A/N: This is a short chapter I know, BECAUSE… like I said I wrote this as a purely Sara POV fic and then shifted it to alternating and the next chapter takes place in Grissom's room. (((there's a hint for y'all))) Sooooo this chapter only had to cover the time between Sara's room and Grissom's room and it was pretty tricky… big thank to Otie1983 for firstly ignoring my plea for help and then ok-ing this chapter as Grissom-ish :D as always thank you all for reviewing, keep em coming please! I'll get 10 up ASAP cos it's a good'un ;)

Charli x

Grissom – That I can't keep loving you

He was livid. He wasn't sure he had ever felt anger like that before and that frightened him. His heart raced as he pulled out his cell phone, almost running along the corridor. He was retreating, from the fact that she had moved on perhaps but also from having to spend another second looking at that man on Sara's bed.

"Officer Haslow? Yes, the suspect is currently insitu in the La Quinta suites. Room 416"

He hung up before his portly counterpart had a chance to respond. The way he felt right now he was likely to jump down anyone's throat. The elevator was waiting for him; it had only been moments ago when he had stood there nervously, his hand hovering over the button with his mind running through every possibility.

For an intelligent man he was making a proper fool of himself lately. He had gone to her room expecting to be there as a shoulder to cry on. To once again pick up the pieces and carefully put her back together again. He was good at that, although socially inadequate and completely absent of intelligent words whenever he was faced with her crying, he was good at listening and nodding at the appropriate times. He was good at providing a sounding board and a solid, stable support.

Maybe that was all he was good for.

He stood in the elevator, resisting the urge to crack his head against the wall as hard as he could. His fingers automatically hit the button for his floor before he was even aware he was going there.

His anger was slowly subsiding only to be replaced with a burning jealousy. He had genuinely hoped that Robert was merely a blip in their story, the storm before the calm but in truth it seemed to be the final breath, the nail in the coffin, the piece de resistance in fates plan to dangle a new life in front of him and then tear it away before he had the chance to taste its sweetness.

He was struck suddenly, by the tragedy of it all. She just wanted to be loved, she longed to be loved and for the longest time she longed to be loved by him. He knew it, she knew it, the whole lab probably knew it and yet he had gained some contentment from dangling her there in his web.

He didn't necessarily mean to play with her emotions but that is what he had done. He was much like the cat tormenting the mouse on the end of his claws for his own amusement, or a spider, wrapping her up in his web so that he could devour her when he was good and ready. Only now that he was finally ready she had wriggled free from his binds, she had escaped and sought comfort in someone else. Now he was tangled in his own web, struggling against the overwhelming rush of emotions he was feeling. He had opened the floodgates and no amount of suppression or denial could close them again.

The problem was that she didn't know this. She didn't know how she could haunt his dreams, she didn't know that when his brain conjured up images of beauty it was her that he saw, she didn't know that in the dead of the night when insomnia tormented him it was always her body he pictured beside him. In his most forbidden fantasies it was always her hands, her lips, her darkened passionate eyes that drove him crazy. He didn't really realize the depth of his infatuation, not until he was faced with losing it altogether.

He trudged out of the elevator feeling so much heavier than he had when he had stepped inside. The force of his newly unearthed emotions were bearing down on him; guilt, fear, jealousy, anger, desire, passion and maybe even love. If he would allow himself to admit such a thing. Admitting it would be a huge step for him, he wasn't sure he had the strength of mind and character to bear opening that can of worms. When it all came spilling out he would be vulnerable, he had never been vulnerable to a woman before. He had never been in the position where he felt the need to bear his soul just so that he could face another day. He had never felt such a need, such a fierce burning desire that told him that now was the time. Now or never Grissom, now or never.

Then he saw her, breathless and wide eyed she stood at the far end of the corridor. For a second he paused, she paced nervously, her back to him allowing him a second to steel his thoughts. When she turned to him he averted his gaze as quickly as he could. He felt dirty, like she knew about his thoughts and his torment like admitting them to himself had somehow made them common knowledge and she could see right through his guarded stance.

He held the door open for her, intending to voice everything he had held back, but when she started speaking he was only reminded of the reason he was mad at her to begin with. He was only reminded of the treachery and the betrayal he had felt, all the sincerity he had promised himself and in turn had promised her had evaporated in the few moments it took for them to enter his bedroom. How ironic that he should have her in his bedroom, begging for his forgiveness and all his muddled brain, filled with all those emotions, could come up with was more resentment.