This chapter took FOREVER to write but I knew I'd get there eventually. I don't know much about seminars and sabbaticals and Thoreau or even Massachusetts, but, you know, I guessed. :) This chapter includes that wonderful letter Gil wrote to Sara when he was gone. I mean, swoon, right?

Thanks for all the reviews and please keep them coming.

Also, Shakespeare's stuff isn't mine. But we probably knew that.

The days leading up to Grissom's hiatus were tense between him and Sara. He wanted to tell her he was going because he wanted to take some time to think about how to fix their relationship, but she never gave him the chance. She didn't answer her phone when he called, she ignored him at work except to remain professional and talk about the case at hand. When anyone mentioned his sabbatical, she'd get quiet and look away. Nobody noticed. Everyone was too involved in their own lives to notice how frustrated Sara seemed to be.

Grissom knew she'd be okay. She'd been through a lot more than this and came out of it just fine. He knew she wasn't happy now, but he'd make it up to her when he got back. In his mind, it all seemed to make sense. Then again, Gil Grissom was hardly an expert on the female thought process. If he just sat down and talked to her for a few minutes before he left, he'd know that she was feeling very insecure about the whole thing. He'd know she thought he'd given up on her completely. He'd know she was really quite pissed off about that, actually.

The day he left, he said his goodbyes to everyone except Sara. He couldn't find her anywhere. He roamed the halls of the lab until he found her in the locker room. He timidly walked in and said, "Hey. My cab's here."

She frowned a little and he instantly wished he wasn't going anywhere. He wished he could just close the door of the locker room and giver her a long, passionate kiss. But that wasn't the deal between the two of them anymore. Not now, anyway.

"So, you're going?" She asked, a hint of bitterness in her tone.

"Yeah," he said, not knowing what else to say.

"I'll see you when you get back," she said. Oh, that burned. Of course she would; they worked together. She didn't say, "Call me while you're gone" or "Come by when you get back." This was not good. It was all so...impersonal.

She turned away from him to put her coat in her locker. In those 30 seconds, he thought of at least 17 things he could have said to her. Instead, he said, "I'll miss you."

She just looked at him, her face blank. He could tell he was losing the battle here, so he turned around and walked away from the woman he loved with all his heart. Suddenly, this sabbatical seemed like a very bad idea.

As his taxi took him far, far away from everything he knew so well, he could only think that he was doing the right thing for everyone. He just hoped Sara would eventually feel the same way.

When Grissom made it to Massachusetts, he met with the people in charge of the Walden seminar. They were all very nice and knowledgeable, and Grissom felt like the 4 weeks he would spend there would not be wasted.

They drove him to the hotel he'd be staying at, which was in walking distance of the campus. They told him he could order a car to take him back and forth, but he declined. He welcomed the chance to perhaps get a little exercise in while he was in a different environment.

In his comfortable and large hotel room, he took out his battered copy of Thoreau's Walden and made some notes for the first day of his seminar. Walden was something he was deeply interested in and studied when the lab wasn't knee-deep in cases. He was happy to have a chance to teach a seminar on the subject, and he hoped to learn even more about it as he was teaching.

Grissom wondered about the kind of students that would want to be at this particular seminar. They would probably be different than the ones who came to his entomology seminars. The people who came to those were always quite dedicated and had a lot in common with Grissom. That was, after all, how he met Sarah Sidle. He smiled at the memory of how they first met, when she came up to him after a lecture on double murder in a garage. He didn't notice her in the audience when he was first giving the lecture, but later, when she came up to him to talk about something he said, he found himself captivated by this woman. She was so curious and so determined, and it was refreshing after meeting so many people that were completely indifferent to what he was lecturing about. They found themselves having coffee together, and after getting an idea about her professional history, he eventually became her mentor, and more than that, her friend.

God, he missed her. He wanted to call her. He wanted to at least open his laptop and send her an email, but that was so impersonal. Why was it so hard for him to communicate with her? They had been together more than a year and it shouldn't be so hard, but it wasn't something that came naturally to him.

Over the next couple of weeks, Grissom kept picking up his cell phone and never dialing the number he knew he needed to call. He had so much to say to her but didn't know how to express it. He was sorry he left so hastily. He was sorry he always seemed engrossed in everything else but her. He was sorry she felt neglected; that was the last way he wanted her to feel. He was sorry he was such an uncommunicative bastard, but that's how he'd been all his life. He wanted to be with her and would try anything to make it work.

He also wanted to tell her about Debbie, but he wasn't sure what it was he wanted to tell Sara about her. Honestly, Debbie caught Grissom completely by surprise.

She was there during his first lecture. He noticed her in the audience because, well, she wanted him to. She was wearing a very short skirt and admittedly had nice legs, and he enjoyed looking at them. Her long chestnut brown hair framed a pretty face that displayed a permanent eager smile.

But he didn't really recognize her until she approached him after the lecture.

"Gil Grissom, what the hell are you doing in Massachusetts?" She said in her patented Texas accent. "Don't you have enough excitement over there in Vegas?"

He looked at her closely while he packed up his things. He was eager to get back to the hotel so he could call Sara, or go through the motions of wanting to call Sara. But then he had a dawning of recognition. Debbie Simpson, former CSI turned writer. He met her when he did a couple of lectures down in Austin many years ago. They were around the same age and had many things in common, which Gil didn't come across that often. He found her to be quite interesting. She had a keen eye for detail and was one of the brightest CSIs he'd ever met. A few years ago, she burned out and started writing crime novels that the public couldn't get enough of. He read every one of them.

"Debbie, how are you? What does Massachusetts have to offer you these days?"

:"You, of course!" They both shared a laugh, but Gil was a little uncomfortable. Why WAS she here, really?

"I'm teaching a class at Williams on forensics for the Criminal Justice department. I had a bit of writer's block and needed something to do to bring me back, so this is it. It was my idea to bring you down here, actually. I know you've studied Walden a great deal and couldn't think of anyone better to do a seminar."

Grissom had no idea it was Debbie who wanted him to come down to Massauchusets, but it didn't make him immediately suspicious. They were friends, and they respected each other. They communicated through mail every couple of months and it was a satisfying friendship to involve themselves in when they weren't too busy.

After Grissom had been there 2 weeks and had a nice pattern going with his days, Debbie asked him if he wanted to have dinner after his lecture that evening. She was still coming to every lecture, and he was starting to get...ideas about what she had in mind. But he agreed to dinner. He was eating mostly microwaved dinners every night and it would be nice to go somewhere to have real food.

She took him to her favorite restaurant, Coyote Flaco. They both enjoyed Mexican food after living in Austin and Vegas respectively, so they had a nice evening with laughing and sharing stories. He appreciated Debbie's company and respected her intelligence.

"I know I don't have to remind you of this, Gil, but remember our one crazy night together?" Debbie said after having a few too many margaritas. "God, that was hot."

"It was also, what, 20 years ago? I have to give you credit, Debbie, you still look the same as you did back then. You look great, really."

She rolled her eyes.

"I work out like a fiend, Gil. You have to these days if you want respect, even intellectually." Grissom couldn't help but think about Catherine. She always looked great and she did seem to have a good amount of respect among the staff. Interesting, he thought.

"Anyway, I still think about that night. A lot. You were an animal, Gil Grissom, a damn animal."

He was a little uncomfortable with this subject but he still let himself think back to that one Fall night. He used to think of that night a lot. He was barely 30 years old when it happened, and it was the first time he ever really let his inhibitions out for someone to see. He trusted Debbie, so he held nothing back. It got kinky, and it got hot. It really had been an amazing night (which turned into an amazing morning and an amazing afternoon), and he was grateful to her that she participated in it 100 percent. But that was a long time ago, and he was with someone else now. He and Sara never had that kind of wild, passionate sex. It was always about making love with them. It was nice, but sometimes he longed to break out the animalistic side he rarely showed.

"Yeah, that was good stuff," he said, coming back to reality. "I really let out some frustration that night."

"So, Gil, are you seeing anybody right now?" She asked. She tried to sound casual, but he thought he noted just a little bit of desperation in her voice.

"Yes, I am. I'm...in love, actually." He didn't know what it was about Debbie, but he didn't feel like he had to keep anything from her. He felt some kind of safety in her presence.

"That's wonderful, really. I just got a divorce. Oh, don't look at me like that. He was an asshole. It's a good thing."

"Well..I'm glad you're happy, Debbie."

She gave him a look of pure, animalistic lust and said, "Me too, Gil. Me too."

After dinner, they walked back to his hotel. He said goodnight and opened the door to his room. She went inside his room before he could stop her.

Oh, great, he thought. Here it comes.

He had expected her to make some kind of move. He didn't expect, however, to be aroused by that particular move. She pinned him against the door and kissed him, biting his lip, running her hands down his body. In spite of himself, he moaned a little. This only encouraged her. But it was when she started putting her hands down his pants that he was jolted back to reality.

"Debbie, please. I'm in love, I can't be doing this."

She either didn't hear him or didn't want to hear him, because she continued trying to unzip his pants.

"Debbie! Stop!"

She finally stopped.

"Sorry, Grissom. Really, I am sorry. I just couldn't...help myself. That one night we had together was seriously the most passionate night I've ever experienced. Sex with my husband was never as good as it was with you that one damn night. You got me through a lot of sleepless nights, Gil, you really did. And that just sticks with a person, you know?"

He sighed and sat down in a chair at his desk. She sat on the bed, and they talked for a few hours. She told him about her awful divorce, and he told her all about Sara Sidle. When they were out of words to say, she gave him a kiss on the cheek, and she left. She didn't come to any more of his lectures.

The very next night, he found himself staying late at the school. He sat at his desk in the office they provided him with, and he wrote a letter. Earlier that day, he had been reading a book of Shakespeare's sonnets. He planned to use them in a lecture the next day, but there was one that ran him over like a truck in the way it reminded him of Sara. God, it was like this poem was written just for her.

Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took,

And each doth good turns now unto the other:

When that mine eye is famish'd for a look,

Or heart in love with sighs himself doth smother,

With my love's picture then my eye doth feast

And to the painted banquet bids my heart;

Another time mine eye is my heart's guest

And in his thoughts of love doth share a part:

So, either by thy picture or my love,

Thyself away art resent still with me;

For thou not farther than my thoughts canst move,

And I am still with them and they with thee;

Or, if they sleep, thy picture in my sight

Awakes my heart to heart's and eye's delight.

He had to write Sara a letter. Again, he wanted desperately to call her but he couldn't seem to do it. He told himself he'd come here to get over the things he couldn't seem to do with this relationship, but he felt like he had to get through these 4 weeks without calling her to prove a point to both himself and Sara. He wasn't sure what that point was, but it gave him a convenient excuse not to call.

So he wrote a letter. He wrote that their parting was awkward, and that he wasn't sure why it was so difficult to express his feelings. He wrote...

Even though we're far apart, I can see you as clearly as if you were here with me... I said I'll miss you, and I do.

When he was satisfied with the letter, he sealed it in an envelope. He got as far as writing her name and part of the address of the lab on the envelope, and then stopped. He couldn't send this to her. He had to talk to her in person. A letter was not going to be the right direction to go at this point, he thought.

And then he sighed, because there never failed to be some kind of distraction to get in the way of his love for Sara Sidle. If it was another beautiful woman, an old lover, an out of town seminar, his overbearing workaholic personality, and now...it was just impatience. He wanted to leave Williams immediately and find her, tell her everything, but he, of course, had to finish his sabbatical. And he figured, well, if I can't see her, I can't write her, or call her. It didn't make sense. He knew it didn't make sense. And yet, he didn't do anything about it.

In the end, he found that his trip did do him some good. He thought he did well with his lectures and received great feedback from the students. And he found himself eagerly anticipating getting back home to the lab and, of course, to Sara Sidle. He couldn't wait to see her. He couldn't wait to sit down and talk to her about everything he felt over the past month. He wanted to tell her every single thing that went through his mind. He might, however, omit the part about Debbie. He might not, however, try to keep himself from wanting to have some crazy, animalistic sex with the woman he loved. He'd have to see if she'd be into it. There was a little bit of an animal in Sara, he thought, and he would enjoy trying to coax it out of her.

He didn't foresee any distractions getting in the way of finding the arms of Sara when he got home. He hadn't, however, counted on Michael Keppler.

DUN DUN DUN! To be continued!