As Grissom drove to Sara's house, his thoughts went back to the argument he'd had with her only mere hours before.

"Sara!" Grissom yelled to her as he chased her down the lab corridor. "Sara! I'm not finished!"

She turned around, eyes shooting daggers into his. "What?" she fired back.

His voice turned to a whisper as he leaned closer. "As a representative of this crime lab, it is not under your authority to determine whether a man is guilty without proper evidence," he seethed.

"Proper evidence!" she shot at him, rolling her eyes, oblivious to the growing number of lab personal turned bystanders. "So his fingerprints at her house, his fingerprints on the knife, and his semen on the condom that also contained her DNA is not proper evidence? Then what the hell else do we have? Huh?" Her voice and posture mirrored his previous stance, and she could swear she could feel his beard. "This is a slam-dunk case. I apologize if I got a little, rowdy, in that interrogation room. But you know what, I can live with it because I know that I'm right." She began walking away, but after a few yards, she turned around, fire still ablaze in her eyes. "And I know that you're wrong."

With that, she continued her confident prance down the rest of the hallway towards the locker room.

"Sara Sidle!" Grissom roared, sending lab rats scattering and glass walls trembling. "Come back here right now!" Sara continued on her stride. "What makes you so certain that you're right? What compels you to always blame the men?" He knew he was stretching, but he couldn't lose. Not in front of everyone.

This last comment stopped her dead in her tracks. She threw back her final blow. "I think you've just presented the most substantial piece of evidence all by yourself," and she left, bypassing the locker room to head directly to her Tahoe.

He was knocked out of his reverie when he found himself knocking on her door. "Grissom? What? Do you know what time it is? I was almost asleep. What the hell are you doing?"

The fact of the matter was, he didn't really know what he was doing. "I thought I'd, um…" This was not going to go well, and he knew it. He looked up to see her face looking just as confused as he felt. "I, um, I wanted to… to apologize… for before. I was out of line. I knew you were right, but with all the people looking at us and I… I don't like to lose… and well, I was and…" She silenced him, putting her index finger over his mouth.

"Look, I know where you're going, so you can just stop." He looks so lost, she thought to herself, cursing herself for even thinking of pitying him. Remember what he did to you today, she reminded herself. Yeah, but look at what he's doing now. She internally sighed, noting that now he was making her schizophrenic.

"Sara," he said softly, her returning to the real world. "I really am sorry. I'm trying to… I'm working on, rather… um…" His hand raked through his mess of salt and pepper curls, more pepper than salt. He took a deep breath and started anew. "You told me once that, given proper evidence, a man accused of raping a woman is most likely the assailant." Now she was really confused. "It's the same thing as if a man were accused of verbally berating and embarrassing a woman. Only, in the second instance, the evidence collected is not so accurate. In this case, the investigator has misread the evidence given to her, but not due to her lack of intelligence or skill. No, the reason for the misreading is due to the fact that the man has made his evidence so vague and… and so hazy that he can't even distinguish what it means."

Grissom sought Sara's eyes once more, and found what he'd last expected to find. It wasn't hatred or anger, or even confusion, he found in her eyes. No, because for some strange reason, cause unknown, Sara Sidle had actually understood what he'd said to her. Even if he didn't even understand it, all that mattered was that she comprehended what he meant. What he saw was the kind of compassion and empathy she showed when she knew she was getting to far into a case. And, just like it did every time her saw her like that, that look just made him fall harder for her, for he knew she really cared for him, and only wished he could do the same for her.

He looked at his feet, finding a speck of dirt on his shoe fascinating. "I… I'm sorry. You should be sleeping; I shouldn't be here. This is-"

"Grissom," she stopped his rambling, but he still refused to look at her. "Gil," she said more forcefully. This time, he looked up, his eyes reflecting more confidence than he believed he possessed. "Thank you for being honest with me. It means more to me than you could ever imagine. And even though I know that there is so much more that needs to be discussed, I am both impressed and greatly appreciative of what you've done."

Sara knew that being so open was possibly making him internally spontaneously combust, and decided that some gratitude on her part would make him feel better. Though, she admitted to herself, she meant every word she said.

Both stood there, their own social ineptness catching up to them. Neither knew what to say, so it would seem that a stalemate was in progress, to be relieved only by the forfeit of one or both players.

"I'm sorry," both said simultaneously.

"No, it should be me that's sorry," Sara told him. "I shouldn't have yelled at you. You deserve better."

"You deserve better," Grissom corrected. "You had all the reason in the world to yell at me. I was being a complete asshole, have been over the past years; and I want to make it up to you." Sara had to confess, she was intrigued. "Meet me in my office at the end of shift tomorrow morning. I'll explain everything then."

Everything? What was he talking about, she thought. Obviously he had put more thought into this apology than she first assumed. Assume nothing she remembered him saying, and she knew he was right. Life held more to than to be expected, she knew that now.