"Grissom, wait!" Sara followed a suddenly very agile Grissom down the hallway of her apartment building. "You don't understand . . ."

Grissom didn't turn around. "I'm sorry Sara, I . . I have to go," he called behind him. He couldn't turn around and let her see the pain in his eyes. He felt exposed and vulnerable, and he couldn't bear to see the expression of pity he knew was on her face. "Please let me go."

Sara stopped. She wanted to go to him and explain that he didn't understand. She wanted to tell him how she felt, that she was in love with him, but she knew that it wasn't the right time. She turned and ambled down the hallway back to her apartment, closing the door and falling onto the sofa that was still warm from Grissom's presence.

She wanted him. God, she had wanted him for so long. She just couldn't let it happen this way. What if he decided it was a mistake? He was emotional and not thinking clearly. No, he needed to be Grissom: weigh the options, make a decision – decide that he was now ready to be in a relationship. She had already been rejected twice, and it had taken her a long time to get over him after the first time in San Francisco.

San Francisco. Had it really been twelve years? Twelve years since she had fallen in love with Gil Grissom. Of course, there had been other men since, but nothing serious, and they were only vain attempts to get over him. Sara repeatedly vowed she would move on, but there was never anyone who came close to stirring the feelings in her that Grissom did. Gil Grissom was 'the one' – she knew it from the first time she watched him scrutinizing a piece of evidence in the San Francisco Crime Lab. He didn't notice she was in the room. He looked almost boyish as he intently inspected the specimen in his hand. He was intriguing, interesting and brilliant. And handsome. She should have known then that loving this man would be difficult – how could she ever be the focus of his attention? How could he ever put her before his work? Even if she could live with being second best, she knew that Grissom wouldn't allow it. She always knew he had feelings for her. He fought it, tried to hide it, tried to put it behind him, but it was always apparent. He thought that he wasn't – couldn't – be enough for her, and so he wouldn't be with her. He felt that she deserved better. It was the way things were now. It was the way things were back then too.

Sara sighed. How much longer could this go on? She wasn't ready to give him up, and he wasn't ready to let her in. Twelve years. He seemed so vulnerable and open before, like their last night together in California. He had been the one to end it that night. Sara shook the thought away. She wasn't ready to reopen old wounds. She hoped she would be able to speak with Grissom before shift tomorrow so she could explain herself.

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Sara felt the familiar butterflies exciting her stomach as she approached his office. She mentally chastised herself for reacting like a teenager. She was a grown woman.

"Hey." She stood in his office doorway, waiting for the signal that it was ok to enter. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, trying to look casual but failing.

"Sara." Grissom glanced up from his stack of paperwork and motioned her inside, signaling for her to close the door. His eyes looked tired and distant, and Sara could tell that he had slept very little since leaving her apartment.

"I wanted to talk to you before shift so that . . ."

"It's ok, Sara. I wanted to apologize again for my behavior. It won't happen again. It was inappropriate of me…I mean, as your supervisor to… um…" Grissom took his glasses off and massaged the bridge of his nose.

"Inappropriate? No, Grissom look, I want to explain . . ."

A knock at the door stopped Sara short. Grissom let out a long breath, appearing relieved that he had been saved from having this conversation.

"Come in."

"Hey Boss, sorry to interrupt," Warrick Brown poked his head in Grissom's office and flashed a smile. He immediately sensed the tension in the room. "Um, the new guy is here. He's meeting the guys in the break room."

"The new guy," Grissom said.

Warrick smiled. "Yeah, you know, the CSI Ecklie's bringing in to cover for Nick while he's on leave. Don't tell me – you forgot."

"I didn't forget," Grissom responded, "I consciously let it slip my mind." Grissom stood up out of his seat. "I told Ecklie we'd be fine while Nick was gone, but he thinks we could use some extra hands. I don't know who this guy is or where he is from. All I know is that Ecklie highly recommends him."

"That bodes well," Sara replied. She tried her best to look casual, as if everything was normal and it was another day at the office. She smiled, mostly at Warrick, but she imagined it came out as more of a pained expression than she was intending.

"Well, let's not keep the new guy waiting." Grissom walked passed Sara swiftly. He was careful to avoid her gaze as he left his office, but he could feel her following him closely as the three of them headed toward the break room. It was amazing how much he could feel her presence, even when he couldn't see her. It wasn't necessarily a smell or a sound; he knew whenever she was close - his body and his subconscious reacted before his conscious mind could register she was there. She was almost a part of him, and that scared him more than anything.

Entering the break room, Grissom observed a tall, slender figure shaking hands with Catherine. Grissom couldn't see his face, but felt that there was something oddly familiar about him. The hand holding Catherine's was bronzed and very large. There was the smell of Bvlgari Black in the air, a scent Grissom recognized only for the relevance it once had to a case a couple of months ago. He frowned. No legitimate investigator would wear cologne to work. Who had Ecklie sent to work with them?

When the man turned around, Grissom paled. The past clashed harshly with the present. It couldn't be.

"Jack! What are you doing here?" Sara crossed the room and gave the new member of the team a hug.

Jack smiled warmly at Sara. "Is that any way to greet an old friend?"