Ah ha! I did it. Finished it just in time. I now know how paid writers feel when their deadline quickly approaches. I hope that I've completed this story to everyone's satisfaction. I would dearly love to have another day but beggars can't be choosers. Thank you once again to all who liked this story enough to read it and an extra set of thanks to those who left reviews. It does my heart good.


Chapter 3

The late morning sun peeked around the blinds giving the room a soft glow. It was the first thing Sara saw when she opened her eyes just before she yawned then stretched then sat straight up in bed.

This wasn't her bedroom. This was Grissom's bedroom.

Her head nearly fell off her neck as she looked to the other side of the bed finding it empty. A hand to the sheets told her he'd been gone awhile. She'd not heard a phone ringing or the shower running. In fact, she didn't remember anything after her confession of love to him before falling asleep. So the only alternative that flitted into her head was that he'd bolted the moment he realized who was in his bed.

"Shit," she softly cursed, running a hand down her face, pondering how she could quietly extricate herself from his house.

It was then she realized this was a lose-lose situation. If he was still in the house he wouldn't be able to look at her and would apologize right off the bat. If he was gone there would be a note. 'Thanks for last night' or 'Sorry about last night' or worse yet 'Please don't tell anyone about last night'.

She dropped her head into her hands and moaned.

What a fool!

She'd fallen for the old vulnerable trick again. No not a trick. He'd said things he'd never said before and the looks he'd given her were real. She was sure of it. But how could she expect someone as tightly wound as Grissom to reveal himself so easily without expecting some repercussions in the morning when the light of day revealed what his words had wrought?

"Stupid," she called to the ceiling. How could they ever work together again?

Scrambling off the bed, she pulled on her shoes, ran a hand through mussed hair and headed for the bedroom door, leaning an ear against the wood to hear . . . nothing. Rubbing suddenly sweaty hands on her pants and taking a steadying breath, she grabbed the doorknob, twisted and pulled only to jump back with a little shriek at the sight of Grissom standing in front of her, his own hand reaching for the door.

"Geez, Sara, give me a coronary why don't you," he blurted, his free hand flying to his chest.

"Sorry," she quickly answered her eyes taking in what she hadn't seen before. He was carrying a tray filled with food. He followed her eye line.

"I made breakfast," he said with a shy grin stating the obvious. "Well, actually brunch. Omelets with all the fixin's." When she didn't answer, his grin began to fade. He cleared his throat. "Um, I thought we could have breakfast in . . ."

He trailed off at the look she was giving him – raised brows and pursed lips. But then what did he expect? He'd been going to say breakfast in bed.

In bed?

That would imply . . .

God, what an idiot!

This wasn't exactly how he'd planned it.

Awakening a few hours before, he'd found himself nuzzled up against her neck, his arm stretched over her side – an almost perfect duplicate in reverse of his original awakening, and breathed in deeply. Her scent alone forced him to debate with himself for nearly ten minutes about staying right where he was but he still couldn't shake the what if's from his mind, so slowly removed himself from her side and backed out of bed.

Leaning over to outwait the flaring bits of pain that worked their way through him, the idea of breakfast popped into his head. A puzzled look replaced the grimace at the wonderings of where that thought came from then quickly accepted it as a vision of a tray loaded with food and a flower from his garden took shape. Smiling then, he quietly left the bedroom to work on his masterpiece.

But obviously he hadn't thought it all the way through as he now recognized his faux pas and felt himself flush, nerves now coming into play as each soundless second passed. He looked at everything but her as a tremor moved through his arms sending ripples through the orange juice. She was taking too long. He opened his mouth to apologize and beat a hasty retreat.

"I love omelets," she finally said, his eyes rushing to hers. She was smiling then so was he.

"Good," was all he could think to say.

"Um, but since I'm already up," she began, "why don't we eat at the table?"

He quickly nodded grateful she hadn't brought up the bed thing.

"I'll set things up."

And then he was gone, leaving her to follow after him, watching his stiff movements as he laid out the plates, making sure everything was ready before holding out a chair for her.

"You're sore aren't you?" she asked taking the offered seat.

"Oh, yeah," came the answer as he sat opposite her. "Almost fell over in the kitchen reaching for a pan. Thank goodness for Advil."

She giggled a bit then picked up her fork surveying the contents of her plate. Food hadn't been foremost on anyone's minds as they'd searched for Nick and neither could remember the last time anything had passed their lips. They both dived in.

"This is good," she said between bites. "I didn't know you could cook."

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me," came out before he could stop himself. He tried not to flinch but was doubtful he'd been successful. "I wanted to thank you," he said in a soft voice.

Looking at him she frowned. "For what?"

"For last night. For getting me home and . . . staying with me," he reminded her as he looked up hoping to get a feel for where she stood. She looked at him then away and he frowned.

"I was glad you let me," she replied.

"I just . . . You were . . ." He stopped himself. Stammering wasn't very endearing. "Thank you," he repeated.

Damn, this is awkward.

She nodded and sipped at her orange juice. "I thought I'd go see Nick today."

"Yeah, me, too. Then I should probably take a nap or two."

Sara chuckled. "Me, too."

Grissom looked up at her thinking 'take a nap with me' but quickly put that out of his mind and returned to his omelet. It was always so hard to talk to her especially when she looked at him with those big brown eyes that seemed to devour him whole. He needed to man up and say what he felt, what he'd been rehearsing as he made breakfast. But then he knew it was far easier to get it right when the audience wasn't actually in the theater.

She watched him fiddle with his food then put his fork down and steeple his fingers. When he took a deep breath she cringed. This was it. This was the time when he would say what she didn't want to hear; say all the things that turned her stomach; things that made her heart sink every time she saw the indecision on his face. She should've left the moment he fell asleep. She clutched her fork tighter as he began to speak, trying to tamp down the urge to flee. She wasn't having very much luck.

"Sara."

Her name came out deep and slow and then nothing. Eyes squeezed shut as the words he most wanted to say jumbled into a wad in his throat. Hastily gulping his juice as if the liquid would sort them out, he flashed her a bit of a smile and rubbed his hands together to keep them from shaking.

"I, ah, I don't think I will . . ."

"I should go," she hastily interjected, stunning him even more speechless than he already was as she leapt to her feet and headed for the front door. "I have to go home, take a shower, go see Nick. Thank you for breakfast."

With his mouth hanging open, Grissom's mind whirled at this sudden turn of events. How had things gone so bad so quickly? Baffled, he tried to speak, to calm the voice screaming in his head, but again nothing came out. It wasn't until he heard the door open that something clicked.

"STOP!" he exclaimed a bit more loudly than he'd planned.

He saw her jump but it seemed his shouting did the trick for even though her hand remained on the doorknob, she didn't open it any further. Pushing back his chair, he slowly stood, his body trembling at the prospect that it could all just end right then, and leaned against the table for support waiting to see what she was going to do.

When his chair moved her heart began a lopsided beat in her ears. Why, oh, why hadn't she gone home last night? If she wasn't here then she wouldn't have to listen to him tell her last night didn't mean anything more than bringing comfort to a friend, offering a hand when needed. She'd talked herself into the idea that she'd be able to take that and wasn't surprised to find she couldn't. Sleeping next to Grissom had meant more to her than she thought possible. Now it would just be a memory she could pull out from time to time as a monumental what might have been.

Grissom watched as she just stood there, waiting for her to ignore him and fly through the door. He knew this was the moment, the time he needed to tell her how he felt for if he let this pass he would never make it here again because there would be nothing left of him. He had to say something. He had to say something now.

"Just . . . stop," he managed, reaching inside for whatever gumption he knew he still possessed. "Please, Sara, sit down. I – I have something to say and . . . I don't want to say it to your back."

She stared at the door then slowly closed it wondering why she was such a glutton for punishment. But it was better to get it over with thinking she'd still have enough time in the day to tender her resignation and begin to pack up her stuff for there was no way in hell she was going to stick around after this. She still had some dignity left.

He bit at his lip as she pulled her hand from the doorknob then slowly turned, her eyes fixing on his, that look settling on her face. That look. The one he'd seen on her before that shouted 'go ahead, break my heart'. It froze him to the spot.

Damn, chicken shit!

His useless mouth opened again and failed to emit anything causing a veil of dread to fall over his face. Frustration rose and he grabbed at the back of his chair.

"Ok, I've stopped," Sara said in an emotionless voice, clenching her jaw to keep her chin from quivering. "What do you have to say?"

And, for some reason, that made him mad. It was probably the tone, or lack thereof, that just cut through him. It wasn't until much later that it occurred to him she was probably protecting herself from whatever he was going to say if he would ever say anything at all. But that was later and now it just raised his dander.

"You always do this," he began, his voice low and hard. "You always run away before I can finish a sentence thinking I'm going to say something that you don't want to hear. Did it ever occur to you that it might be something good?"

A brow lifted at that but the rest of her remained neutral.

"I know that our history has proven that I'm not good at this kind of . . . stuff and that I've put you through hell along the way and I'm sorry. This is very difficult for me and I would appreciate it if you would please sit down and let me get out what I'm trying to say." She didn't even budge and he sighed. "Would you do that for me? Would you let me complete a sentence and then you can run away if you so choose?"

Sara swallowed a quick retort at that bit of sarcasm and ever so slightly raised her chin in defiance.

It was in that hint of movement that Grissom realized he would do anything to keep her here even if he had to drop to his knees and grab onto her legs. All he wanted was standing right in front of him. He wasn't going to just let her go. Not this time.

"Please?" came next.

It was the near begging tone enveloping that one word that finally broke through her stubbornness and she slowly made her way to the couch, noticing him rub at his mouth, then his neck before taking another long, deep breath. She sat and stared at the coffee table, eyes focusing in on book of Shakespeare sonnets laying open to something that probably spoke of unrequited love amongst the ruins. Well, she'd done what he'd asked and now it was his turn.

Hand still clutching at the back of the chair, Grissom stood up straight and slowly blew out that deep breath, his gaze fixed to the floor.

Here goes nothing.

"What I was going to say was," he began making sure he spoke every word clearly so there would be no mistaking their meaning, "I don't think I will ever forget the precise moment I found you lying next to me nor ever fail to remember how it made me feel. It was like I'd been awakened from a long sleep, happy to find that I wasn't alone anymore and it was all because you were there." He paused to catch his breath. "I don't want to lose you, Sara."

That last bit was so low she had to strain to hear it but when she did her hopes flared like a giant sun spot. Fears and doubts began to dissolve and it took all her self control not to grin like a fool. She so wanted to leap up and run to him, hold him and never let go but could she give in that easily? This was still Grissom – a very deliberate man.

But he'd gone further than he'd ever dared before. Would he step back once he realized what he was saying? He was still tired; she'd seen it as they sat down to eat and all of this could just be what a worn out Grissom would say and do. No, she had to wait; had to make sure he knew what he was saying before rushing headlong into anything. She still had her own heart to protect.

Grissom waited for something, anything from her but a quick glance told him nothing. She hadn't even moved except to fold hands together in her lap. He cursed at himself. It was so easy to say things to her while she slept, to reach out and touch her when she wasn't aware, but this . . . this was real, so very real with so many unknowns to trip him up. He'd thought his words were clear, that they told her what he felt. It was what he felt, damnit! Didn't that matter?

With a shake of his head, he let go of the chair and crossed arms over his chest, his hand rubbing at his chin. He'd never thought himself a coward, merely cautious, and this was what he'd dreamed of so many times before - to speak the words, to take a chance, 'live on the edge' as Greg would say, but it carried with it the ability to break his heart. And that had always been the reason he'd never ventured this far.

Perhaps he was a coward, always willing to hide in the shadows and never be happy. Dropping arms to his sides, he rolled his shoulders trying to fend off such thoughts. He was here now, by his own choosing, and he'd asked her to look at him while he'd turned away. He should give her the same courtesy.

Bracing himself for what might come, Grissom turned back to look at her finding those brown eyes staring right through him twisting his tongue and his head and his heart into a pretzel. He cleared his throat.

"I – I can't stand the thought of what will come if you walk out that door and I want to believe that you feel the same. I – I want . . ." Swallowing suddenly became difficult as bile crept upward, his stomach rebelling at the sheer audacity of what he was about to proclaim.

Looking at a mutilated body is easier than this!

"I want to . . . I need you to . . ."

"Grissom, you don't . . ."

"Damnit! I want to let you love me!" he blurted out.

Finally!

Pleased with himself for half a second realization struck when those last words echoed back to him. He hadn't planned it that way! He'd planned flowery language and verse that spoke of things to come. All the right words and none of them his own. Instead, when push came to shove, all he had was a blanket statement shouted across the room of words he'd thought he'd heard as he'd lingered between awake and not. It was too abrupt, too needy. He blanched then sweat broke out on his forehead at the shocked look on her face.

Crap! Maybe I really did dream it all!

Immediately he said the only words that came to him.

"I'm sorry." A hand moved along his neck. "No, that's not . . . I didn't mean to say . . . Well, I did, it's just . . ." Rubbing his forehead came next followed by a loud sigh as he leaned against the chair. "I thought I heard you say something last night and I wanted you to know that I . . ."

That damnable silence was back and he closed his eyes trying to keep the blush from his face knowing he wasn't having any luck.

God, what a mess.

Embarrassed, he looked at the floor, feeling as if all the air in the room had been sucked away. "It doesn't matter," he quickly stated. "I guess you didn't say anything and I . . . Well, just ignore me. Sleep deprived," he added with a feeble attempt at a grin trying to cover up how his heart was slowly squeezing the life from him.

"I thought you were asleep," came her voice into the quiet and he quickly looked up to catch her blushing, too.

"What?"

She looked at him. "You weren't supposed to hear that."

Brows flew up his forehead. "Then you did say it?" She barely nodded. A tentative smile came to him. "I - I wasn't sure. But then I woke up next to you and you were holding me and I . . . But I didn't know if . . . I didn't want to wake you and find out . . ."

He trailed off knowing he sounded like a babbling idiot and desperately wanted her get him out of this chaos he'd created. But she remained quiet, shock still prevalent upon her face and again his hopes were falling about him. God, this was awful. He should never have said anything then they could continue being . . . What? Just friends? Colleagues? Always at arm's length?

Aw, hell. Go out with bang.

Slowly, he sat in front of her on the edge of the coffee table wishing he had the nerve to take her hand. Instead he tried to get her to look at him and failed. He carried on anyway.

"I want you to love me, Sara. I've wanted it for a long time," he confessed as the words he'd fought so hard to deliver now came unhindered when it didn't matter. "I finally decided that I was miserable without you and knew it was my fault. And then I thought I heard you last night and it all became clear and I was no longer afraid." When she didn't move or look at him he dropped his head, hating himself for waiting too long. "You once told me that by the time I figured it out I'd be too late. I should've listened."

The hush that pervaded every ounce of available space about him was crushing and he wondered why silence became so loud at moments like these. It was over. What happened was always what he'd feared and now he'd have to rebuild those barriers that encased his heart and never take them down again. But then he heard her move and quickly lifted his head.

Her face was tear-streaked and guilt gripped him. Once again he'd made her cry and that was never his intent. He just wanted to love her from morning until night then start all over the next day. That's all he'd ever wanted.

Then he saw her hand rise toward him and stiffened. He could feel her emotions - they emanated from her like a blast of air – and he wasn't sure what was to come but decided to simply accept it. So when her warm touch fell upon his cheek he could do nothing but close his eyes and marvel at how such a simple gesture could take his breath away.

"You're not too late," she whispered. "You would never be too late."

Opening his eyes again he fell into the depths of hers. "Really?"

The longing look radiating from those blue eyes filled her with warmth and she let loose the biggest smile she could. "Baby, you're all I've ever wanted and all I'll ever need. Never forget that."

Without thought he pulled her hand from his face and kissed her palm, his actions catching up with his mind as he marveled at how he now had the right to do that. His smile matched hers and he wondered at the ease that spread through him, no longer feeling worn down by everything that had happened.

Reaching up he gently wiped at her tears. "My heart and soul have always known that I love you, Sara," he softly said. "Now my head is privy to that, too."

"Well, it's about time," she quipped as he chuckled trying to wrap his head around everything before him, about the quiet joy that filled him.

"My love knows no bounds where you're concerned, nor will it ever change. You touch me like no other. I don't ever want you to leave."

"Oh," she said as more tears fell. "I've waited so long for that."

"I'm sorry I took so long," he answered kissing her palm again.

"You are forgiven." She pulled up his hand and kissed the back of it, never taking her eyes from his. "I love you with all my heart."

He slowly leaned in then and met her lips with his, tender and cautious. Parting, they stared into the other's eyes until he slid onto the couch beside her. She rested her head upon his chest listening to the rapid beat of his heart sinking into the feel of his arms holding her close.

"Just do me one thing," she began, her own arms snaking about him.

"Anything," he answered and meant it. If she asked for the world, somehow he would get it for her.

"Just love me like no one else ever has."

He smiled and gently kissed the top of her head.

"With everything I have."


Well, folks, that's it. I hope you enjoyed this piece. Thanks again for all your nice comments! Happy 4th to those of you in the USA.