AN: This is the end, the last chapter. Please enjoy. The story is still untitled, but I'll try to think of something.

Several hours later Sara awoke to realize that her pillow was moving. She soon opened her eyes and discovered just who her pillow was and momentarily freaked, until she recalled the night before.

She sighed and attempted to get up. Grissom, however, had her sufficiently pinned down, not that she had much of an issue with it. Instead she made herself comfortable, head resting on his chest so that she could hear the steady, rhythmic beating of his heart.

It wasn't too long after that Gil Grissom woke up.

"Morning, Sara," he greeted. "How did you sleep?"

"Pretty good, actually," she responded as she got out of Grissom's hold and stood.

He followed behind her, right to the kitchen to make them some coffee. "What do you want for breakfast?" he questioned, receiving a shrug.

"I'm not really hungry, Griss," she responded.

"Come on, Sara, you may have gotten a good night's sleep, but you still need to eat something," he noted as he pulled out some eggs and the frying pan. "How does scrambled eggs, hash browns and toast sound?" he questioned as he turned around, only to find Sara staring at him. He then realized that he had only his boxers on.

"Sounds good," Sara answered, dragging her eyes away from his bare chest, clear up to his bright blue eyes. Her cheeks had turned a bright shade of red.

Grissom was of a similar shade as he went about preparing the meal. Silence had ensued, somewhat awkward, but he was happy to have her here.

"Thank you," he heard after several minutes of silence.

"For what?"

"Protecting me…" Sara trailed off.

"You don't need protecting, Sara."

"Yes, I do, you kept the nightmares away," she nearly whispered.

"Sara…"

"No, I do owe you an explanation. You saved my life, after all," she gave, shrugging.

"I don't need to hear a thing until you're ready."

"Just… let me do this?" she questioned, receiving a nod from the man.

"Remember I told you about how I ended up in foster care?" she questioned, he nodded. "Well, I saw it all happen, that's why I don't sleep much. Whenever I doze off I can see it replaying itself in my dreams," she took a big gulp of coffee. "It's easier to stay busy than to go home, to the emptiness, and try to sleep," was offered, all in a near whisper, Gil had to strain to hear her.

Grissom blinked a few times, looking the woman in the eye, before he spoke. "Thank you."

"What for?"

"For trusting me enough to tell me," he noted as he finished making breakfast. "Here, scrambled eggs, hash browns and toast," he set the plate on the coffee table in front of her, before sitting beside her.

She offered her a warm smile before taking her fork and digging in, he did the same.

"I didn't know you were such a good cook."

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me," he noted with a crooked grin. "And I could say the same about you, Miss Sidle."

"You could, but you have a way of finding it all out," is given, with a smirk as she takes a small bite of her eggs.

Methodically she went through the meal, one bite of eggs, one of hash browns, one of toast and a sip of coffee, and so on, until finished. Gil Grissom watched in amusement, analyzing her movements.

"What?"

"Nothing, just…" he stopped, motioning at her now empty plate.

"Oh, right, I always do that," she responded.

"I never noticed," Grissom offered.

"You never looked," she countered.

"You rarely eat," was his argument.

Sara rolled her eyes a little. "It's called OCD, Griss."

He blinked. "I had no clue…"

"If I eat methodically then I'll finish the whole meal. If I don't then I just pick at it."

Grissom nodded, just a bit. Slowly it clicked in his mind, there's more to Sara Sidle than she's ever told. With a hint of a sigh he finished his won breakfast.

"Sara, I hope you can start to trust me again…"

She shrugged. "If you'd stop pushing me away it would be easier," the brunette responded, looking away. "I should be going home, tidy up before work…"

The morning had, yet again, become somewhat awkward.

"Why don't we swing by on our way to work, or somewhere in there? You can change and we can go in. No point in taking two vehi…" he carried on, one sentence trailing quickly into the next.

"You're rambling, Grissom. You don't normally ramble."

"You're not normally the first thing I see in the morning, Sara Sidle," he paused, she opened her mouth to argue.

"Don't get me wrong, waking up next to you is fine, it's great, and I'd do it every day if I could…" he stopped, looking at Sara as she looked away. He looked away too.

"I should really go, Grissom," she was glad she didn't have anything in her mouth at the words he'd previously spoken.

"Stay? I think… talking… we should talk, Sara."

"Can we talk? We always seem to argue, lately, consistently. I'm tired of arguing, I don't have the energy for it."

"I don't want to argue with you, Sara. I think that, for us to stop arguing, we need to talk, and now's as good a time as any. You're here, I'm here…"

"Just one problem," she paused, "I don't think I can concentrate with you here… with you in your boxers," Sara gave.

"Would you rather I wore brief? I'm really more of a boxer man, myself, really,
he gave, receiving a gap-toothed Sara Sidle grin, and the opportunity to see her blush.

"Not what I meant…"

Grissom laughed and exited the room, returning shortly with a t-shirt on.

"Better?"

"No, but I'll be able to concentrate this way."

"Sara, about 'this'," he started, looking at her, then his hands. "Is it too late?"

"What?"

"After Nick was buried alive, and last night, damn, Sara, I can't see my life without you. When I thought of what I would have done if that was you in that grave… honestly, Sara, you were what kept my head on…" he paused, giving her a chance to process things. "And… last night… I was scared, Sara," he kept using her name, "more than I'd ever been. Scared that I'd lose you before I got to tell you everything. When Catherine and I were waiting in the hospital, she made me realize a few things."

"Like what? What did she make you realize?"

"I need you, Sara Sidle," he was blunt, and to the point, tired of tiptoeing around the issue.

"I have issues, Griss."

"And I love every one of them, they make you who you are."

"We have issues."

"That we can work through, if you'll let us…"

"Us, Griss? Is there an 'us'?"

"There can be, if you'll let there be one. I want an 'us', a you and me, a 'we'. I want to do something about this'," he motioned between them. "There's something here, Sara, there has been since my lecture at Harvard. You were late, but so damn attentive. You wrote down everything I said, and asked me more questions in that one day than I would normally get in a month of lectures."

Sara grinned at this. "I was an avid student."

"And now you're a great teacher, look at Greg. He does so well when he's working with you, and he comes back brimming with knowledge."

"I learned from the best," she gave. "I felt it too, this… thing… between us. There was something about you, it had me hooked once I walked into that room."

"Than what have we been doing these last ten years?"

"Avoiding each other, arguing, pretending 'it' didn't exist?"

"Can we stop pretending?"

She nodded, an almost invisible nod. "We can try," Sara answered.

Grissom gave her a grin and leaned over, stopping mere inches from her. When she didn't move, he did, inching closer, until his lips brushed gently over hers. It wasn't a long kiss, and it didn't convey how he felt, but it was a start.

"Gil," she started, he grinned.

"I'll do that more often, if you'll let me."

"Not at work…"

"We're not at work," he gave, before kissing her again, longer this time.

Fin