A/N: Ah ha! Calling time! :) I have some news…. Are you ready? I think Evil hat may have been put to bed. It seems he got a little merry over Christmas and now he needs a rest. Well, that's the rumor. Or am I just teasing? Maybe, but I thought I would give you all a little Christmas gift…hopefully what you have been waiting for all this time….

Thank you for all your great reviews, you guys are awesome as usual. Please keep your thoughts coming!

This chapter was a collaboration with my bestest bud in crime SweetSouthernComfort, in fact most of this chapter comes from her amazing brain. You are perfection babe! Your writing is sweet music to my ears and I love you!

So, from the both of us…we hope you enjoy a little GSR time…. Mwahahahahaha!

Chapter 105

She didn't pretend she didn't know what about. "Gil…" Her eyes couldn't meet his. "I'm sorry that I ran from you. But...you're asking something that I cannot give you. You want a promise I cannot make."

"I think that I deserve an explanation. You're not great at giving them, by the way." He took a seat on a stool, directly in front of her, his hands reaching for hers.

She bit her lip, trying to conceal her face in the folds of the blankets. Tears pricked her eyes.

"I love you," he continued. "I think you know that. I would do anything for you, Sara. In fact, most everything I've done in the past few months….has been for you. None of it I regret. Some things I possibly should." The vision of Hank hurtling over the cliff briefly flashed in his mind. "But I don't and I've…"

"Yes, I know," she said in a small voice. "And I love you back. You're the only man I will ever love….have ever loved..." Her voice drifted off.

His hands sought hers from beneath the blankets. Finding them, he held them almost reverently. His hands, she always loved his hands, warm and firm and never sweaty.

The image of Hank and his sweaty hands entered her brain. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing the vision away. Even now, when she was with the man she loved and Hank was dead in his grave, he still managed to poison her thoughts.

She feared he always would.

"Tell me, Sara." His eyes begged hers. "After everything we've been through..."

She bit her lip. "I don't know if I can," she said almost inaudibly.

"Sara," he sighed deeply. "We can't move forward if we allow the things of the past to hold us back."

She shook her head in protest. "Some things we can't move from, some burdens are too heavy for that."

"That's true. A burden sometimes can't be borne by one. However, that same load can be carried by two." Grissom sighed again. "Sara, I only want to help. But I don't know how."

His words stung and she almost felt the pain in her heart. He was right. And she knew he loved her and it wasn't right for him not to know her truth. "I…." A single tear slipped down her cheek and she quickly wiped it away on the blanket. "I…..am not…..worthy of you," she finished the sentence on a sob.

The initial words were out, hanging between them like a fog. Sara forced herself to look at him, but only saw sadness upon his face. He deserved to know. He had risked his own life to save hers and of all the people in the world, Grissom deserved to know.

Grissom swallowed and Sara watched the lump in his throat. He seemed slightly anxious. His thumbs, calloused from years of hard work, caressed the top of her hands.

"I don't believe that," he finally answered. "So do you want to tell me why you believe that…why you won't marry me? What is robbing you of peace and rest?"

"I want to," she replied tiredly. "As for my sleeping, I try….I really do."

"Whatever it is…" he replied, frowning as the firelight illuminated the darkened circles under her reddened eyes. She was exhausted. "…we can work through it."

There was no delusion that confession would cleanse her soul and eradicate the pain. There was no way, no reason whatsoever that Grissom should want a defiled woman. Her words would preclude his leaving and the pain would never stop.

She would tell him, but only because it was the proper thing to do and at least…at the very least…their final words would be honest ones.

The hands Grissom held began to tremble. His thumbs continued to massage them, as if trying to stop the trembling.

Sara inhaled deeply and her voice was low and sad. "When…Hank kidnapped me…" the first four words emerged as a rush, "…I tried to escape. I hit a servant girl and ran out of the house….I ran and ran….and he chased after me….."

Grissom almost made her stop. He knew the truth, but Sara wasn't good at confiding in people. She was a woman who internalized everything and he desired a marriage where anything could be confessed. She needed to say the words. This time he happened to know the truth; next time he may not and their relationship would never move forward if they couldn't communicate. The tears flowed freely, but she didn't wipe them away.

He brushed them away, gently, feeling the chilled skin beneath his warm fingers. His other hand squeezed hers, the thumb brushing her soft skin. He wanted to hold her, but he dared not.

Not yet.

"I tripped. I tripped on a rock I think. He caught me then. He was on a horse," she sniffled. Her eyes appeared more glazed. "He hit me then dragged me back to the main house. Locked me in a room."

Her voice drifted off. Her eyes stared at the blanket.

The minutes ticked by…

His hand cupped her cheek, slowly bringing her eyes to his. "Was this when I came?" he asked, knowing his words were incorrect, but hoping they would start Sara talking again.

Sara shook her head. "No, that was the day before, I think. Maybe...I don't know. Days and nights seemed all jumbled up. I should know." Another tear squeezed out and rolled down her cheek.

"What happened then?"

"He came to see me that evening….He hit me again…..and then he told me to undress…I refused."

Her voice suddenly erupted into a paroxysm of sobs, so intense they startled him. Her eyes were staring straight at him, lips trembling. "And then….and then…..and then….and then…." she repeated the phrase over and over, trying desperately to finish the sentence.

His eyes widened at the change in emotion. Sara was half-gasping, half crying, almost as if saying the words were robbing her of breath.

"Sara stop," he pleaded. "It's okay."

She shook her head violently. "He raped me," she spat the words. Her stomach began to cramp with the expulsion of her confession. She felt so sick.

The quilt was thrown to the floor and she stood, trying vainly to make eye contact with the man she loved. The tears occluded her vision, burning her already tired eyes with their saltiness. Giving up the endeavor, Sara pulled her hands from his and covered her eyes. One hand snaked to her flat stomach.

"I feel so sick," she wept. Nausea seemed to infiltrate her body's every fiber. She felt her sickness might turn violent, so she turned to leave, never once succeeding in looking at him.

She felt his hands at her waist, tugging her against his chest again, where he gently turned her and she buried her head into his shoulder.

"Slow deep breaths, Sara," he coached softly into her hair. "Just breathe, slow. It's okay."

"No, it's not," she gasped, pushing herself away from him. "It's not. Did you not hear me? He raped me! He ruined me! I'm nothing now! The entire town says terrible horrible things about me! I'm not even worthy to be with the lowliest drunk sleeping in the gutter."

"Sara…" he said her name with marked emphasis as she turned away from him. Her next breath was punctuated by another damned wheeze. "Please, just breathe…slowly... I…know…I know what happened. Please. You're right, Honey. It's not okay. But it's not something that you and I can't work through."

She spun to face him. "You knew?"

"Yes," he said shakily.

"Oh, God. You just put me through that and you already knew?"

"No," he stressed. "I want to help you."

"I don't understand how that is helping me! You just made it worse." She turned away again, holding her head in her hands.

Automatically, he grabbed her and held her close, feeling her skin grow hot in his arms from her emotion and exertion. Her breaths were hyperventilated gasps and a fear that she was once again struggling to catch her breath gripped him but he shook it off.

"Breathe," he encouraged. "Slowly…..that's it…." Gradually, her breathing slowed but he felt her body slacken to the point that he was supporting most of her weight. Her head was buried in his neck and he felt her hot breath and tears against his skin.

Carefully, he lifted the remainder of her weight and walked them to the window. With one hand, he pushed up on the frame, cracking the window ajar. A small gust of cold air rushed in where he hoped it would cool her and relieve the nausea.

"Feel better?" he asked softly.

She shook her head vehemently, but slowly backed up though she still couldn't look at him. Her eyes were so red and irritated that he produced a soft damp cloth to wash the salty tears away from them. She allowed his attentions for a minute, occasional gasps emitting from her lungs.

"You knew?" she questioned again as if unable to believe it. "You knew?"

He continued to wipe the tears, barely applying pressure to the sensitive tissue around her eyes. "Yes."

More tears replaced the ones he wiped. "And you didn't tell me? Oh I understand now…" She pushed away from him again and walked away, hands grasping at the doorknob. "I should have figured it out. I'm so stupid..."

He was beside her in an instant, not liking the expression on her face or the tone of her voice. "What do you mean?" His own hands stopped hers from opening the door.

"Just leave me alone," she fired back.

"No, Sara." his hands covered hers.

"I don't want your pity!" she retaliated loudly. Her voice then dropped an octave, to where it was chillingly low. "That's the reason you wanted to marry me...the sudden proposal, the ring that I know my mother gave you. Bypassing the courtship that my father would have normally insisted upon." She paused again, eyes cast downward.

He glanced away just as she lifted her eyes. A sad smile crossed her face. "It's okay, Gil. It really is...but I can't...and won't marry you."

She turned the doorknob, but as the door creaked open, Grissom suddenly sprang into action. His left hand pushed the door closed again while his right hand encased her bony little wrist.

"You listen to me…" he started to say.

Sara pulled back, though her wrist was still ensnared by his much larger hand. "Grissom…" she whined.

Releasing her wrist, only to grasp her shoulders, he forced her to look at him, trying not to shake her through his frustration. "Sara, look at you! You're much too thin, you wheeze and sometimes can't breathe...your eyes are so swollen and red that I can't see how you suffer them. You are melancholic and exhausted. What do you want me to think?"

She looked at him weakly.

"Yes, I pity you. I cannot imagine anyone with half a heart not to feel sorry for the ordeal that you did not create. Sara, I only want to comfort you, soothe you and hear your laugh again. I want to chase the nightmares away, protect you from the ignorant, hold you when you cry...give you your life back. If that's pity, fine I'm guilty. However, it's also love and there's nothing pitiful about that."

She seemed to absorb the words but didn't give an indication of what she might have thought about them. The anger seemed to dissipate but he did not know if it was his words or her exhaustion that extinguished it. Her vulnerability was back, the frailty. It pained him.

He pulled her back into his arms. "Would you marry me now?"

She ignored him. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't know how," he admitted. "And it doesn't change my feelings towards you nor my intentions."

She was still evading his eyes. Grissom guided her back to the chair and sat down again in front of her, effectively resuming their earlier position. Sara seemed almost shocked by his confession; her eyes were focused on the floor, lips moving in unspoken words.

He felt himself beginning to fret again. "Sara," he said softly. "Come on, talk to me. Let's talk…"

His words brought her eyes finally to his. He saw her pain mirrored in them, combined with her obvious exhaustion. Slowly, he cupped his hand around her cheek and jaw, stroking her skin just like he had earlier when he held her hand.

Sara still hadn't spoken again, so he took the lead. "What is it that is hurting you so much?" he asked. "Is it what Hank did or is it that you believe that I'm going to leave you?"

"Both," her response was hoarse and raspy and barely audible. "I'm afraid if you leave...that McKeen will find you..." her response was hoarse and raspy and barely audible.

"Sara, look at me." He moved his hand, turning her face so that she was looking directly into his eyes. His other hand moved to the opposite side of her face….holding her immobile. She fidgeted and trembled but remained still.

He chose his words carefully, speaking slowly and emphatically. "I was angry at what Hank did to you. It was the reason that I….dropped him from the cliff….that night."

Sara swallowed and he watched the muscles contract in her throat. Grissom closed his eyes briefly, opening them only when he felt one of Sara's hands on his wrists. Her expression didn't change after his confession, but the emotion in her eyes reflected…..sadness, understanding…he wasn't sure.

He didn't elaborate on that, feeling the knowledge unnecessary. "So yes, I was furious at him for hurting you. And considering the events back at the Grove, I don't feel much guilt over what I did. Perhaps that is wrong….I don't know…but I have prayed and confessed and found what I believe is forgiveness." He let out a hearty sigh. "I have no intensions of leaving you. Not now, not ever and if McKeen should ever try and hurt those I love again…"

She stopped him, placing a finger over his lips, knowing exactly what he was going to say. Understanding dawned in her eyes. But then a look of fear crossed them. Her hand closed around his wrist. "Gil, please..." she begged in a small voice. "Please don't tell anyone else about that…about…Hank…"

He was touched by her words. Even now, her desire to protect him was paramount to any fears she was having. Grissom smiled at her and swiped at a tear with his thumb.

"Only you and Laura know," he confessed, "And a minister that I confided to in Alexandria. He's a friend of mine and I trust him….I won't ever mention it again…there is no need."

She seemed relieved.

"Sara…as angry as Hank made me by forcing himself upon you; it does not change anything about my love for you. If that was Hank's intention, and I'm sure it was…then he failed miserably."

Sara's lips twitched as she remembered Hank's taunt that day. She couldn't remember his exact words but she did remember his cruel statements about ruining her for any other man. Everything she ever knew about defilement and rape suggested that the act was a ruination of any woman.

Grissom seemed to sense her confusion, so he smiled and placed his forehead against hers. Her skin was cool again. "Honey," he said gently. "It doesn't matter. As long as your heart is mine, then that is what truly matters."

She didn't seem to agree because the tears suddenly came again, leaving Grissom to wonder what he had said wrong. Taking a few minutes to soothe her, he waited until she finished that rash of emotion before continuing. "Sara, what is bothering you?"

"I…..can't be with you, Grissom. I want to be….but the rest of the town…."

"Can go to hell, Sara," he finished her sentence. "I'm fully aware of the testaments made by McKeen's former servants. The town may whisper and talk about ignorant societal rules and expectations but I promise you that eventually they will move on. And apparently, the town isn't so concerned that it's affected your father's or my business one bit. Besides, if things got that bad here we could relocate to my land.

Her lips twitched again.

"When we marry, Sara." he stressed. "There may be a few people who wish to babble and express their unwanted opinions on the state of our union. But as long as the Lord blesses our marriage then I don't rightly care if society does or not."

She nodded slightly but her expression still remained distressed. "I just want you to be happy," she said somberly.

"Honey, you are my life. You are my heart. As long as I have you, then nothing else matters," he insisted.

"I just want you to be happy," she repeated.

"Sara," Grissom's face reflected his bewilderment. "What is wrong?"

"Gil…..I….don't know…..I want to be….but after what happened….I just..." The tears were back, large and rolling down her cheeks. "I don't want to be a bad wife, not fulfilling my…..obligations….in the way that would be….satisfying..."

"Sara, my God," Grissom breathed. "Surely you don't….."

He stopped at the expression on her face. Sara suddenly looked embarrassed and Grissom exhaled the breath he had held. Quickly, he reigned in his surprise. He had pushed Sara to confess everything and it wouldn't be right to ridicule or act incredulous to her feelings in any way.

"Sara….sweetheart….That part of marriage is a very small part. It's an act of love, not an obligation or requirement. We don't have to…..right away," he answered gently but not eloquently, tripping over the words.

"But…." she started to say.

His finger lay over her lips. "Shush, now. Listen to me. I want you, but only when you're ready. If you're not, then we wait. It's as simple as that. As long as I can hold you, just like we've been doing lately or see you every day, then I don't need the….other."

She blushed deeply, becomingly. The tears had stopped and he smiled at her.

"When you were so ill…" He almost shuddered at the memory, "…I did enjoy holding you at night, just feeling you sleeping in my arms….despite your illness."

A small smile crossed her lips, combined with the blush it made her quite beautiful in the dim light of the cabin.

She tried one last argument. "It's not fair though…."

"Why don't you allow me to determine what's fair and what isn't as far as my own needs are concerned? I do know what isn't fair….the idea that two people who love each other aren't already engaged and getting ready for a Halloween hayride. It wasn't fair that circumstances interrupted us earlier, but those are all gone now. Your father has given his blessing, and if you don't accept my proposal then I fear your mother may take matters into her own hands."

A tiny giggle escaped Sara's lips. A vision entered her mind of her mother dragging her and Grissom to the altar. She wouldn't put it past Laura Sidle to resort to such actions. She felt a huge burden evaporate from her very soul, and she smiled genuinely….the gesture almost hurt her lips and it reminded her how long it had been since she had smiled so.

Grissom was smiling with her. He reached for her hands again. For a second they simply held each other in the candlelight.

Grissom coughed once. "Now," he said slowly. "I don't want anything that you don't want. So….do you still desire a marriage?"

Sara smiled again. "As long as it's with you."

"All right." He slid to his knees, directly in front of her, still holding one hand while his other plucked into his pocket and he withdrew the ring."

Sara's smile grew. "You didn't give it back…"

He just grinned then cleared his throat. "So, I will ask you again." His eyes locked with hers, his thumbs caressed her hands again. "Sara, it would be my sincerest wish and utmost pleasure….if you would agree to marry me and be my wife."

He was asking her again, and despite all the nagging doubts that still tried to invade her mind, she couldn't help but practically jump from the chair and into his arms, her dress nearly tripping her as she slid to her knees.

"Oh," she said as the rocking chair that she was formally sitting in slid backwards. Grissom only laughed and squeezed her to him. "It's okay," he insisted. "It's just a chair."

Sara hiccupped in response. "Right…"

"So," Grissom lifted an eyebrow. "Is that a yes?"

"Oh," she repeated, blushing again. "Yes…of course. Yes. I would be honored."

He took her left hand, slipping the ring onto her finger and Sara giggled as she watched the diamonds sparkle through the cabin glow. The ring was a perfect fit.

They embraced solidly, arms fully entwined, so close they could feel the racing of each other's hearts.

Sara's mind was almost saturated with thought…truth was some doubts were still trying to rob her of happiness. The very idea that the memory of Hank's actions might impede on their honeymoon made her more than a little anxious but she tried to force it away.

"Sara," he whispered in her hair. "Breathe okay. Relax. It will be all right."

She tensed at his words. He had felt her fears. "How did you know?"

"I always know with you," he said, stroking the nape of her neck. "It's our moment, dear. From now on, we will have many moments and there is nothing that can get in the way….unless we let it."

She smiled against his shoulder, enjoying the way his fingers danced across the sensitive skin of her neck. For a second, she almost shuddered at the thrill of it. Her nerve endings tingled at his touch, until her mind reminded her of more disturbing memories.

She trembled in his arms.

His fingers stopped, moving to her back to simply hold her. "We'll be okay," he told her. "Don't worry."

"Hmm," she hummed before stifling a yawn.

He thought of something else. "Do you have nightmares often?" His hand began to move over her back.

"Yeah," she admitted. "Let's not talk about them."

He didn't answer, his hand kept moving and for several moments he watched it's slow lazy movements as it moved along her spine. He tried to think of the sweet way she smelled and not how bony her back was.

He couldn't let her go and he wasn't really sure why, other than the fact he was just so happy that she finally agreed to marry him, that she was willing to try in spite of all the uncertainties that she obviously still had.

Fear seized him this time as he considered the reaction of the town to their engagement. Their taunts might intensify, making Sara doubt their marriage. He didn't care what they thought and deep down he knew she didn't either. But she cared about her family and she cared about him...and she didn't want their names and reputations tarnished because of their association with her.

If she could ever realize that it didn't matter at all to him. But she couldn't, because she cared and loved too much.

"Sara," he said into her hair. "Let's get married soon. Real soon. I'm thinking before Thanksgiving maybe. Your mother would want to wait until at least Christmas but I think I can talk her into it. Besides it would be better to spend Christmas married, don't you think?"

He realized then that he was speaking to only himself, that his exhausted fiancée had fallen practically limp on his shoulder, her breath warm and deep on his neck.

Grissom wasn't exactly surprised. Sara had developed a habit of drifting off in any place other than her bed. It was evidence of her fatigue, of the nightmares that she wouldn't talk about.

But to fall asleep on her knees?

He wasn't about to carry her back to the house. She would never sleep through the cold. He tried not to think about the fact that he preferred her to be with him anyway, that he so missed feeling her sleep in his arms.

He lifted her fully, her head lolling against his shoulder. Her face was serene and relaxed and beautiful and he finally brushed a kiss across her parted lips. She was his, finally. And only a simple ceremony stood in the way of him being able to hold her like this each and every night…

*** "The time will come, the time will not be long in coming, when new ties will be formed about you-ties that will bind you yet more tenderly and strongly to the home you so adorn-the dearest ties that will ever grace and gladden you." ***

A/N: Oooooooohhhhhhhh, are we squeeeeing yet? Hehehehee. You like? Is GSR finally back? Is it going to work out? We shall see….. Review please :)