottle in between the two of them distorted the vision of her, and shadows were cast across her face by the distinctly romantic lighting. A date restaurant perhaps, but...

If he could have run from her scrutinizing gaze, he would have. Instead he stayed rooted to the spot, the check in one hand, his Visa card in the other. "Uh, excuse me?"

Sara, wonderfully gorgeous in her black top and red satin skirt, nodded and pursed her lips. She thought for a moment before speaking again. "Well, we've talked, you grabbed my hand... once but that still counts. And you're picking up the check?" She pulled her leg up underneath her and rested her chin in her right hand.

He was speechless; dumbfounded. So he just started for long moments, wondering terribly what to say.

Sara laughed and threw her head back, just, just so and looked at him with unfounded mirth in her eyes. "I'm just teasing." She reassured. "But you are paying!" And with that she shrugged on her light sweater and moved from the booth.

To a casual observer who looked at him in that moment, they would have believed him to be upset, irritated. But he wasn't, he was on fire as he watched her sand up and stretch, her form taunting his into wondering what it would be like, hovering over him.

He met her outside the restaurant, and in her wine induced haze she slid her arm through his and pulled him along, down the dusty street. Skipping once, she scuffed her shoes on the ground. It was nice, just being with her, looking like a couple.

Sara yawned and moved closer to him. "I think I've been inside for too long."

They walked along, arms linked. Grissom wondered whether, in that moment, they were something more than what he thought they were. But he smiled his tiny smile and shrugged a bit, to feel her move against him. "What do you mean by that?"

"Mmm, I just, I need to feel the sun. I need to get a tan, something. I need to breathe in air." He looked down at her just as she glanced up and smirked. "Real air, country air. New England air, something other than this... artificiality."

Grissom licked his lips slowly, wondering just how to respond to that. He could act aloof, or make some rather deep comment or act natural, and say what he wanted to say. "A little more sun would do everyone good."

He was projecting on himself, and she called him on it but not verbally. She grinned up at him as they walked slowly back to the car.

It was a slow and peaceful drive back to his apartment. He'd promised her coffee and intended to make good on it. He led her up the stairs to his home, even taking her hand to trail her behind him. It wasn't a grand gesture, but it was something and it made her smile, so he smiled too.

Once inside, Grissom set about making some random swanky blend of coffee he'd located at the back of one of his cupboards. And there she was, gorgeous on his new sofa, relaxed, so tired and disheveled that he nearly sobbed and went to her.

But he, in his restrained manner, remained in the kitchen, going through the motions of preparing coffee. It wasn't as easy as he'd wanted it to be- ignoring her long, lithe legs poking out from what he assumed was a rather expensive skirt. And the top, so simple but so sexy at the same time he wondered if she even knew that she was dressed in such a way.

He'd offered her a steaming mug and she took it in two hands, cradling it in her lap. "Yes, this is what I need."

"Coffee?"

She laughed and sipped her beverage cautiously, flitting her eyes above the rim of her mug at him. "Ha, no. Steam." His eyes widened at the mention of steam, taking it in on a distinctively sexual level. But she laughed again. "No, no. Steam as in... a sauna... or sweat. I need to lay in the sun somewhere and forget who I am."

He didn't want her to forget who she was. If she forgot who she was, she would forget him and he couldn't bear that. After spending so much time rebuilding, reevaluating, reacquainting himself with the intricacies that were Sara Sidle, he couldn't fathom the though of having to start over.

He couldn't stand to think that he might have to, but he realized that he would, in a heartbeat. But he waited a moment more for her to speak so he didn't have to tell her everything that was praying on his mind. That would be dangerous.

Grissom didn't have to divulge anything because in that moment Sara reclined on his couch and began speaking with closed eyes; a welcome litany to his wanting ears.

Placing her mug down on the table, she elaborated. "The beach would be so great right now. You know the smell of sunscreen? Like, if you smell it in the winter it just makes you... well I mean as in real winter, with snow and fireplaces... but if you smell it... it makes you long. The beach and the sun and, oh god, the water."

His coffee mug was scalding his hand, but he didn't care. She was smoothing through he hair with lethargic fingers and he was lost in wondering what he was missing; what those hands could do to him.

"Swimming would be fantastic." She drew out her last word, her head lolling to the side just a bit. Luckily she'd left her mug on the coffee table, so he hadn't had to rush forward to retrieve it as she fell slowly to sleep. "Nnnn, the ocean..."

"You'd be lovely next to the ocean Sara." His words came slowly and quietly, but she'd heard him and it make her smile there on the precipice of sweet slumber.

And then she was asleep, leaving her to dream of him just as she thought of the Atlantic when she pressed her ear against a seashell.