Author: Michelle Bryan

Title: Revenge

Rating: PG 13 (Language)

Spoilers: Grave Danger

Summary: When disaster strikes in the office, how will a normally subtle, detached man react?

Pairings: G/S

Disclaimer: All rights of CSI and its characters belong to CBS, Alliance, and Mr. Anthony Zuiker.

A/N: This is my first story that I'm letting go public. I'm a very shy and self-conscious person so I haven't aloud many people to read my stuff. This isn't one of my favorite stories that I've done because, although there is some good suspense, it is kind of sappy. With that said, I do hope you enjoy it anyway and give me some feedback so I can get better. Thanks.

P.S. Mugna tak (A Danish many thanks) to Nath for spell checking my story. It's greatly appreciated as I have told you before. Any mistakes left in the story are my fault as I have changed a few things after her great editing.

This was written summer between S5 and S6.

Revenge

He took a look around the hallway, saw that there was nobody around, and slipped one foot past the threshold, but froze when he saw a flock of brunette hair lying gently across the desk. She seemed to be asleep, so he slipped the rest of the way in, closed the door, and walked around the desk.

"I know you." He whispered, lightly caressing her hair. "The great Sara Sidle. You're his love. I can tell, even if others can't - including yourselves. It's a gift as well as a burden to read people so well." He sighed, shaking his head slightly. "Maybe the way to him is through you. A simple plan of murder just turned into a fun game of torture. Fun, Fun, Fun." He continued to whisper into her ear with a little more excitement.

The noise of shuffling feet from the hall startled him and he jumped behind the shelf, located to the right of the desk. There he hid, behind many jars of unknown species of bugs and animals, until all hell broke lose.

"Hey Griss." Greeted Warrick Brown. He was a tall, handsome colored man with piercing green eyes that could captivate anyone he talked to. He was sitting on the couch in the break room, playing playstation during their break. Their break was at three in the morning, considered lunchtime for all night shift CSI's.

"Warrick." Gil Grissom, the Las Vegas night shift supervisor, gave him a small wave before turning to another of his colleagues, Catherine Willows. "Hey, Cath. Any of you seen Sara?"

Both Warrick and Catherine shook their heads so Grissom turned to look at Nick. The Texas born cowboy was sitting in the corner of the room, not talking to anyone. Since being kidnapped and left for dead, buried under mounds of dirt, left with only a gun and dissipating oxygen, he hadn't talked much to anyone but one person. "Nicky," Grissom started as he slowly sat down next to him, "How are you doing?"

The only answer he received was a small nod of Nick's head. "You know, if you don't feel like being here, you can take the night off, even the next couple nights. Take as much time as needed, Nick. Don't rush yourself back."

"I'm fine." Nick answered, no more then a whisper. His voice started to become more composed and strong as he continued. "I talked with the Doc and he said that same thing but I'm fine. I also talked with Sara earlier, so you don't have to worry about me."

Grissom knew that talking to Sara would definitely help Nicky. They were very close; like brother and sister. They flirted and hung out, but nothing would ever happen between them. At least that's what Grissom kept telling himself. It was the only way to keep the jealousy of how well Nick got along with Sara to a minimum. It was a good thing for Nick to be able to have a friend to talk to about everything. It was comforting to everyone.

"Last time I saw her, she was going into your office. She said she had a file for you." Nick told him. He stood up, said his "See y'all later" and started to walk to the layout room where his evidence lay in wait to be analyzed, but Grissom's voice stopped him.

"I want to make sure that everyone knows to be carrying. No one will leave this building without their firearms." Nick nodded and left the room. Catherine and Warrick nodded as well.

"What about you, Gil? You never pack the heat anymore." Catherine asked.

"I'm leading by example." He answered, pulling up the hem of his shirt just enough to show them his gun holstered to his side.

"Good. It's best to be safe." Warrick said, now turning back to his video game.

"Well, I guess I'll see you guys later." Grissom continued, after a moment. He started to leave, but turned back around at the door. "Warrick, if you're done your case then there is a smash and grab at the Bellagio Jewelers. Take Greg along with you this time. Catherine, I'm going to get the folder from Sara then I'll meet you at the truck. Brass is meeting us at the warehouse. He says the owner, Mr. Alfonzee, is there now so we can go talk to him."

"Well, why doesn't Jim just bring him in to the station?" Catherine questioned.

"Something about how Mr. Alfonzee doesn't think he needs to because he didn't do anything. Some shit like that." Answered Grissom.

"It always seems that the guilty ones never want to volunteer to come in. Even when we don't have any evidence on them yet."

"It's about intimidation. You probably scare the hell out of them." With that, Grissom left, a smug smile on his lips. Seeing that Grissom was going to ignore her death glare, she turned it to the closest member of the opposite sex, which unfortunately happened to be Warrick, laughing hard on the couch. He slowly realized she was staring at him and gave her an apologetic smile. She smiled back sweetly, never being able to stay mad at him for long, and left.

Grissom stopped just outside his office door. If he was in the building, the door was not to be closed. He liked having his door open, so people with test results could easily drop by and then leave. He wasn't one for company and having his door open just seemed easier. They could walk by, stop just at the door quickly, tell him the results, then leave. No need to stop, open the door, and then talk to him - just easy stop and go. Less time taken, more work finished. So why is it closed now? Sara wouldn't have closed it. She knows I like it open, he thought.

He slowly opened the door and noticed her hair scattered across his desk. Better then all that paperwork covering it, he smiled to himself and left the door slightly ajar.

Standing just inside the door, he couldn't stop his mind from wandering. The years of games he'd played, not only with Sara's feelings but his own as well, came flashing through his mind. The push and pull; one day he would flirt and talk with her like they were best of friends and possibly more but the next day he would ignore her.

He knew he was hurting her but he couldn't stop. Not only were his job and his life at stake but his heart as well if he ever let her into his life romantically and he couldn't face the risk. But looking at her lying with her head on his desk, he couldn't think about life without her.

Deciding that today would be the day that he stop his games, build their friendship to normal status again and then try for more, he started to walk towards the desk but was stopped by the shiny reflection of a knife blade coming up from behind Sara. Before he knew what happened, Sara was standing before him, complete shock written all over her face and for the first time in a long time, he saw fear flowing from her beautiful brown eyes. A knife held tight to her throat, an unknown man standing behind her, the source of this knife and fear.

"Dr. Grissom," He couldn't see him, but he could definitely hear the smile through the man's greeting. "Nice to see you again. I only came for you, but since this little pretty was lying here at your desk, I figured she could help. You see," He paused and took a deep breath. "Murder isn't as fun as torture. Does it torture you to see someone you love be held in such a disgusting manner?" He asked.

Grissom didn't reply. He didn't even look at the shadow the man was. He couldn't pry his eyes from Sara's.

"I see it. She may not, your colleagues may not, but I do. And now that you see her here, in this compromising position, you see it." He leaned into Sara's ear, "Can you see it in his eyes now, Sara? Look at the torture. It isn't fun, is it?" He whispered. "So, why the hell did you do it to me?" He yelled, focused fully back on Grissom.

"I ... I don't know what-" He swallowed hard, "what it is you're talking about." Grissom stuttered, still not taking his eyes off Sara.

"You don't remember do you? God! Do you know how fucking infuriating that is?" As he spoke, the knife rested tighter against Sara's throat. She yelped as it scratched against her, just enough to draw the tiniest hint of blood.

Grissom took an instinctive step forward as he grimaced at the pain in Sara's eyes. "Look, I don't know who you are, but we can talk. I'll talk to you. Just let her get out of here so that we don't have any unnecessary injuries, okay?" He pleaded, still not looking away from her. He could see the plea in her eyes, the pain, the fear, the only thing he didn't see at that moment was courage. Hold on.' He told her through his eyes and she gently nodded.

"You don't get it; murder isn't about talking, murder is about revenge. And, my revenge is for my brother. You sent him to the chair, you asshole. I had to sit there and watch the life drain from his eyes while he was fuckin' electrified!" He yelled with his right hand still tightly holding the knife. He slowly slid his left hand down Sara's back into the front of his pants.

Catherine was getting tired of waiting by the truck for Grissom. She started to head up to his office when she heard the yelling of a mad man coming from down the hall. Every head within hearing distance shot up to stare at the open door of Grissom's office, but not one of them moved for they were all scared.

Cath stepped towards the window and saw Grissom standing in the middle of his office, his body language giving off nothing but fear. She reached into her pocket for her cell and quickly phoned Captain Jim Brass of homicide. "Jim, hurry. Gil looks like he's in trouble in his office. I don't want to go any closer. I hear yelling, but if I get any closer then I might cause more trouble then help. It sounds like the guy has someone held hostage. By the look of fear on Gil's face, it can only be one person."

"Sara." He answered for her.

"It is. I can see her now; she has a knife being held to her throat. Jim, I see blood." She whispered in shocked awe.

"I'm just entering the building now."

"Jim, hurry."

He saw her look down at his belt, realizing what she was hinting at right away. Grissom quickly un-holstered his gun and aimed it towards the shadow behind Sara.

The shadow pulled his left hand out of his pants to reveal a nine-millimeter, glock, and pointed it towards Sara's head. Now her life was at the mercy of a gun as well as a knife. If it had been only the knife then she could stomp his foot, making him drop the knife, then duck, and Grissom could shoot him, but now the game had changed. Now, she had a gun to her head as well. If she were to stomp his foot now and try to duck, then the shadow's only reflex would be to pull the trigger and she would be dead no matter what.

"What was your brother's name?" Grissom asked as softly as he could while trying to stay calm himself as well as trying to calm the tension in the shadow.

"Micheal McFurant. Eight years ago, you sat at his trial, spewing about how his fingerprint found on the knife proved that he killed those two girls. Back then, fingerprints were still being tested in the realm of Forensic Science and yet those idiots on the jury still believed you. You were the one to put him away. Not only put him away, but you got him sentenced to death!" His grip on the knife tightened again and a little more blood slowly escaped Sara's neck.

"Mr. McFurant, please. I didn't do anything to you. Please, just let me go. I wasn't even here then." Saraargued helplessly.

"No, you weren't, but he loves you. I can tell. He took someone I loved and cherished and made me watch him die so now, it's only fair." She flinched as the sound of a gun being cocked by her head echoed around the silent office. It could even be heard throughout the now silent lab.

Catherine flinched as she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned quickly to see Jim Brass standing at her side, staring into the window.

"Let's go." He stated firmly.

They both stepped slowly into the now crowded office. "Put the gun and knife down now." Jim demanded as he and Catherine pointed their police issued 9-mills at the shadowy figure.

"Hell no!" He spat. "I'm not going to give up until at least he," He took the gun away from Sara's head for a second and pointed it towards Grissom before replacing it to the side of her head. "Is forced to see someone he loves die. No life left in her eyes. It's the best form of revenge." He said as he gave a quick kiss to the top of her head.

Grissom took another small step forward; now close enough to smell her sweet perfume. It gave him hope. "Look, I'm sorry for doing my job and putting you and your brother through that, George, but it had to be done. This is unnecessary. If you just release her now, no more harm done, then it won't be so bad for you."

Sara squirmed as Grissom got closer and she saw the fire and rage building up in front of the worry in his eyes.

"Admit that you love her and I'll think about letting her go." The shadow figure, now known as George, proposed.

"I don't have to admit anything. She isn't part of this, so let ... her ... go." Grissom all but growled the last three words through gritted teeth. His anger now displayed for all to see, and for once, he didn't care.

"That's not how it works, asshole. She's going to die and your pals behind you are going to see you cry. Just like my family saw me cry when the life of my brother was sucked out of him. They'll see you cry, most definitely." George gave Grissom a smug smile as he tightened the knife more. Grissom could see the will and fight being drained out of Sara's body just like the blood at her throat.

Her eyes were almost clear; no tears, no fight, no will, no courage. She gave Grissom an apologetic look, like she was to blame for this. "It's not your fault, Honey." Grissom whispered to her softly. "I love you… I'm not letting you die, don't worry. Stay with us here, Sara." She was about to pass out from the pain and stress, but his words pulled her back.

She nodded slightly to him. "I'm here." She croaked out. She took a deep breath when she felt the knife lessen its force against her throat.

"How cute." George mumbled. "You finally admit it to her, to everyone, but it's not going to get you anywhere. She's going to die, dumb ass. At least now you gave her some peace of mind before she goes." He laughed. "My brother had nothing like that." His laughter stopped immediately. "He was all by himself. He couldn't hear us through the window. He couldn't even fuckin' see us! All he saw was his reflection on the fuckin' one-way window. You, asshole, sent him to hell. Now I'm sending you and your girl to hell too." He turned the gun to Grissom as he gripped his knife once more.

"You do that and I'll shoot you in the most horrible of places so you bleed to death and suffer, you prick!" Yelled Catherine, stepping out from behind Brass and up beside Grissom.

"Jim, Cath, out now." Demanded Grissom.

"What?" They both asked, perplexed.

"You heard me; out now. This has nothing to do with you."

"But Griss-"

"No, get the hell out and shut the door. We can deal with this." Catherine and Jim slowly backed out of the office, shutting the door as was requested. They stood at the window looking in on the drama.

"If you take the knife away from her throat and let her out of here, I will put down my gun and you can have free shots at me." Grissom pleaded.

"Grissom, no. What are you thinking?" Sara cried out.

"I don't care if you take me, just leave her out of it. She wasn't even here when I put your brother away. Come on, George, go with me here." He continued to plea.

"How do I know you will go with it? How do I know that as I put the knife down you won't shoot me, huh? Do you think I'm stupid, asshole?"

"No, the complete opposite. If you were able to sneak in here with a knife and a gun, then you must be pretty smart." That put a smile on George's face.

"I am smart." He insisted.

"Of course, you are. Definitely smarter then I am. I mean, I'm giving my life up because there is nothing else I can think of doing. You're most certainly smarter." Grissom offered.

"Glad you noticed. So, what is the plan? You put the gun down, I release Sara, and then I get to shoot you?" George asked.

"Yes. But only one thing; you put the knife down and I put the gun down at the same time, then you release Sara, then you can shoot me, anywhere." Grissom answered.

"At the same time? Don't you trust me?" George asked with mock hurt.

"Trust but verify is what I was told once. The only way to trust is to verify that they can be trusted. If you put the knife down at the same time then I can trust that you will release Sara, only then can you get free shots at me. If you shoot anytime before that, you will have this whole department after you. You'll look like Swiss cheese when they are done."

"Deal. On the count of three, slowly place your gun on your desk and I'll toss the knife to the floor. Deal?"

"Agreed." Grissom looked into Sara's eyes for reassurance. "I love you." He whispered once more to her. He didn't expect an answer of any kind. He was about to give himself up for her and he knew she was too shocked for any form of answer.

It was as if time slowed. If you were to ask anyone but Grissom what had happened after George started counting, they would have no answer.

"One - Two -..." George started, " Thr-" He was cut off by a bang.

Grissom was hoping that science would prevail in this bout. Your hands are wired together. If one hand is to do something then the other hand follows unless consciously told not to. It worked in Grissom's favor. As soon as Grissom could see George's grip loosen on the knife, he looked at the hand still holding the gun. All it took was one second and the threat was over. With the loosening grip of the knife with the right hand, George unconsciously loosened his grip on the gun giving Grissom a perfect shot. He quickly stopped himself from moving towards the desk. He thanked God that, after Officer Furmansky threatened him, he had gone to the firing range to practice every day after work.

With only enough time to get the shot off and not think much about aiming, he took his eyes off Sara's for the first time throughout the whole encounter and shot. The sound echoed throughout the office, the rest of the building hearing it only through the muffled door.

The force of the shot sent George and Sara sprawling to the ground, blood draining fast out of his left hand, and slowly out of her throat. Grissom rushed to Sara's side, eyes and gun still trained on George, as he helped Sara up leading her towards the back of the office. She leaned against the back counter as Grissom still trained his gun on George until Brass and other officers burst into the office and took over.

Completely ignoring the others in his office, Grissom walked over to Sara. He stood in front of her, staring intently into her eyes. He didn't care that his feelings were written across his face - he wanted her to know.

He slowly brought his hands up to her bloody neck. He knew that her neck had evidence on it so his hands stilled, hovering above her cuts. He wanted so badly to take away her pain; to wipe away the blood and memories for good. No more bad - only good. He looked back up to her eyes from her neck, still not caring about the others in his office, including the Sheriff.

His eyes traced the patterns of her face as his hands slowly, gently followed. She closed her eyes at his touch. She too, ignored, or forgot about, the other people crowding his office. His next move shocked them both. The gentle touches and looks were enough to get away with, but a kiss? He didn't care, and after a second, neither did she.

He left his fingers and eyes dancing smoothly across her lips then painfully slow, he dipped his head and kissed her gently yet passionately. He leaned against her, still leaning against the counter. His hands went to each side of her hips, holding him up with the counter behind her. Still not letting go of her lips, he brought his hands back up and cradled her face. When they finally released each other's lips, she leaned her forehead against his. "I love you too." She whispered.

Grissom's smile was the brightest she'd ever seen. "Let's go see Al. He's not just a pathologist, he's a doctor and can stitch up your neck. Then we're going home." With her forehead still leaning against his, she nodded. He slowly dropped his hand into hers and they started walking out of the office with the fingers entwined.

"Gil!" Yelled Sheriff Atwater, but Grissom continued to ignore him as he walked down to the autopsy room never letting go of Sara's hand.