Much thanks to Marlou. She was the (un)lucky beta for this chapter. I should say that anyone who ever betas for me … well, they deserve medals. Anyway, she rocks.

And oh my – the awesome reviews I've been getting! You guys are great and I'm so glad that you're enjoying this story.

I still don't own them. I tried to get a loan to buy them but my husband needed a new car!

This is a response to the YTDAW improv lines. Oh, and I have to thank mossley for bailing me out of the beginning!

Um … yeah. I think I'm done yackin' it up

"How did a cactus end up there?" Sara mused, taking the report from Doc Robbins, handing it to Grissom.

"It's not like it's a whole cactus, just a piece of one," he replied, sitting down and releasing his arm from its crutch.

"But still … a cactus. That had to hurt."

"It's safe to assume that it wasn't pleasant. You know, this isn't all that odd - I've found pen caps, bubble gum, rocks – people will put anything up their nose."

"Uh … no, things go out, not in."

It was funny. All the things she'd seen, it was the little things that seemed to bother her – Grissom loved that about her and thought of it as one of her endearing traits. He couldn't help but cut in and ribbing her, knowing her aversion to germs and bacteria. "Well, it's not bad considering what goes in your nose everyday when we breathe. Dirt particles, dust mites, germs … what's a cactus compared to that?"

When Sara grimaced and reached up to rub her nose, he saw it - or didn't see it, rather.

Her engagement ring was gone.

Her long fingers were beautifully naked and he decided that he liked them that way. A lot. She could have taken it off for the visit to the morgue, but the autopsy had already been performed - they were only there to retrieve the autopsy report.

The next few minutes were a blur and he vaguely recalled saying goodbye to Al. When they left the morgue, Grissom trailed behind her, keeping his gaze focused on her hand, waiting for the ring to magically reappear. Surely his eyes were playing tricks on him. Maybe she forgot it or perhaps she just decided not to wear it at work. Maybe it meant she wasn't engaged anymore.

"This is driving me crazy," he muttered under his breath.

"What's driving you crazy?"

Grissom twisted his lips, wondering if he should just tell her the truth or try to worm his way out of even answering. He could almost imagine himself telling her of this crazy dream he had – how real it was. How in the dream she'd moved on and promised herself to another man and there were rings and parties and even doves in tuxedos. He would revel in the confused look she would give him; the way her brows would crinkle and draw together; the slight downturn of her lips. And as he always did, he would silently wish he were in the position to kiss that pout into submission.

Of course, none of that happened. He just followed her down the hall, feeling like he couldn't quite catch up with her, no matter how fast the pace. Thoughts of the previous years and how she was the one trying to keep up with him were short lived. He didn't want to think about her pain or his avoidance because that would mean that what was happening now was fair.

But still, the ring wasn't there and as long as it didn't return, he would be content. He wouldn't be happy or ecstatic or elated – he didn't know if that would ever happen. For him to ever experience those feelings would mean that Sara would forgive him for his behavior and let an old, foolish, lovesick man have another chance with the care of her heart. That thought excited him and discouraged him. She was a smart woman – brilliant, even. Even he knew that moving on was the best decision for her.

He glanced down at her hand again. Still bare. This was real – she really wasn't wearing her ring.

"What does the evidence tell you, Grissom?" Oh how he hoped she was talking about the case, but the upturned brow and the challenging tone of her voice told him otherwise.

"What?"

"Stop staring. It's not going to suddenly materialize - it's in Boise with the owner. You'd be pleased to know that you were right – the communication barrier proved to be a little too much."

Was he pleased? Yes. Was it right? No.

"How do you expect me to respond to that?"

"With honesty, what else?" She shook her head as if to rid herself of the sarcasm and anger. "You know, just forget it."

"You're upset."

"Jason and I have split up; it more than upsets me."

That statement was delivered softly with sadness and regret, and much to Grissom's dismay, it broke his heart. He didn't want her hurt. Not by him or by Jason – or anyone really.

"You want to grab some breakfast with me?" he asked, wincing at the incredulous look thrown his way.

"No."

"I didn't mean … I just-I thought you might need a friend."

She looked at him skeptically. "Are we friends?"

"We used to be. Do you think we could be friends?"

"How do you expect me to respond to that?" she challenged.

"With honesty, what else. Though, I would have to admit, I'm a little nervous by what your answer would be."

"Why would you be nervous?"

"Because I know I'm asking a lot." He was. He knew he was. Asking her for a stick of gum would be asking too much but he just wanted to be there – for her.

"I don't know, Grissom."

"Think about it. In the meantime, you can eat blueberry waffles while you're trying to ignore that I'll be eating steak and eggs."

He took her resigned sigh as a yes and guided her out of the building, ignoring the fact they still had an hour left of their shift. They silently agreed to walk to the diner, and Grissom strode beside her instead of behind. He felt as though a ceasefire had been called on the war they fought with each other and themselves. He may not have her in his arms as he did in his dreams, but he'll have her across a greasy table, sitting with him; spending time with him. For the first time in a long while, he just wanted to be her friend.

"It's going to rain – you can smell it," she said, crossing her arms and keeping her gaze toward her feet.

"I know."

"I didn't end it. Jason is the one who broke it off."

He wanted to ask what happened – why in the world Jason left her – but he couldn't. They just continued walking and he continued to wait. She would tell him when she'd be ready; he just hoped he'd be ready to hear what she had to say.

It was two whole blocks before he realized they passed the dinner, but still he walked with Sara, letting her determine how far they would go.

"He traveled too much. Him being away wasn't the issue – I'm used to my alone time. The problem was communication."

"Did he get you a TTY?"

"Two of them, actually. He bought me a portable one for my cell phone and a printable one for home." She paused, and Grissom could tell that she was wrestling the decision to continue. He wanted to be there for her but now wondered if he was the right person for the job. "Jason thought it would be great to have our conversations on paper, that way our relationship could be documented like one long love letter."

Now he really didn't want to talk. Thoughts of what their conversations were about flew through his head - they existed on paper - probably in a safe, sentimental place that was easily accessible. Like a book. He wondered if Jason gave her a piece of himself, disguised as an odontology book, just as he did when he gave her the entomology book. She probably had those conversations tucked in the book, ready to pull out and read when she missed him. And she did miss Jason: her body language and tone made that painfully obvious to him.

"I've been taking signing classes," she continued.

"I figured you would. How have you done with that?"

"Good. I still have a lot to learn. Um … anyway, there were some frustrations – coming from him, mostly. It's one thing to know the signs, and it's another to actually speak with them."

He could see where this was going. It was the same conversation his mom would have with him when he would visit. They would converse for roughly ten minutes before she would admonish him for not practicing and becoming rusty. Sara hadn't been signing for years like he had, the awkwardness of conversing was more than likely very apparent.

"Do you find time to practice?"

"Mostly just during class. Other than that, I'm either working or sleeping. I can't practice with Jason when he's across the country. He just … didn't think it was a priority with me; that I wasn't putting the effort that I should into it. And honestly, I wasn't. I should have made more time for it."

He should have been patient. He should have helped you.

Grissom wondered how Jason could love her and then sit there and watch her fail. He reminded himself that he didn't know the whole picture but couldn't help but feel a little anger towards Jason for letting her go. Jason had the gift of her love and gave it back. It was then that he realized that no one treated her gift properly. Not her parents, or Hank, or Jason, and more importantly – neither had he. In fact, the whole act of her still trying to love and be loved amazed him and, if at all possible, made him love her even more.

"What are you going to do?"

"Jason will be done with this series of seminars in six weeks. When he gets home, we're going to get together and see where we stand."

"Do you need any time off? Maybe you could go out there with him for a week or so." I can't believe I just offered that.

"I almost can't believe you offered that."

Laughing, he shrugged and shook his head. "You just read my mind."

"Thanks, but no. We need the space to think, to figure out what we want."

"What do you want?"

She laughed mirthlessly and Grissom understood immediately that it was probably the wrong question to ask. "I think that maybe I should try some reverse psychology with the fates. Seems lately that I'm not really meant to have what I want. So if I say, 'I don't want to work things out with Jason' will that mean he will arrive on my doorstep and we can start over?"

"Is that what you want?"

"What I want is to get it right for once."

Me too, Sara.

The air felt heavier than it did before. It was hard to say if it was the impending rain or if the weight of his heavy heart that constricted his lungs. They walked and walked, the dark storm clouds above them having nothing over the sky as the colors began to shift from a dark indigo to a lighter blue, the sun not too far behind.

She wanted to be with Jason and Grissom wasn't blind to the opportunity that he was presented with. He could help her get what she wanted. For once, he could make her happy even though this would be the death of him.

"I could help you."

"How do you figure?" she asked, doubtfully.

"We can work on your signing. You can practice with me."

The pause was just a little too long and Grissom could swear that he could hear both of their hearts beating.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Listen, you'll be helping me out, too. I also need the practice. According to my mother, my signing is crap," he said, shrugging his brows at his weak attempt at humor.

He watched as she considered his proposition and wondering what the hell he was thinking – he couldn't do this.

"Okay."

His eyes closed at her breathy response. He had hoped she'd turn him down and change her mind about her wants, but if he learned anything today, it was that those thoughts – those wishes and dreams – were futile.

"Good. Good," he said, clearing his throat, hoping that the slight crack in his voice went unnoticed. Turning his head away from Sara, he cursed the burn that was making its way up his chest and into his throat. Swallowing became difficult and so he opened his mouth and released the air from his lungs slowly.

"Thank you," she said, quickly tapping her hand on his elbow.

He could only nod, not trusting his vocal chords to cooperate. Hands in his pocket, he continued his pace beside Sara, afraid if he'd stopped walking he would crumble to the ground.

Mother-nature must have felt pity for him and cried the tears he couldn't. The rain started as the sun rose.

TBC