PART TWO OF TWO, DEDICATED TO MY SMALL, BUT DETERMINED, FANBASE. WHO KNOWS, MAYBE THERE'LL BE ANOTHER CHAPTER. I DON'T ACTUALLY SIT DOWN WITH A SOLID PLAN ON WHAT I'M GOING TO WRITE - I KNOW HOW I WANT THE STORY TO GO, BUT I DON'T MIND WHERE IT GOES BEFORE IT GETS THERE. ENJOY!

Grissom studied Sara's profile as they sat in the hospital waiting room. The atmosphere was as tense as that of the ER room, but without all the chaos. Grissom studied the people scattered about before him, some on their own, some with mothers or fathers or husbands or sons or lovers, and he wondered what people would read into him sitting next Sara. He sneaked another furtive glance at her out the corner of his eye.

"You wanna ask something?" she croaked, her throat dry from not speaking in a while. She leaned back slightly, relieving the pressure on her back that resulted from her hunching forwards. He hands were clasped in front of her, and Grissom had a fleeting recollection of taking her home after the DUI.

"I don't know," he confessed, caught off-guard by her sudden question.

She rolled her eyes, infuriated, but not surprised by his lack of words. Actually, that was inaccurate. He knew what to say. Or, at least, in his head, he knew what to say. She could see that when they had her post-PEAP counselling session. He just floundered because he wasn't sure how to word things in a way that wasn't cautious, or measured. "Sure you do. You just don't know how to say it."

Grissom's cheeks flushed slightly at her accurate observation. "How are you feeling?"

"Nervous? Anxious? Or maybe I'm secretly pleased that this has happened." Her gaze shifted from her hands to her feet.

"Really?" Again, the biologist, maybe even the anthropologist within Grissom (although she didn't see him ever using that as a career - he may be able to analyse people, but God help him if he were ever in the position to get close to them) reared its head. Again, she got the feeling that she was simply a philosophical puzzle to this man, an enigma to be solved.

Sara raised her eyes to his, challenging him boldly, daring him to want to know the answer, and also knowing that it might just freak him out ever so slightly. "The morbid, self-destructive, attention-seeking narcissist within me has surfaced. I can be nice to you, I can touch your cheek, I can put a blanket around your shoulders, I can do any number of things in that same vein for you, but I only really get your attention when you think you might lose me." She paused, studying his expression.

His jaw had tightened, his knuckles too, getting bleached of their colour. It had never occurred to him that it was only when she was in danger or turmoil that she needed him. "The Shelton case? Being insubordinate to Ecklie? Your DUI? The explosion? Now?" Despite his tense exterior, he admirably managed to control his voice.

"My need for you doesn't just switch off when I'm not having any problems," she whispered frankly, eyes darting about the waiting room. Damn it and hurry up so I can get out of here.

"Yeah, but if there's nothing wrong with you, then I have no excuse to care." Grissom measured his breathing, trying to remain calm, and not get swallowed in the impulse to do something irrational and spontaneous and ...

"You don't need an excuse," she interrupted.

"I do, otherwise any other action on my part could be seen by someone as sexual harassment or inappropriate behaviour. At least no-one will suspect anything if there's a reason behind why I'm so concerned."

"Sara Sidle?" A doctor (dressed in a white coat) stood by the door of the room, holding a clipboard and scanning the patients with eyes looking over the top of her glasses.

Sara nodded and put her hands on her knees, pushing herself up. Just as she went to approach the doctor, Grissom reached out and took her wrist. For a moment, he marvelled at its delicate structure, thin and gentle and vulerable, just like Sara.

"You want me to come in with you?" he asked softly.

"Griss, they're gonna be ... you know ...". She really dind't want to discuss this with Grissom.

"I know," he grinned, then straightened his face. "No, I mean, you want me to hold your hand or anything? In case it hurts," he added quickly.

"I'll be fine."

Sara left the room gingerly, her chest hurting from the needle they had inserted into the soft tissue around her breast. The doctor had assumed that due to its painful nature, the lump was most likely a symptom of mastitis, and her put Sara on medication for the disorder while they waited for the blood results to come back. "I shouldn't worry, Ms Sidle," the white coat had said. "Ninety-nine percent of the time, a painful lump is not cancer, and you don't have a history of it in the genetics, so I'm pretty sure you'll be okay."

Grissom rose to his feet anxiously as Sara came back in. "Is everything okay?" he asked, his brows knitting together, looking all intense and ... Grissom-like.

Sara managed a smile. "Just a bit painful from the needle, the effects last for a day or so. They think it's mastitis, but they still took a blood sample to be on the safe side. I've gotta come back in a week to get my results." They left the building, walking slowly and contemlatively back to Grissom's Denali. "It's okay, now," she said. "Scare's over. You don't need to pay me any attention now," she added, her voice suffused with a hint of bitterness. "I can get a cab back."

"You know I wouldn't let you do that," Grissom commented plainly, holding the passenger door open for her. "I'll stay with you for half an hour or so, just make sure you definitely are okay."

Sara's nostrils flared slightly, not much given how small they were. "I said I'm fine. You can go."

Grissom started the engine, pulling the car into gear with one powerful hand. "And I said that I'd stay with you. Besides, we both know you want me to stay. Hell, we both know I want to stay."

Sara's mouth dropped in shock, and a twisted satisfaction, although there was no hint of this on her features. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"Shh, we can discuss back at your place. Taking about issues such as this when I'm driving a car probably isn't the best policy for getting from a to b in one piece."

Although Sara's tongue was burning and heaving with so many questions, she restrained herself. She watched as Grissom set himself down on her couch, and it reminded her of last time. Last time. "Can I get you a drink?" she asked, managing to shake herself out of her reverie.

Grissom's brow lowered in some sort of amusement. "I don't suppose you have any whiskey?"

"Straight or on the rocks?" Whether he believed it or not, she could put her liquor away. But, of course, she'd tamed her intake after the DUI, but that didn't mean she didn't still enjoy a glass now and again.

"Uh, straight, please," Grissom answered in bewilderment.

She returned from the kitchen with two tumblers, handing one to Grissom. She took up position next to him, sitting on the edge of the couch. "Okay, what are you saying?"

Grissom shrugged, savouring the sweet woodiness, the deep, complex texture of the whiskey on his tongue and lips. "We both know I've waited long, too long, to do something 'about this.' And what you said made me realise that certain truths ... things about myself that I'd rather not have confronted."

Sara looked at his face. The blue eyes were not seeking out hers, the gentle brows pushing themselves so far over his eyes that they threatened to engulf them completely. "Like what?"

Grissom shrugged. "My sadistic streak. The need for control that I have, but wished I didn't have. The fact that I have treated you in such an abhorrent manner," he spat out.

Sara took a deep breath. Now or never. "Grissom?"

He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head sideways to look at her. "Hmm?"

"Would you like to ...?"

"Have dinner with you? Yes."

"That's, uh, that's not what I had in mind." She absent-mindedly ran a finger around the rim of her glass.

"Okay. What then?"

"Would. You. Like. To. Make. Love. To. Me?" She closed her eyes in embarrassment, trying to avoid his curious gaze.

"Um ... I'm flattered that you've asked that ...".

"But?"

"But what happens when we wake up? Because I won't be able to pretend nothing happened. And it will hurt if you do. I mean, what will you think when you wake up in my arms and see me there in the cold light of day, greying, stocky, old ...".

Sara stifled a laugh. "Why are you being so dramatic? And why are you being so self-deprecatory? What's making you so insecure?"

"I'm not good enough for you," he answered, matter-of-factly.

"I think 'm the person to make that evaluation. I think you're very good for me."

"I should get a say in the decision, too. I care about you, I don't wanna see you get hurt."

Sara rolled her eyes. "Maybe you should have said that sooner, 'cause right now, the hurt I've felt for three or four years is telling me that what you just said is bullshit."

"I care," he repeated.

"That's it?"

"Hell no. I more than care. But with the sort of relationship we have, my feelings, both emotional and south-pointing ...".

Sara smiled.

"Are inappropriate."

"Really? How so?"

"If you want something more, you gotta tell me."

"Fine then." She reddened slightly. "You wanna how inappropraite my feelings are? I keep having this fantasy about you and me in a shower, together, washing off a decomp with lemon juice. Every time I smell lemons now ..." she trailed off, not sure where to look.

Grissom swallowed, feeling his heartbeat rev aggressively. "I think an awful lot about that limo we processed. You know, when you got angry at being passed over for the promotion? I can't say exactly what happens, but let's say it's very inappropriate."

"So?"

"I want to make love to you," he whispered hoarsely."

"I'm all yours."

TBC

WHAT DID I SAY? I THOUGHT I MIGHT HAVE TO CONTINUE THIS. THAT MEANS THERE'S PROBABLY ONE MORE CHAPTER LEFT.