A/N Thanks so Michelle and Jennifer for the great beta work. Also if you have been reading and have not left a note or review. I would love to hear from you.

Sara

Last night was bad. We left the restaurant and went home. He went to his office. I went to the loft. When I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer, I snuck into what I thought was an empty bed only to find Gil had somehow slipped in without my hearing him leave his office. I could tell he wasn't asleep.

I was feeling guilty and remorseful, 'cause really it was my fault. Gil didn't do anything. I mean, the poor guy just wants to take me on a nice trip for my birthday. I still don't' know how he knew about the date, but I don't know how Gil knows half the things he does.

The point is, all of my birthdays have been crap since I was six years old, and to go from crap to tremendous just plain freaks me out. He showed me the boat he wants us to take out there. It's called the Lazy Dazy and it takes about three hours to get there that way. Gil said we could get there quicker but he thought I would enjoy the boat better. And, well, he's right it looks really cool.

It only takes about 20 people per excursion, so there's probably lots of mingling with the other couples. I'd psyched myself up for the ballet in a few weeks. We only had to be with other people for the 45 minute mixer before and the 20 minute intermission. But this was a lot more time, and a more intimate setting. And well, I just don't know what to say to people that live that kind of life. I mean, they're going to ask me all kinds of questions and will want to know what I do for a living. I don't want to tell them I tend bar at a strip club and that I'm just a student. The famous Gil Grissom doesn't date women like me. People are bound to recognize him from CNN and CourtTV, and they'll wonder what the hell he's doing with some barely educated, glorified waitress.

So yeah, I snapped at him, because just I couldn't figure out what else to do or how to get out of it. He was so proud of himself for having made all these plans and everything, and I just fucked it up big time.

So, that's what I was thinking about when I saw his eyes flick open for a second, as he sighed and turned away from me. I figured it was up to me to make amends. So, I stripped off all my clothes as quietly as I could, pressed my breasts into his naked back, and I started to kiss his neck.

Right away I knew something was wrong, but I figured I just caught him off guard. He sort of froze for a second, and then turned onto his back. When he turned over, my hand was moving over his smooth chest and my lips were going for his lips.

Then the growling started. I don't know what else to call it because he wasn't yelling-exactly. But he was shaking a little when he pushed my hand away from him.

"You don't have to fuck me every time you think I'm mad at you. You don't have to fuck me when I do nice things for you. In fact, tell you what…why don't you just not screw me at all."

I could feel my cheeks burning and there were tears pooling in my eyes. Thank god he left before I cried. I can't even remember the last time I cried, and I certainly don't want him seeing me cry. What an asshole, I thought. Or at least, that's what I wanted to think. Some of what was going through my mind was, What did I do wrong? I was just doing what I thought he wanted me to do.

Anyway, I don't know where he is, if he's in the house, or what. I wish I could have said something back, but I was really just too freaked out and scared, 'cause he was really mad. I've never seen him like that. His face was all sweaty and his eyes weren't clear blue like they usually are, but dark and a little bloodshot. He just kept clenching and unclenching his fist.

I cried for a little bit after he left. Not so much because of him being mean. I mean it started out like that, but as I was crying I realized… Well, I WAS CRYING! A man had made me cry.

My God… I actually love him.

Lots of people have said plenty of worse stuff to me, people I cared about too, but this was just…well, it made me feel like black lava was oozing through my body, killing everything in its path. Everything was hot, and then it was cold. My face must have looked like a red hot poker. In retrospect, it's probably good I didn't say anything. Because if I love him, it must mean that he really cares about me. I may have a lot to learn, but I'm not quite that stupid. I wouldn't be falling love with a guy if he didn't care anything about me.

You see if I had started yelling, it would have just gotten worse, because no one can hurt you more than the people you care about.

So, I'm lying here, basically hiding out. Gil came in a little while ago to take a shower. But I just pretended I was asleep when he came towards the bed. I don't want him yelling at me anymore. I really don't think that he will, but who knows at this point? He stood there for a while and pushed a lock of sleep tangled hair from my forehead.

I just heard his car pull out of the driveway. I think he's going to see Father Ado today.

I sure hope so.

Observation-Gil

There was very little that surprised Gil Grissom. Sure the creativity of crimes caught him off guard. Mostly, the keen observer was comfortable with the world offered and the path it could lead one down. He'd gone in Sara's wallet expecting one thing, but finding the completely unexpected. For the first time in a long while, Gil Grissom was taken by complete surprise and he had no idea what to do about it.

Gil

Patrick Ado doesn't like Coca Cola. He only drinks Pepsi, I carry a chilled six pack along with a bottle of wine from my mother that came from our family's vineyard in Napoli. His graceful charcoal hands greedily reach for the offerings as soon as he opens the door to his ram shackled office at the back of St. Anne's

"Gilbert," he booms. I hope Sara knows that's my name. I'll have to tell her, and that my middle name is Isaac. I rest my aching back in the chair I donated to the church after my last move. It's the only thing in the office that is less than 20 years old.

"Back bothering you again." He said rummaging through his desk. "You must be working too much."

Why can't I just have normal friends? Friends that don't notice every hitch in my step. He pulls a corkscrew from his desk and goes to work on the wine. He pours two glasses.

He stares at me for a long, painful moment, his black eyes like curious embers. I sip. He waits. The guilty will talk, if you only give them space.

"You need the seal of confession?" He wants to be clear.

I shrug.

Despite my indifference, we go through the rituals, and then reach for the wine.

"It's about Sara?"

Another shrug from me and another blank stare from him. "I thought she was 22."

"She told you this?" He puts his nose to the glass.

"I met her at a bar. Actually, I met her at a strip club where she tends bar."

"Why did you think she was 22?"

"She'd been there for a little under a year." His glass is suddenly empty. He fills it with half the volume of before.

"Makes sense."

"I don't think I really wanted to know. In the light of day, I should have known. She's just so beautiful, and I lost control."

He takes another sip of his wine and crosses his ankle over one thigh. "If you ever had it," he murmurs.

My cheeks are burning from the embarrassment of the prospective revelation. "She turns 18 on Monday."

"Ah," is all he says just before he takes another sip of wine. "How long have you two been together?"

My own glass is still half full. The wine is far too good for guzzling. I never thought about how long we have been together. How long have we not been together? "We-ah- started seeing one another the last week in July. So, seven months."

He shifts his seat and I squirm in the chair. He licks full lips. "You were close before?"

"Yes. Yes. I guess we were. We talked a lot at the bar."

He gives a brief smile and I can see a bit of the mischief maker he must have been in his youth. "I would venture to say that you hardly looked at the show much."

Gil shook his head. "There are other-concerns."

"Other sins?" I want to yell at him that nothing I do with, or for Sara could possibly be a sin. I have never been able to articulate, or completely understand that particular corner of religion. What I do know is whatever it was, or is, you cannot feel what I feel for Sara, or know what I know about our possibilities, and there be something bad or wrong about it. Sin is death. When we overcome death, we've fought sin. There was something dying inside of me before. Now, there is a flower.

"I exchanged money for sexual favors."

The glass makes no sound as he sets it down on the battered coffee table between us. "With your Sara?"

I nod again. Confession is not supposed to be a psychiatric session.

"Does she engage in prostitution?" he asks quietly sounding a little too puritan for my tastes.

"No!"

"I see." His pale nail runs around the edge of his glass. I blink quickly, as warmth spreads from my throat into my cheeks. He has this way of making me feel so damned guilty, even more than I did before walking in. "It's not for me to understand, Gilbert. That is between you and God. I am here so that your mistakes will not be held in private. Confession is not about explanation. It is about speaking sinfulness out loud, so that we are aware, accountable, so that we are able to seek contrition."

I know this. I have been Catholic all my life, and not just the rote and verse ritual following of most. I read and studied. I don't follow anything by rote. Still, it's good to hear Peter say the words aloud.

"I don't know what to do."

"Yes. That makes sense. It shows that your intentions towards this young woman come from a good place."

"I love her." Desperately.

"Clearly. She looks at you as though you hung the moon in the sky, and you look at her like you plan on doing exactly that."

He won't say it, so I do. "She's just...so young."

The wordless air fills the space. He doesn't comfort. How can he? Not knowing what else to do, I begin to drum my fingers on the scratched arm of my chair.

"You remind me of Paul, Gil."

"Hardly," I murmur into my chin sinking into my chest

He recounts what must be a time tested story. "Paul was like you. Well educated. Very smart. Regimented. He liked order and rules. I imagine they made him feel safe, as they should. When he found his life turned upside down, it was very disconcerting to him, but he was charged with a task and he performed it admirably. We make a number of plans in our lives. We plan on making this happen or we plan on that not happening. Rules are there for a reason, and we should follow them to the best of our ability. You had absolutely no business with this girl. It was skirting the edges of legality and the manner in which you engaged in this relationship was morally wrong. You had no business paying her to sleep with you."

For an instant the flogging feels good. "I didn't do that-exactly. I mean. It's not like that anymore-I don't think."

"Apparently, she is in a position to be taken advantage of?"

"Yes. A- friend hired her. She probably did it to keep her off the street. I really don't know. I haven't talked to Sara about this yet. We had a fight yesterday." I take a deep breath. "It was a bad one. I said some things...I shouldn't have said." He gives me a kind stare. "I promised her that I would never treat her badly."

"Of course, but it's all a bit muddied now, isn't it? A little too difficult to wear that damn honesty of yours on your sleeve." A physical slap wouldn't sting as bad. "Honesty does not make you moral and good. It is only a contribution to the totality of a moral person."

"I know."

"Your whole life is about absence, Gilbert. It's about the absence of lies and the absence of relational commitment. You aren't monogamous, but as long as you are honest about it, that makes it okay in your mind. Paul thought he was doing well, as long as he followed the rules, as he believed them to be. His rules allowed for the persecution of Christians. Your rules allow for the breaking of hearts. But now you have this Sara in your life. God does have a since of humor."

"I never…"

"Haven't you? You sleep with women. You treat them well. Buy them gifts. One even met your mother."

"This isn't about Alana."

"No, it isn't. Until Sunday I thought it would always be about her, but now I see that you've moved forward. That is good. You two weren't right for one another."

"What happened to this not being a counseling session?"

He ignores me as he runs his index finger along his jaw. "I seldom have you in a position of powerlessness. It's the only time you will actually listen to anyone. You love these people. You love these women, and because you tell them that you aren't able to be a one woman man, you think it's all right. But you lie to them. You lie to yourself. You lie to God."

I swallow hard. "I haven't lied to anyone."

Peters give me a superior smile. "Haven't you? You treat people very well, Gilbert. You are kind, and charming, and always easy with the baubles of life, but all of that is covering something isn't it? You always want to create the parameters in any relationship. You are uncomfortable with things progressing naturally, because then they would be out of your control. You have very little control regarding this young woman, so you created a situation which would allow you to control her. No matter that it wasn't right." He blinks hard. "Your father left you without very much control."

"This is not about my father."

"Isn't it?"

"I don't want to talk about it any longer." There, he can't make me talk about anything. I don't want to. It's my confession, and I have confessed. I don't need a priest. I need a friend. I shouldn't have come here. I shift my weight to the edge of the chair. It's time to leave.

"Gil, you need to hear this."

"I don't need this. I came because I was confused. I'm not anymore, and so I am leaving."

"That's not why you came. I believe you did think your dear Sara was 22. You committed no sin with regard to Sara's age. At least not the one you came to confess. It's like taking a drink from a spiked punch bowl. How could you know? You acted on good faith. You have to stop this Gil. You can't keep pulling people in and pushing them away once they cross some arbitrary line that no one else can see."

"I am not pushing Sara away!" Who the hell does he think he is? I love Sara.

Peter watches me. We play the staring game. Of course the priest wins. "What are you going to do?"

I shrug the bluster knocked out of me. I feel limp and wrung out. What am I going to do?

"I feel as if I am missing pieces of this story."

"She's just so special. She deserves better. I kept telling myself that what I was doing was keeping her safe."

"In all likelihood you were. That's the sadness." His voice is stern and tired.

We drink the rest of the bottle without talking. I leave knowing exactly what needs to be done.

TBC