Disclaimer: I'd like to think that everything revolves around me, but I've been told that everything revolves around some guy named Steve who lives in Arkansas. Go figure.

Rating, Beta Props, etc. – See Chapter 1. Do remember this takes place in early Season 5. Season 6 is fantasy as far as this fic is concerned.

A/N: I do apologize for the delay everyone! There was a slight shortage of lines, and I need the following week's lines in order to lay out where this week's will go with the story. (In other words – I'm trying not to write myself into a corner too much.) Plus, I am back working on the neglected Equilibrium.

First and last lines of the YTDAW Improv challenge were provided, and are italicized. Microsoft Word says … oops… 2,082 words.

"Go ahead and quote someone – I know you want to." Sara smiled softly at him from the rim of her wine glass.

Grissom choked a little on his own wine, setting the glass down quickly and reaching into his lap for his tailored napkin.

"Sorry," Sara murmured, suppressing her laughter. Grissom had been trying all night to be some intensely romantic… whatever he thought that was; and Sara found his whole routine adorably pathetic. She couldn't help but yank his chain a little, despite her twinge of guilt at the flush of embarrassment crawling up his neck.

"Look," she said seriously, reaching across the small table to rest her hand on his. Wow, he's warm. "Look, I don't know what's gotten into you, and I'm not quite sure what any of it means. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I don't want you to morph into something, or someone, that you're not."

He looked at her strangely, and then focused his attention on the empty space in front of him. Their waiter had removed their plates a few moments ago, and they were waiting for their coffee.

Apprehension welled within her; she hadn't meant to offend him. She studied him closely, wondering where the man who was her supervisor left off, and this new Grissom began. Was it all an act for her benefit? If so, why did he feel the need?

Their coffee arrived, and Sara stirred in two creams before sipping it slowly. Grissom drank his black, and his eyes were a million miles away. They were probably on the other side of the chasm of silence between them.

"Well?" she asked him rather pertinently.

Sorrow swam across his face as he murmured softly, "Perhaps you were correct."

Confusion prominent in her words, Sara replied, "Correct about what?"

He shrugged slightly. "This. Us."

"Refresh my memory here, because I'm not sure what you're referring to."

"Perhaps I am too late."

Affronted and in shock, Sara sputtered, "You're not. I just… I'm not sure about this new you. I've never seen you this way before."

"There was a very good reason for that."

"Oh? And what would that be?"

He sighed heavily and stared into his coffee cup. "You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

"No, that's the reason. You wouldn't understand me. Who I am at work is only a part of who I am. Perhaps if I'd approached you earlier, perhaps if we'd talked about this a long time ago, things would be different. Now, when I try to open up to you and be myself, you chastise me for it."

Sara opened her mouth to retort, but he held up his hand to silence her. "No, your apprehension earlier regarding a relationship between us was valid. I didn't want to admit it, but perhaps it is too much for me to ask you to forget. To trust."

"Griss…" She didn't know what to say. Maybe he was right. Maybe she couldn't trust him. "I want to."

"I'm sure. But like I said earlier, just what is it that you want me to be? Clearly, this," he said, spreading his arms wide in presentation, "is not it."

"That's entirely unfair and untrue. You can't just go and do this morph into some romantic studboy and expect me not to be surprised."

"I did expect you to be surprised. I also expected you to be pleased. Or impressed. Or something." He was obviously frustrated, and his voice was rising. "Not critical and patronizing." He rose suddenly, and placed his napkin next to his coffee cup. "I'll take care of the bill with the front desk. I think its best we end this conversation now before it escalates. Perhaps we can talk again when you return to Vegas."

Sara gaped at him, her heart crumbling slowly at the realization that she just blew it between them. What was with him? He went from hot to cold in seconds. And then it hit her, hard. He was insecure. Well, not quite insecure. Unsure, maybe, and nervous. He'd taken a chance in coming here and he'd taken a bigger chance in openly expressing how he felt about her. She didn't question his feelings now. However, maybe he questioned hers. He'd taken a risk, and she'd teased him for it. She'd done so this morning as well.

He looked at her longingly, like a kid in front of the window of Saks on 5th Avenue, staring at some amazing Christmas toy he knew he couldn't have. And then he turned and walked away.

"Grissom," she said quietly, "wait." But he didn't; he kept walking, out of the small dining room and out of her sight.

Dammit! She stood up quickly, her own napkin forgotten as it fell to the floor. Within minutes she was knocking on the door to Grissom's room. He opened it slowly, mid-knock. Her fist froze and hung dumbly in the air as she stared past him into the room. His suitcase was spread open on his bed.

"You're leaving."

"I see no reason to stay, Sara."

"I see. I suppose it is best then. It wouldn't have worked between us if you'd bailed at the first sign of any problems. I need a man with a bit more… stamina." She held her head high, her tone defiant. She'd be damned if she'd let this man get the upper hand on her.

An eyebrow shot up and his eyes narrowed at the thinly veiled insult. "It's a shame you didn't have the patience to find out how much stamina I do have."

"I'm not the one packing his bags and heading for the hills, now am I?" she sneered.

"Where exactly are we again?" He looked around the room dramatically. "Doesn't look like we're in Vegas anymore, Toto."

"I came here to get away… from you… from everything. You're the one who followed me here. I didn't invite you, that's for sure!"

That silenced him for a moment, but the anger and hurt still flashed in his eyes. She saw it clearly; and it fueled her next words. "I've never been the one who was unwilling to try. And apparently you were willing to try too. I don't know exactly what I did in the past twelve hours to change that, but all it says to me is that you really don't want to try at all." She looked away from him then, not wanting to see if her words ran true in his eyes.

He stepped towards her slowly. "That's not true. I do want to try." She felt the warmth of his hand on her shoulder. "But it doesn't seem like you are ready to let me."

She turned to him, the dark emotions startling her slightly. "I can't switch gears that quickly, Gil. To me, it seemed like you thought that we'd just sleep together and then everything would be okay. That's very romantic, but not very realistic. You can't tell me that's not what you were thinking this morning, because I know you were. And even that is completely overwhelming to me."

He pondered that for a moment before lifting his hand from her shoulder to behind her neck. God, his hand is like fire. Okay, she would not swoon. No swooning here.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "You need time. I understand." Although he didn't sound very understanding… he sounded hurt.

She met his gaze. "What do you need?"

"You."

"And you're sure of that?"

"Yes."

And another freight train of realization plowed into her. This wasn't up to him anymore, hence his insecurity. It was her decision, and he knew it. She pulled away from him and made her way slowly to the bed. She needed to sit before her legs gave out from under her. "When you make up your mind about something, you sure go all the way, don't you?"

He stood where she left him, intensely serious. "I can't afford not to."

"I must exasperate the hell outta you," she sighed.

He walked towards her, stopping inches in front of her. "You do." His voice took on that husky quality again, and Sara's tummy did its flip-flop from earlier.

"I'll bet I know exactly what you'd like to do about that too."

His hand reached for her, his knuckles grazing the side of her cheek. "You probably aren't far off."

She looked up at him. "But if I said no, you'd stop."

He withdrew his hand. "I would."

"And you'd wait?" she asked apprehensively, almost a whisper, "Until I said yes?"

"I would."

Wow. The decision was hers. "What would you do if I said yes now?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Nick smiled to himself as he ran his finger across the brim. His cousin and her friend were coming into town for a visit, and he was scheduled to pick them up at the airport around 9 a.m. tomorrow morning.

He had brought a change of clothes as well as his old hat. Las Vegas wasn't his old hometown by any stretch, so he'd retired his Texas style when he'd relocated here. Many good memories were contained in that hat; it felt good to bring it out again. Although is primary reason was one more practical – he was afraid that Luann wouldn't recognize him without it.

Hearing footsteps in the hallway, Nick stuffed his hat carefully back into his locker. But he was too slow, and Catherine caught sight of the gray brim.

"What's that?" she asked. "Planning on a hoedown in the trace lab? Maybe some square-dancing in the kitchen?" She smiled generously, clearly teasing.

"I thought the place could use some excitement, Catherine. It's been dreadfully dull around here. Willing to two-step with me?" He rose and reached for her, maneuvering her into position and starting a slow waltz by the windows. Catherine was speechless as he led her around.

"Yo. What's this?" Warrick's voice was cautious, serious, as he walked into the locker room.

Embarrassment crept up Catherine's face as Nick laughed and twirled her around, ending in a modest dip. "We're dancing, man. Catherine wants to square dance in the kitchen. Lighten it up around here a little. You can partner up with Greggo."

Warrick raised an eyebrow at that as the blush on Catherine's face deepened. "I was only teasing him," she spat, extracting herself from Nick's embrace. "He's the one who felt the need to spin me around like a top."

"Aw c'mon – you liked it," Nick drawled. His laughter trailed off as he noticed Warrick's intense stare.

"In your dreams, cowboy," Catherine said with a scowl.

Nick made kissy noises at her as Catherine focused her attention on a confused Warrick. "He's got a genuine ten gallon cowboy hat in his locker." Warrick's expression faded into one of amusement. "Really? Lemme see."

Now it was Nick's turn to scowl. "I'm picking up my cousin after work at the airport. She and her friend are visiting from Texas, and I'm going to show them around."

"And you need a hat for that?" Warrick asked.

"Yeah, I do."

Warrick and Catherine looked at each other and then burst into a fit of giggles. Nick muttered bitterly to himself, "Next time leave it in your car. Just leave it in your car." He took his hat out with dignity, and placed it purposely on his head. "I happen to like this hat. You're both just jealous you can't look this good in my hat," he stated.

They turned to look at him again, and a new round of hysterics started. Catherine sputtered, "I don't think we'd want to."

"Oh yeah? Give it a try." Nick tossed his cowboy hat at her, effectively shutting her up.

… continued next chapter ->