Two months later

"Gil, we need you to sit in on the interrogation." Brass popped his head around Grissom's office door, setting off the singing fish.

Grissom looked up from a manilla file and frowned in interest, removing his glasses. "Why? Is there a problem? I thought Sara was doing the interrogation."

Brass rolled his eyes. "Which is why I'm askig you to sit in. The dude's a serial rapist, he's either gonna go for her, or she'll go for him." He hadn't finished the sentence before Grissom had jumped and barged out of the room.

"What are you doing here?" Sara asked as she sensed Grissom come up behind her. She was staring through the one-way mirror, eyes skimming over the muscle-bound, tattoo-inked, shaven-headed man sitting in a plastic chair.

"Brass told me you were going to be interrogating Davis. He asked if I'd sit in with you." He stood very close behind her, so close that he could feel their clothes making contact. He wanted to hold her, to protect her in some way - she was still so fragile after her abortion, and they hadn't made love since the procedure, he had only held her close to him at night - but he daren't. She didn't need to face an emotional deluge from him. So instead he stood by her silently for a few seconds, then placed his hand on the small of her back. "Ready?" The word was not much more than a gentle breath of wind passing between his lips.

Sara's head turned in his direction ever so slightly, but she didn't look at him directly. "Yeah," she answered. She gathered herself, grasping the file in her hand a shade tighter. She removed herself from his comforting hand, and walked confidently into the interrogation room. Grissom heaved a sigh, and followed her cautiously.

Davis looked up from the table to see the two criminalists enter the room, and cracked his knuckles by way of greeting. The woman ... not the sort of woman he would necessarily go for, but ... and the guy? The guy sat in the far corner of the room, blue eyes burning intently, glasses folded in his hands. The way he kept looking over at the woman suggested to Davis some sort of relationship beyond colleague status. "What can I do for ya?" Davis asked, leaning back in the chair.

Sara took a seat, and snuck a look over at Grissom, who nodded, barely. She turned back to Davis and flipped open the file. "I'm sure you've been informed why you're here," she said, voice cold and harsh.

He could tell straight away that this was one of those feminist chicks, totally against men like him. If it were up to women like her, he would be hanging by his balls now. "Where were you on the night in question, when Sandy Wilson was raped and murdered?"

Davis shrugged. "At some bar or other on the Strip," he grunted. "Why? You think I had sum'in to do with it?"

"Well, not wanting to point fingers, but DNA we extracted from Sandy, both semen and skin under her nails, tells us you were with her."

Davis smiled. "Oh, she the blonde chick? Yeah, we had sex," he grinned menacingly. "She got a bit wild, y'know? Bit of a handful, scratched my back to shreds."

"Oh, I'm sure," Sara replied drily.

"Yeah, so am I," he spat. "But she's not my type, yeah? I prefer darker ones," he added, looking Sara up and down in an extremely unsavoury fashion.

Grissom jaw clenched, and he tried to keep the anger out of his voice. "Whilst I believe that sexual intercourse took place, Mr Davis," he said, ever-reasonable, "I don't believe it was consensual. You see, the coroner found abnormal tear marks in her vagina, not consistent with consensual, even rough, sex. They happened to be more consistent with rape."

Sara shot Gil a dangerous look, then faced Davis. "What have you got to say for yourself?"

"To be quite honest, nothing. Couldn't give a shit either way. Got nothing aside from DNA to prove I murdered her. How do you know the sex wasn't really rough? Then again, maybe I did do it." He replicated the look he had previously given Sara. "You remind a bit of her. Tough. Independent. Bet you've got that shrill voice, too." Grissom's blood ran cold, and he employed as many calming exercises as possible to keep him from pulling out his gun and popping the guy there and then. Davis shot him a look. "Does she scream?" he asked, leering. "Does she beg you to stop? I bet she can get really rough. Probably doesn't like it when you get too dominant, does she? In fact, I bet she's just your bitch. A filthy, dirty bitch."

That did it. Grissom couldn't listen to the guy any more. He whipped his gun from his hip holster and slowly appraoched Davis, jamming the nuzzle up against his throat. The police officer in the room made to stop Grissom, but Grissom put his hand up to halt him. "Another word like that about any single one of my co-workers, and I'll put you in a fucking coma. Got it?"

For the first time in the whole interrogation, Davis look scared. He swallowed. "Seems like you got all the evidence you need to put me away," he grunted. Grissom stepped back and motioned for the police officer to come forward.

"Get this bastard out of my sight, before I change my mind," he mumbled. The police officer cuffed him, read him his rights, and stood him up.

Sara turned around to see Grissom turn on his heel and stalk from the room.

She followed him along the corridor, and caught up with him, reaching for his hand. "Honey," she whispered. "You okay?"

Grissom just turned to look at her, and motioned for her to come into his office. He took a seat on his office couch. Sara sat in one of the other chairs.

"What was that about?" she asked, concerned. Never had she seen Grissom in such a ... scary ... light.

"He ... the way he spoke about you ... like he'd do to you what he's done to other women. I ... he scared me, Sara," he whispered, staring at the floor under his feet. His head snapped up, and his blue eyes penetrated hers. "I want you to know that I would never do anything like that. I love you, I'd never hurt you," he told her earnestly.

Sara smiled back sincerely. The words Davis had spoken, like so many others that men had said to her over the years, just washed over her. She was more concerned about Gil. "I know you'd never hurt me." She looked at the clock on the office wall. "Fifteen minutes to the end of shift, then we can go home," she reassured him. He simply nodded.

"Babe, you coming to bed?" Sara was snuggled up under the covers, watching Grissom undress. The desire for him burned in her, between her thighs, in her stomach - everywhere.

"Just let me finish here," he insisted, pulling off his trousers. He glanced over at the figure lying in their bed, and he automatically felt her lust transfer from her to him. Discarding his clothes so that all he was wearing was a pair of boxer shorts, he crawled over the bed covers to Sara's supine form. His face level with hers, he kissed her tenderly.

Sara deepened the kiss, pulling him full on top of her body. She ran her fingers through his grey curls, savouring the feel of his body, of his warmth - a feeling she had missed despite him holding her every night as they fell asleep. She moaned against his mouth, holding him down on her firmly.

"Sara?" he asked against her mouth.

"Hmm?"

"Are you sure?"

"Two months, Gil two months. This has happened the past three times I've wanted you, and I need you in me."

"I don't want it to be too early, you're still recovering, honey," he whispered, his breath gently caressing her neck. "I'm scared of hurting you," he admitted.

"Gil, we've waited long enough. I need you, right now. Hard." And she could tell he wanted her. He had quite quickly hardened against her body, hard enough so that she felt his arousal, even with the duvet between them. Seeing the hesitation, she - wrongly - urged him on. She put her mouth to his ear. "Make me yours, Gil. Take me hard, Griss, I'm your bitch."

Grissom stopped dead, losing his erection instantaneously. Davis's words echoed in his ears, and he pulled himself from Sara, getting off the bed and making for the door.

Oh, shit, Sara thought. Wrong move. Clambering out of bed, she wrapped herself in robe and went in search of her lover. She found him standing on the balcony with a glass of scotch. "Honey, I'm sorry," she mumbled, reaching for his hand.

He turned to her, taking a sip from his glass. "No. I am," he said mournfully. "I should have relinquished earlier. I shouldn't have put it off."

"Gil, you were only doing what you thought was right. I shouldn't have pushed you. I shouldn't have said those things." She was cold, and she wrapped her arms around her body.

Grissom sighed harshly and put an arm around her, leading her back inside. "Come on, honey, before you catch your death," he whispered tenderly.

"I know you wouldn't hurt me," Sara stated simply. She looked into his eyes. "That was biology talking, sheer animalism. I love you Gil, I trust you implicitly."

Grissom nodded, and placed a kiss on her cheek. "I know," he whispered. "But ... I make love. I don't fuck, and what you asked of me ... it was akin to fucking."

"How about you take me back in there and show me, then," Sara pleaded. "I want you. After today, after two months - I want to feel you in me."

Grissom cocked an eyebrow. "How?"

Sara's eyes lowered. "However you want me. Like I said, I trust you."

Grissom kissed her tenderly, and pulled her body to him. "Come on then. Let me make love to you."

Sara looked at the peacefully-sleepig body laying next to her. He looked like an angel. An angel without wings, here to protect her. She traced her fingers over his muscled biceps. Oh, how tender he'd been last night. He may have had an awful lot of anger stored up within him, but he never showed that side of himself to her. He had been so gentle when they made love, still worried he would be placing unnecessary strain on her after the D and C. Every time he had made a move in her, be it with his tongue, his hand or his mouth, he had looked to her, making sure he was gentle. She had urged him on, and altough he hadn't been as forthcoming as he normally was, her orgasm had been even more intense than usual. How she loved him. She placed a kiss on his shoulder and watched his eyes flutter gently.

"Hey," he mumbled groggily. "Sleep well?"

"Mmmm. Thank you," she said, smiling.

"I aim to please," was his reply. He reached over and stroked her arm. "You know I love you, right?"

"Yeah. And I love you too, babe." She snuggled in his arms. "I'm sorry I asked of you what I did."

"That's okay. I'm sorry for not being man enough to be able to give you what you wanted."

Sara laughed and looked in the direction of his crotch. "Oh, honey, you're more than able. You're highly skilled in pleasuring me. I understand what my words did to you, though. I shouldn't have goaded you."

"That's okay. Looks like we're both equal. I love you."

"I love you too. Go back to sleep."