Grissom and Sara met at a small restaurant way off the beaten path, somewhere they were sure no one who knew them would be. It was an intimate but casual joint. There was an odd tension between the two as each tried to fake being relaxed.

"This doesn't have to be weird." Sara finally spoke, clearly referring to the awkward energy between them.

"Right, right." He seemed distracted.

Sara stayed patient, trying to rack her brain of what to do here. Grissom was a unique person. He had a strange mix of personality, being bright, thoughtful and caring while at the same time being distant, illusive and introverted.

Sara had taken the majority of the steps to get them to this point. She had moved to Vegas, she had made her feelings clear from the get go, had patiently waited for him to figure out what it was he wanted. Even when he had come over the night Nick was found, she was the one to make the first move, to lead him to her bedroom, to stop his mind from overthinking on the situation. By all accounts, she had done all the work to get them here. And now, here they were. And she was finding it painfully difficult to figure him out.

Their meal continued with simple conversation. They spoke about work a little bit, she shared some stories from her time at Harvard or in San Francisco. But she could tell his mind was else where.

As their plates were cleared she finally spoke up, "Alright, Griss. What's going on?" She paused, "You know, you asked me to dinner. We didn't have to do this."

His eyes seemed bewildered at her statement, "What do you mean?"

"You seem...distracted" She offered, choosing her words carefully.

He apologized through a sigh, "I'm sorry. It's been a long week."

"I know, I was right there with you." She smiled. "Why don't we go back to my place? Just relax a little... unwind."

"I don't know if that's a great idea..." His voice trailed off, "Maybe we jumped into this too quickly."

Sara stifled a laugh, "You're kidding right? Too quickly? I don't think six years constitutes as quick." She smiled.

"I guess it's all relative to the timeline isn't it? To an astronomer or a geologist, six years is microscopic."

"And to an entomologist?" She quipped back.

He pursed his lips, finally starting to lighten up, "To an entomologist, I suppose it's a half-life."

"So then?" She gestured for them to head out. He took her cue and stood.

"Shall we?"

The two sat on her couch, sipping tea that she had just put up minutes earlier. It was clear that the new setting helped Grissom lighten up a bit, making their company much more natural and enjoyable.

"It was lucky we both had off tonight, I'm sure that's a rarity."

"Third Saturday of each month."

"Excuse me?"

"We're both off on the third Saturday of each month." He spoke again simply.

She smiled, "You checked?"

"I did."

She took a chance, leaned in and kissed him gently on the lips, only letting it last for a moment before pulling back. A small smile made its way onto his lips.

October 2005

It had been nearly six months since the two had gotten together. They had a standing date every third Saturday of the month when the schedule allowed for both to be off at the same time. Things were good for the most part, but at times, she could feel him pulling—or rather drifting—away.

She finally gained insight into his state of mind while at a crime scene. The case of a woman seemingly killed by falling up stairs while her husband laid outside claiming to have been asleep.

Sara took the upstairs per Grissom's request. She found three bedrooms, one the daughters, one the husband and the third, the victim's. Grissom appeared in the doorway as Sara investigated the contents of the victim's night stand drawers.

"Strange, a man and a women who sleep in different beds arrange to have a night alone together."

"Maybe one snored? Or liked to work at night. Had insomnia?" She offered.

"Or maybe they were suffocating each other and he couldn't breath."

Am I suffocating you? Sara suddenly felt very self-conscious about their relationship. In the nearly six months that this had been going on, they really hadn't seen each other much outside of work. There was their standing date, of course—which Grissom had initiated—and a couple nights here and there spent together after shift. Had she done something to make him feel this way?

Then, like a light bulb clicked on in her head she realized something. It had been a long time since she had let anyone stay the night in her bed, or stayed for the night in someone else's. The last, she realized, was Doug Willson who had woken her up in the middle of the night to inform her of her sleep talking. Apparently, unbeknownst to Sara, she had been talking in her sleep for years. Most likely stemming back to her childhood.

"Sexual lubricant." She spoke looking up towards Grissom, "It's sticky." She paused, "You know, you don't have to sleep in the same bed together to have sex... or have romance."

"I'm going to go see the doctor." He said almost immediately before leaving. She shook her head to rid herself of the thoughts so she could continue to process the room.

Later that night, after the case was closed and shift was ended, she made her way to Grissom's office.

"Hey." Her voice was small as she entered her office.

"I'm just headed out." He stood to grab his coat.

"Okay."

Grissom zipped on his jacket and made his way toward her to turn off the light.

"You need something?"

"Just thought we could chat."

"We shouldn't do that here."

She nodded knowingly, "We could go some where?"

"I'm very tired." His peculiarity was evident.

"Sure, sure." She stumbled, treading water she didn't want to, "We'll chat some other time." pausing briefly, "Have a good rest." She smiled and walked off. He watched as she disappeared down the hall before flicking the light switch off and following in that same direction.

Sara made her way to her car and slipped into the driver's seat. She sat there momentarily and took in a deep breath. She had thought that getting Grissom to act on his feelings would be the hard part and that everything from there forward would be easy sailing—But it wasn't. Grissom was hard to read and even harder to get a hold of when he didn't want to make himself available. Worse yet, she had a suspicion that he was completely oblivious to it.

Two knocks on the window caused her to snap her head up. There, she spotted Grissom, his knuckles on the glass. She rolled down the window and he leaned in,

"I'm sorry." His voice was as small as his smile. She cocked her head to the side but didn't give him the satisfaction of a response, just simply waited for him to continue.

"I've—I've got a lot on my mind lately and well, I realize that I could be a little more communicative in certain areas."

She pursed her lips as she tried hard not to smile but then became serious "Gil, If there's something I'm doing... something that's making you uncomfortable in any way.. you know, you just have to let me know."

He shook his head, "It's not you. Really." He sighed, "I got a new handbook on my desk that updates the rules and regulations of the department for 2006."

"We already know we're in violation... are you rethinking this?"

"No." He answered quickly, "Just thinking."

She nodded, not knowing what else to say. And then the word vomit, "So, It's not my sleep talking?"

He furrowed his brows hard, "Sleep talking? You don't sleep talk."

"Oh." She shrugged off the conversation, maybe it's gone away. She suddenly couldn't remember the last time she'd had a nightmare. Something that she suffered from nightly since her father died, "Okay then. Well... Have a good night." She smiled and started the car, getting ready to throw it in reverse, but Grissom didn't move from his leaned position.

"You uh—you want to come over?" She found the apprehension in his voice endearing.

"I thought you were tired?" Flashing that sidle-smile his way.

"I am." He diverted his eyes for a few moments before he continued, "I think I sleep better when you're there."

That's all she needed to hear, "I'll meet you there."