Sara had not a chance to see him again that evening. She was lucky that she was able to log her evidence and get home at four in the morning. It would be a quick nap, but a nap nonetheless. The lecture started at nine.

She awoke with a start at seven. Sara rubbed her weary eyes and stared at the clock as if it had the mysteries of the universe mastered. No reason to waste time. I'm just going to work and check on the cases before I head the campus. She pulled herself from bed and ambled blindly towards the shower.

Forty-five minutes later she was striding confidently into the SFPD Crime Lab. Her hair was still damp and curling up as she went. She busied herself checking on both the trace evidence from both cases and stopped her trek once she rounded the corner to peek in on the bugs.

An eyebrow automatically went up when she spied Grissom staring at a computer monitor and frantically scribbling notes in a journal. He was completely engrossed in his work. Sara stood silently at the doorway and watched him. When he pursed his lips in thought, Sara's heart started beating in her ears.

Grissom removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. Slowly, his eyes wandered over to the doorway. He gaze flicked over Sara, starting at her toes and working their way up her long legs and slowly up to meet her eyes. Electricity crinkled across the room.

"Who gets to yell at you when you're late?" Sara asked him finally.

"Huh?" Grissom stammered, looking at his watch, "Oh, uh, well... I think I have time to get there."

"I know you're addicted to your work, but I think we should leave now. Not sure when you were here last, but traffic is about to get pretty bad. That, and I'd like to stop for a cup of coffee on the way." She finished speaking and flashed the biggest smile he had seen up to that point.

Grissom dropped his pen on the desk and stopped the camera footage. That smile of hers was proving to be irresistible. "We? Coffee?"

"Yes, we. And, yes, coffee. You drink coffee, don't you? We're going to the same place, and I can function on low amounts of sleep, but only if I have a certain intake of coffee."

Grissom put the journal down on the table. One coffee might not kill him, right? He did want a cup of coffee before he started his day. "Ready when you are." Standing to leave, he picked up his journal and briefcase.

"There's a place on the way. I'll drive." Sara turned and was gone before he knew what hit him.

He narrowed his eyes and sprinted to catch up with her. "You're driving?"

"My, my, aren't you just full of questions this morning?" Sara rolled her eyes at him.

The drive to Starbucks was quiet. Sara repeated berated herself for her actions on the short drive. There was no reason why she was acting this way. Sure, she had flirted before, but never to this extent. He was a colleague, a respected man in his field, and leaving in a matter of days. It was harmless, she assured herself and promised herself she was just going to live and enjoy the moment for once in her life.

They went through the drive-thru and headed over to the college. Grissom was silently pleased that Sara had driven. She had been right about the traffic as it was a little daunting. She weaved through the cars on the freeway as if they were standing still. Sara pulled the car to a stop in a parking space with ten minutes to spare before class began.

Running over the case on the short walk into the classroom, they drew a few strange looks from other members of the class. Both were oblivious to the onlookers as the time passed until the room was filled with students ready for the lecture to begin.

Grissom, being well-versed in his lecture that he had given many times over, was forced to refer to his noted multiple times during the lecture. He carefully avoided the brunette's inquisitive eyes, knowing that he would lose track of what exactly he was saying.

She had asked a multitude of questions that were far too advanced for the lecture and went right over most of the students' collective heads. He had anticipated her eagerness and responded accordingly, answering without hesitation, anything she would ask.

Lunch was quick as they ate and rehashed some of the evidence in the case as well as further questions Sara had involving bugs in context with forensic evidence collection. Her utter fascination with the subject confused and excited Grissom to an extent that he had never been more amazed by anyone. Her quest and hunger for knowledge was intoxicating and tiring mixed deliciously together.

Most people he talked to, except his fellow entomological peers, were barely able to hold the façade that they were even remotely interested in what he did. This woman in front of him seemed not only interested, but fascinated by everything he had to say. Silently, he wished it was him and not his knowledge that she was interested in.

Grissom shook his head lightly on the way back to the classroom, trying to rid himself of the unprofessional feelings he was having about this blossoming CSI next to him. Her shoulder continuously brushed up against his, sending little electricity spikes throughout his body. She was absorbed in conversation, for that he was thankful, so she was unable to see the slight sweat that was forming around his hairline.

After class they drove quickly back to the lab, not wanting to waste a moment with the sensitive insect evidence. Briefly, they stopped at a fast food restaurant and picked up something to eat. Grissom had insisted on paying, but Sara had vehemently refused. She had literally picked his brain for information every single free moment they had and swore that she had to do something to repay him for the inconvenience.

In reality, it was a mix of wanting him close and wanting the information. He really piqued her interest when it came to physical and mental attraction. Sara was going to do everything in her power to keep him close to her for the time that he was in San Francisco, even if it was veiled in a work-related context.

Unbeknownst to Sara, Grissom was having the same thoughts. He was praying that her questions would not stop, and when they did, he was going to wrack his brain to think of some other expertise in the field to discuss with her. His time in San Francisco was going to be short, and he wanted to spend every moment there with her.

Sara got called out on another dead body that night and was unable to spend any time with Grissom. He was gone when she got back to the lab that night. Try as she might, the case had proved difficult to allow her back to the lab. The evidence was daunting, but had proved not to be too extremely difficult once she got her mind on the task at hand. It did, however, take her until three in the morning to finish. She was fast approaching maxing out on overtime, and it was only midway through the month.

She looked over his journal that was left lying on the counter. His handwriting was almost indecipherable, but endearing in the same instant. It was unique in its shorthand version of the complicated insect names she knew she would not even recognize if they were written out formally for her.

She tore herself reluctantly away from the book and walked dejectedly from the building. Sara felt it would have made her sleep just a little better if she could have seen him just one more time that evening. Then, she mused to herself that it may just have been a little harder to sleep because in just the short time they had been together he was becoming an all too constant in her thoughts.


"Four days approximately," Grissom stated in greeting as Sara came striding through the door of the layout room.

"Good morning, Sara. Good morning to you, too, Grissom," she muttered, looking pointedly at him.

"Not a morning person I see?" he quipped in response, raising a playful eyebrow.

Sara yawned, slurring her words, "Not before my coffee."

"Okay. Good morning, Sidle. Your DB's TOD is approximately four days ago based on the insect timeline I've recreated," he recited, his eyes on his notes.

"You sure?" she asked. At his mock hurt look she added, "Sorry. Just asking. I didn't mean to offend you." She grinned lightly in embarrassment.

"No offense taken." He smiled. "I've checked it a couple of times. I'm sure."

She held his gaze briefly before turning to head out the door. Sara called out over her shoulder, "C'mon, Grissom. Coffee and class awaits us."

He put the journal down with a smile and dutifully followed along. They went through the same routine as the day before. Sara drove them to Starbucks and then to the college. The lecture and lunch were also spent with her asking a plethora of questions ranging in complexity. The class, Grissom could tell, was slightly annoyed, but there was nothing he would do to rein her in.

The drive back to the lab was entirely too quiet. They both felt it was the end of their time together outside of class. Even if they had not spent the time together after classes the prior two days, they knew where the other was, what they were doing, and that they were close. Now, Grissom's work was done, and she had to go to work.

Parking the car, Sara stole a quick glance at Grissom. His lips were pursed in thought as he stared straight ahead at the building. His mouth slightly opened at one point as if about to say something, but he stopped short, pursing his lips again. Sara bit her lower lip, hating the uneasiness in her stomach. Both sat in the uncomfortable silence that had overtaken them.

"You want some company tonight?" he blurted out suddenly as Sara reached for the door handle.

"Huh?" Sara asked, knowing full well what he said, but unable to believe it.

"Well... I, um, was just wondering if... you, um..." he stammered like a schoolboy asking his first crush out on a date. He wondered just what had happened to his verbal skills in the matter of a few minutes alone with her and no work to discuss. "Well, I'm free, and I could help you out if you wanted." Grissom hated the pathetic almost pleading sound of his voice.

"I wouldn't want to impose. Don't you have other things to do tonight? Take in the sights? You can't have a vacation if you're in a Crime Lab while you're away from home." Sara was afraid to sound too hopeful at him being near her. The butterflies in her stomach were getting worse. Just the thought that he wanted to spend more time with her was pushing her over the edge.

"I'm a workaholic," he covered, "You said it yourself. Besides, I'm not on vacation. I'm here to lecture. I might as well make use of myself while I'm here." He paused briefly mulling over the rest of what she'd said. "You wouldn't be imposing. I offered, but it was presumptuous of me to assume you'd want someone standing over you. I'm quite sure you're capable to handle yourself at a crime scene."

"I—I wouldn't be... I didn't take it like that at all." Sara turned to face him. "I'd like the expertise that you could offer."

Finally, Grissom looked up from his hands. His smile was faint, but still there. And, it was enough to let Sara know that he was pleased to spend the time with her.

It was utterly amazing how two extremely intelligent and studied, yet socially inept, people could dance around the issue of mutual attraction as they had. It was the pretense of work that they needed for fear of what would happen when Grissom went home. It was a sad game of charades that they were playing by trying to hide the reasons they wanted to be together.


He stopped his movement around the room and let his eyes fall to a rest on the back of Sara's head. Grissom had been silent, wandering around the room, observing her and processing the room in his mind. It was amazing to watch her work because she was really in her element, completely absorbed in thought. She became so immersed with her tunnel vision, that he wondered if she was even aware of him being there, until she addressed to him, that was.

"Grissom, are you afraid to collect anything?" Sara called out to him.

"Um, no. I just thought I'd leave that up to you. I didn't want to intrude. I know that everyone has their own way to process," he explained. Although, he admitted to himself that her manner of processing was quite similar to his.

"This would go a whole lot faster if you'd help." Sara held up a pair of gloves to him. Seeing his raised eyebrow and hesitation she asked, "You afraid of being subpoenaed if this goes to trial?"

Her smile soothed the accusation as snatched the gloves playfully from her hand and replied, "No. Like I said, I just didn't want to interrupt."

Sara went back to work picking up pieces of glass under a window after thrusting a fingerprinting brush, fingerprint power, and lifting tabs towards him. She had not needed to point Grissom in the appropriate direction as he stood off to her side and printed the window above her.

After a couple hours of working, Grissom's cell phone rang. He was ungrateful for the offending object in his pocket as it interrupted their discussion of the most recent digest of Sara's favorite forensic magazine. Grissom was enthralled with her passion for the job.

"Grissom," he barked into the phone. Sara noted that he made no move to walk away as he took the call. His tone softened as he responded to the caller. "Um, no, I didn't... I'm sorry to have dropped all of that on you when I left, but... No, I'll be back on time... Friday just after the end of the lecture, but I'll be heading into work after getting off the plane... No, I know. We'll talk when I get back..." Grissom turned his back on Sara and spoke a little softer. "No, I said we'll talk when I get back. I'm not having this discussion with you over the phone... I'm busy right now. Breakfast Saturday morning at my place sounds fine."

He clicked his phone shut with a deliberate forcefulness. He would have loved to have been on a land line at that moment to slam it down. However, he settled with what he had available to him at that moment. The next time Catherine was near him at the lab, though, he was going to shut a door on her. He smiled at the thought.

"Girlfriend?" Sara asked him over her shoulder, immediately hating the jealous note in her voice. She was insanely glad she was facing a wall and not him as a blush crept across her face.

It was not Sara's place to ask him something like that, and was worried that Grissom might take offense to her having heard his conversation. If she had not been wearing latex gloves, Sara might have smacked herself on the forehead. Instead, she gave herself a mental whack to keep her mouth shut from then on.

"Um... it was... ah..." Grissom was dumbfounded. He had caught the slight tremor in Sara's voice when she asked, and he was rendered speechless at the possibility of what it could mean.

Sara turned around to him. "Sorry. I didn't mean to... um, the scene's done. We can take everything back to the lab." Her mouth gaped open as she sped from the room, her hands full of evidence and her case, and strode to her car.

Grissom grabbed the rest of the evidence he had collected and walked out behind her. He put everything into the backseat along with her items and climbed into the passenger seat. The drive was quiet – too quiet. Both of them were brooding as to what had happened after Grissom ended his call.

Sara parked quickly and grabbed everything, almost sprinting into the lab. Grissom knew he had to fix what had happened. He felt he needed appease her with an answer to let her know that she had done nothing wrong. Sara was not exactly owed an answer since it was his personal business, but he felt the need to give her one.

He caught up with her in one of the layout rooms. She had her back to him, not because she was angry, but because she was embarrassed.

"Sara—" he started.

"You don't need to say anything," Sara interrupted, "I apologize. That was really out of line. I had no reason to say that. It—It's really none of my business. I just opened my mouth before I even thought about it. I don't know you, and you don't know me, and... we're just different here, I guess. Not like we all know things about each other here at the lab, but we... joke about things... and..."

"You don't ever shut up, do you?" he joked and went on to explain, "Sorry. Look, that was a colleague of mine in Vegas. She was yelling at me because of a case we were involved in when I flew out here. She can't understand my notes. I left her with a guy in custody that we could only loosely tie to the case. We had twenty-four hours to hold him, and she's blaming me for his release."

Sara turned around to face him finally. "You didn't have to explain anything."

Grissom smiled at her. "No, I didn't have to. I wanted to." He paused and looked at the evidence laying on the table. "So, want to get to work?" He winked at her playfully.

The rest of the evening went well. Neither brought up the subject of the phone call again. They discussed the cases that Sara had been recently involved in. He gave her some pointers and helped her with a few leads. It was peaceful and exhilarating to have someone that she could converse with so easily about work. She loved her work and the people she worked with, but talking to Grissom was so different. He seemed to accept her views and was on the same wavelength in so many ways.

At midnight, with Sara's shift officially over, they called it a night and went their respective directions. Though both were loathe to admit it, they were thinking the same thing. Grissom was leaving Friday afternoon to go back to Vegas, and they would probably never see each other again. The hurt was more than either of them had experienced before.


On her way to the college for the lecture that morning, Sara stopped by the lab looking for Grissom. It was a long shot, she knew. It had not been a prearranged meeting on the other mornings, but Sara had almost planned on him being there. The layout rooms were only home to the regular CSIs that worked in the lab. Sadly, Sara drove alone from the building towards the college campus.

She stopped by Starbucks for her morning coffee. Impulse struck her as she was ordering, and she purchased one for Grissom as well. She ordered the same thing he had gotten the previous two days and smiled to herself when the server handed her the two cups. It might have seemed insignificant to anyone else, but Sara Sidle had never went this out of her way for anyone else before.

She walked into the classroom clutching the coffees as if her life depended on them getting delivered safely. Seeing that Grissom was on the phone again, Sara hung back in the doorway. As if Grissom felt her presence, he looked up and smiled at her. When he waved her over to him Sara's heart almost leapt out of her chest.

He finished the call quickly once she arrived at the front of the podium. "Good morning, Ms. Sidle," he teased her.

"Good morning, Dr. Grissom," she mocked him, holding one of the cups out towards him.

"I see you've already had your coffee this morning, and thank you. You didn't have to get this for me. I do appreciate it, though. I didn't have time to get any on my way in this morning."

She narrowed her eyes at him and smirked as she echoed his words of the night before. "No, I didn't have to. I wanted to."

Grissom tipped his head to the side and surveyed her for a moment. He opened his mouth to speak, but the sounds of impending students stopped his train of thought abruptly. It gave him a moment to consider what he was about to ask her. It had been so easy for him so many times before, but it was incredibly hard for him to ask Sara.

He knew why, though. There were a couple of reasons that stopped him from asking her to dinner. First, he was only here for one more day. Second, there was a tremendous age difference between them. Third, she looked like she was owed more than one dinner which could lead to more, but refer back to number one. Fourth, he felt something deep in his soul when he looked at her, but felt the impending vulnerability that would occur after that.

No, he could not ask her out to dinner. But, when Sara asked him over lunch, he found himself saying yes to her. It was ridiculous, he knew, but the simple one-word answer had fallen out of his mouth before he could even rationalize the question. She had merely just said that she was off on Thursday nights and wondered if he wanted to get a bite to eat as a thank you for everything he had done for her.

It was not a date, he kept telling himself. It could not be a date. It was just a dinner between two people that had worked together for a few days. She was a colleague. She was an incredibly intriguing, intelligent, and beautiful colleague. Something in his gut told him that it was a date even if his mind was screaming that it was not.

They drove over to the restaurant in their respective cars. It felt like less of a date for both of them if they arrived separate, even if they would walk in together. It was a nervous adventure for both of them, but they were equally trying to be casual about it.


"So, do you get to San Francisco often?" she asked at a lull in the conversation while they were waiting on their desert to arrive.

"Not much, really. I've been here a few times for lectures, but not in quite a few years. Work takes up a lot of my time. It's hard to get away when you have a team of people depending on you," he admitted solemnly.

"You know the people here at the Crime Lab. You must've spent some time here at some point." Sara continued to dig for more information to get to know this enigmatic man in front of her. She wanted to get to know him as much as he would allow her in the little time left that they were afforded together.

"I have been called in to consult on a few cases over the years. The occasional instance where the crime was horrific enough to warrant an immediate response. Mostly when I've been in town already and the circumstances presented themselves, however." He watched her toying with her coffee cup in thought.

"Like this time?" she asked, stating the obvious.

"Mm-hmm."

Fate really threw Sara Sidle a curve ball when Gil Grissom was brought into her life. He was unabashedly good-looking, extremely intelligent, had a wry sense of humor, had the same work ethic, and, most of all, he understood her job. Never once had she really ever allowed herself to envision that someone would come along with each and every one of those qualities.

Since she was a child, Sara had resigned herself to believing that she would be alone, save the off chance she would find someone to share a few months with at a time. She had spent enough time alone during her years growing up, that she assumed that was the way she would spend the rest of her life. Admittedly, it was sometimes lonely, but it was safer that way.

If she let no one in, there was no way she could get hurt. With each relationship she had had in the past, when it became remotely clear that it was progressing too far, Sara instinctively cut all ties with that person. She would find fault in anything just to get away. There was no way she could see herself opening up to someone else and sharing her life with them – not now, and absolutely not forever.

She had her books, her brains, and her job. That would be enough to sustain her – it had to be. It certainly had been enough to get her through her young years, and it was what got her to where she was at that point in her life. No personal entanglements to get in the way of her job, her devotion, and her goals. Ten years of promising herself that did nothing to dispel the feeling of hope when it came to the blue-eyed man drinking coffee with her.

"So," he asked, "what made you choose Criminology as your profession?"

Sara eyed him suspiciously over the rim of her coffee cup. She had been sipping the hot liquid absentmindedly as her mind wandered over the random thoughts scattered through her weary mind. It was in moments like this that she reminded herself why she preferred the dead over the living. People always had questions. They never got past the blood and gore that a CSI would have to endure day in and day out.

This was generally the point in a date that she would make a decision that there would be no future dates with that person. All too often she had been criticized for her career choice. People never understood why she wanted to make the world a safer place, give her life meaning, give some peace back to the world, and try to help those who never had a chance to help themselves. That was only part of the truth. She never told people the honest to God truth as to why she got into this profession.

That would be something she could not share with anyone. There was no way she could ever explain that your past makes you who you are. There was no way she could force someone to understand that she felt guilty for her parents' bouts with the law. It would be impossible for people to fathom that she only wanted to make herself whole by helping other innocent victims.

But, this was not a date, she reminded herself, and malice did not show in his eyes when he posed the question. He appeared sincere. He had probably been asked that question many times in his past. It was a fair question in this instance, she determined finally. He seemed actually interested in her response, maybe actually intrigued. Still, there was something holding her back.

Trust was not easily won by Sara Sidle. She used that daily when interviewing suspects, and it became her best asset in many ways. She did not believe herself naïve enough to trust people by instinct. This man seemed harmless enough, but he was still a man, and she had been hurt by the first man in her life. She would test the waters with him.

She gave him her patented and empty answer to see his reaction. "To help people." Her eyes diverted themselves and never left the swirling liquid in front of her.

"You could help people working in a homeless shelter. So, why this?" Grissom's eyes never left her face, watching for her reaction.

She looked up sullenly, meeting his gaze. "I want to help people who can no longer help themselves," she relented. It was the partial truth.

"The dead can no longer talk. Be the victim's last voice. It's admirable." He looked deeply into her eyes.

There was something off, but Grissom was unwilling to push her to talk unless she was ready. Sara was young and idealistic but also deep and understanding. If only he could bottle that and pull it out when cases got the better of him.

Would he still think it was admirable if I told him that I am only trying to make peace within myself? Sara knew she was unable to change what had happened to her and pushed herself to find closure for people that needed it the most.

Maybe it was possible after helping thousands of victims she could finally forgive her father for beating her and her mother. Maybe after a thousand more she could forgive her foster brother for beating her when she told his family that he had marijuana under his bed. Maybe a few thousand after that she could forgive her mother for choosing the path of killing her father.

Sara searched his eyes. A feeling of being naked and vulnerable under his gaze flickered through her body. For the first time since they met, Sara felt like telling him everything, and it was completely foreign to her. Never had she wanted to release her secrets and skeletons to anyone.

She cleared her throat and looked slightly uncomfortable. "Um, thanks."

Another expanse of quiet enveloped them as their desert arrived. Thankful for the distraction, they both resorted to shoveling apple pie into their mouths rather than talking further. Finally, Sara's thoughts became too much for her.

"Do you think this is a good career choice?" she asked.

"Mmm?" Grissom asked through a bite of the pie.

"I mean... um, I don't really know what I mean. Never mind." Sara frowned and resorted back to eating her pie.

Grissom placed his fork down on his plate. "If you're asking me in generality, I would say that it's up to each individual to make a decision for themselves as to whether they can perform the job duties. It's a tough decision, and one that not a lot of people can endure on a daily basis. It's not easy and it's sometimes tedious, and it's really affecting sometimes. But, you already know all of that."

He studied her across the table for a moment. Sara was staring at her almost empty plate. "So, if you're asking me about you, personally, I would have to say that you would need to ask yourself that more than me. However, I've seen you work, and in the little time we've spent together, your work is exemplary. Your dedication is tremendous. Your work ethics is extraordinary. In my time in this field, I've not come across anyone that has so far surpassed my expectations... until now."

Sara took a chance and looked up into his eyes. What she saw there was almost unsettling. He looked raw with emotion. It was strange for her to want someone to tell her that she was doing a noble thing or to make her believe she had chosen the appropriate career path in her life. Never once had she wanted or needed an atta-girl, but Gil Grissom was different. She had already decided that early on, but it was scary for her to realize she wanted his approval.

Her cell phone rang then, at the most inopportune of moments. Sara snatched it up quickly, looking apologetic. "Sidle."

Grissom watched her listening intently to the person on the other end of the phone. Her facial features were animated as she took in everything being said. He felt himself smiling, seeing the different emotions play across her face. This would be another of those moments he would catalogue in his mind for later review once he arrived safely at home to his lonely townhouse.

An eyebrow shot up unexpectedly as she started talking. "What? When? … That's awesome. I'll be right there." She clicked the phone shut.

Immediately her face went blank and then formed a frown. "Oh, God, I'm sorry. I..."

"It's okay. It's the job. Something good I assume?" He continued to smile at her.

"Yeah—Yes. They arrested someone linked to a cold case I've been working on. I can't believe it. I've been waiting for this for a while. I can't believe it's happening. Dumbass apparently decided tonight was the night to pick a fight with a vending machine at a store, and his prints match my crime scene. I need to go get his DNA." Sara's voice rose with each syllable as the happiness at catching a potential killer took over her entire body.

Reality struck Sara in that instant. This would be their last time alone together. She would have the next day with him in the lecture, but then he was getting on a plane and heading back to Vegas and away from her permanently. Her stomach lurched with the sudden sadness of it.

"I can get someone else to take the DNA," she mumbled, reaching for her phone.

"No, no, if it's your case, you go and do it. I'm sure you worked your ass off it. So, you go bring the case home."

Sara's indecision still weighed heavily on her. The case had been hanging over her head for weeks with nothing to show for it until now. How could she just walk away from him when this was the last time they would be alone together? Grissom saw the dilemma in her eyes as much as he felt it in himself.

"Do you want me to..." Grissom started to ask her if he could come along.

"I wouldn't dream of making you do that... You've got to get ready... to, uh... to go tomorrow after the seminar." Sara looked sheepishly at her hands for a moment as she rose from her seat.

"Yeah, I've got to pack," he replied dejectedly, getting up from the booth himself. He knew it was the smartest move to make. They needed to break ties, and he needed to get his emotions in check. Getting more involved with Sara Sidle could be his downfall.

There was the awkwardness again. It settled over them like a soggy blanket, ruining their entire evening together. They stared at each other for a long minute. Sara thrust her hand out clumsily towards Grissom. He glanced down at her hand before offering his back.

"Thank you for everything, Grissom," she said quickly, grabbing the check off of the table.

"You're welcome. Let me get that, Sara." He reached out towards her hand for the check.

"No. It was my treat. I asked you here. I really appreciate everything. Really." She walked towards the register of the small diner. "But, I've got to go if I'm going to take care of this."

Grissom watched her drive away. A little piece of him died when her car disappeared out of sight. He knew their time together was over. Sara Sidle had captured part of his soul – a part that he knew he would never get back.


To Be Continued...