Title: Last Chance - Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I didn't own then an hour ago. And I don't own them now. Don't sue.

Authors' note: This ones a little longer. I think I was looking at this chapter too when I said 15 was gonna be long.I didn't see I'd marked an end to a chapter...Sorry! Anyway. R&R. You all that have, I love you. :) Ok maybe not love, but I really appreciate it! Enjoy! Oh, and about the smell . . . I read somewhere that humans give off a pheromone. And that the person you are supposed to be with, is attracted to yours. The way it smells. Hope that explains it . . . Sorry I'm such a nerd.

Grissom closed his eyes as Sara settled against him. Now that smell, that wonderful, delightful, intoxicating smell was all around him. The warmth of her body pulling him toward sleep. It had been a long time since sleep had called for him before he called for it. But he didn't want to sleep yet. He wanted to savor this moment. Permanently imprint it on his brain. Never before had he been so peaceful. Never before had he seen Sara so peaceful. He knew this was where he was supposed to be. Her body relaxed against him and her breathing evened out. Asleep.

He just couldn't get over the fact that Sara - his Sara - had forgiven him. That she had let him stay. That she had wanted him to stay. He'd done nothing but break her heart for six years. Yet here she was, nestled against him. She felt so natural against the contours of his body. Like she belonged there. Like she was made to be there.

Sleep was overpowering him now and he rested his head against her, took a deep inhale of that sweet smell, and closed his eyes. Within seconds Gil Grissom was sleeping.

Grissom awoke the next morning without opening his eyes. His first thought was that he wasn't at home. Wrong bed, wrong smell, familiar smell. Second thought - he was wearing pants . . . that alone was strange enough. Third thought - he was alone. For a split second he couldn't figure out why he thought that was wrong.

Then as he opened his eyes he remembered. Sara - it hadn't been a dream. Or a sleep deprived hallucination. He was in her bed. Alone . . . where was she? He reached a hand out and touched the sheets where she had laid. Cold. He sat up. She had to be around here somewhere. It was her apartment after all.

He got out of the bed and gathered his belongings. As he was putting his things back into his pockets, he noticed things he hadn't the night before. Sara's things. Strewn across the dresser. A picture of her as a child, with both parents and her brother. They looked happy. Apparently pictures could lie.

Sara had been an adorable child. Dark hair in pigtails, big brown eyes, freckles, and a lopsided smile that just showed off the gap between her teeth that made her smile hers. Grissom picked up the frame, touching Sara's face with his fingertip. He smiled as he set the photo down again.

He picked his shirt up off the floor and shook it out. He slipped it on, leaving the cuffs undone and the front open. Running his hand through his hair, he hopelessly tried to tame the curls that he knew to be sticking up all over his head. He grabbed his shoes off the floor letting them dangle from his fingertips. He left the bedroom calling Sara's name as he shut the door behind him. No answer. He set his shoes down in the hall and went to use the bathroom. When he exited a few minutes later, his hair was sink wet, and temporarily tamed.

He could smell coffee so he went straight for the kitchen. "Sara..?" Still no response. He was starting to worry until he saw the note propped against the coffee pot. His name was scrawled across the front in Sara's handwriting. He set it on the table and went in search of a coffee cup. He found one in the drainer by the sink.

He wasn't quite comfortable enough in her home to go in search of something to eat for breakfast so he grabbed an apple from the dish on the counter. He actually wasn't hungry . . . he was just avoiding reading that letter. Fear had been instilled in him from the moment he saw it lying there. Nothing good ever came from a letter 'left' for you to find.

He had always figured himself for the one who would panic and leave that first morning. That he would be the one filled with dread and just up and leave. He never once had played out the scenario of Sara leaving. "Just read the damn letter Gil . . . " he muttered to himself.

He sighed as he sat down. He took a drink of the coffee and unfolded the letter. Putting both arms on the table, he read . . .

Grissom,

I figured since I was up anyway I would spare us both the awkwardness of 'the next morning'. But I want to thank you. For being here. I slept last night like I haven't since I was a little girl. No nightmares. You kept them all away.

It was wonderful waking up next to you. Did you know you snore? Or that your hair sticks up in tufts? It's cute. I don't regret it Griss. I never will.

I left a key on your ring for you. Please lock up when you leave. Turn off the coffee pot, and throw the apple core in the trash.

I took a cab to get my car, then I'm going to the hospital to see Maddie before they release her into the system.

I didn't leave you Gil. I'll meet you for dinner at noon. At the diner.

Sara

Grissom smiled as he reread it. He slipped his shoes on and filled his cup one more time before flipping off the pot. Taking the final bite of the apple he threw it into the trash can.

He was tempted to just stay in Sara's home and enjoy being surrounded by everything that was hers. But, he glanced at his watch, he had just over two hours before he had to meet her. He had enough time to go home, grab a shower, and a change of clothes. And, he thought as he ran his hand over his face, a trim.

He pulled his keys from his pocket and flipped through them. Sara had marked hers with an 'S' written in marker.

He walked through her apartment again flipping off lights. As he walked to his car, he marveled at how well Sara knew him. He'd thought he'd hidden himself so well from her for all these years. But she probably thought she'd hidden herself pretty well from him too.

As he drove to his apartment, he thought back to the words he'd said the night before. The words she'd said. The overpowering urge to give in when he'd kissed her. Like he'd had no control over himself at all. How she'd tasted. Like toothpaste . . . and something else . . . something sweeter, something he imagined was just how she tasted . . . because he couldn't quite figure out what it was. How right it had felt as she had fallen asleep in his arms. How soundly he'd slept. Like the devil himself couldn't have woken him. Considering the job he had and the hours he kept, he always thought he'd slept pretty well. Until he'd slept next to Sara.

He pulled up outside his home and went inside. His home was so different then hers. Full of sharp edges, glaring lights, white walls . . . Cold almost. Arctic compared to Sara's. Her apartment was soft. Lived in. Warm lighting. Her walls had personality.

He glanced at his watch as he took it off. An hour and a half until he was with her again. Looking around that hour and a half seemed years away. He couldn't wait to be surrounded by her warmth again.

To Be Continued . . .