Chapter Forty Three:

'Need any help?' Sara stands in the doorway to his office, after watching him for a while, gluing his miniature together she decides to interrupt his space. He looks up but doesn't turn around.

'What and put Hank out of a job? I thought you were watching the film?' He lowers his face closer to the model in front of him. Hank sits at his feet, slobbering onto the grey carpet, job well done boy.

'I got distracted.' She folds her arms and leans against the door frame his letter in-between her fingers. She isn't going to let him have this easy.

'By what?' He dabs some more glue to a piece and holds it in place, checking for any drips.

'Shakespeare.' He lifts his head again but doesn't turn still.

'Anything in particular?' He's onto her, she knows it.

'Sonnet 47? Do you know it?' He picks up his scalpel and drags away some glue which has clumsily seeped through a join between two pieces.

'Can't say I do. Read it to me?'

'Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took,
And 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… Ringing any bells yet?'

She steps into the room, edging towards him. Grissom has put down his tools and has pulled his glasses off his face. Leaning back in his chair.

'No.'

'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 present still with me;
For thou not farther than my thoughts canst move,
And I am still with them and they with thee;'

He pushes his chair back, stands and turns slowly to face her, who now is only a few feet away, the letter down by her side, like she has memorised the words already. Stepping forward he slips the letter from her hands.

'Or, if they sleep, thy picture in my sight
Awakes my heart to heart's and eye's delight.' He finishes the sonnet, his eyes a dark blue locked on hers.

'You wrote it down.'

'I did.'

'Why didn't you send it?'

'I was going to, then I realised I was only writing it down for myself. That those words, the sentiment should be delivered in person.'

'But it wasn't. You left the letter in your book, on my bedside table, for me to find? Today?' His gaze drops and he looks down at his feet.

'Sara. I…I…' He stammers, his hands flexing into fists at his side.

'It's ok Gil. I know you love me. You don't need to say it every day. I know.' She takes the letter back and folds it back on itself.

'I needed to tell you that me going away wasn't anything to do with us. That the way I left Vegas was wrong. I should be able to tell you these things but I… I struggle.' She steps closer, his head is still down, not making any contact with her face, fearing what he might see if he looks up, hatred, disappointment, hurt. 'That even though we were far apart, I pictured you next to me every night, every morning, god, every second…' He fiddles with the hem of his sweatshirt.

'I'm glad you didn't send it.' His head shoots up, eyes locking with hers.

'Yeah?'

'Yeah. Because hearing you say it is better than receiving a letter.' He nods, licking his lips, smiling at her. 'Just maybe next time you go away for a month, maybe arrange the cab to pick you up from home… That way maybe we can see each other naked at least once before you leave, you know, to keep us going for a while.' He laughs, goes to say something than shakes his head quickly, stopping himself. 'What?'

'I was… Nothing dear.' He reaches for her, but she steps back.

'What were you going to say?' He chews on his bottom lip.

'Its… Nothing.' She narrows her eyes, reading him like a book. He steps forward again, his bare feet chasing hers.

'Say it Gilbert.' She takes another step back, wanting to remain in control. He sighs, he is probably going to regret this but oh well.

'I thought about you naked… A lot. Probably more than a man should.' He tidies his hands away into his pockets, mainly to try and not reach for her but also to make him look carefree, like he hasn't just admitted to furiously masturbating over her for four weeks solid.

'Oh. How often is a lot?'

'Every day, maybe.'

'Every day? Jesus Gil, I didn't … Every day?' He nods and continues his advance towards her.

'Bet you just think I'm some dirty old man now huh?' He pulls his hands from the denim confines and gestures up into the space between them. A sort of surrender, well I told you so move.

'Dirty, yes. Old… No.' She stops retreating from him and pushes him back by his chest. 'Every day, that's… Impressive.' Keeping a hand by his neck, she takes another step closing the gap.

'Took me back to our San Francisco days, laying in a strange bed, eyes slammed shut, thinking about a certain young brunette with curly hair.' His teeth showing in the biggest grin he could muster, his palms rubbing her waist.

'Why? Did you?'

'The second I got back to my hotel every night. I couldn't stop thinking about you.'

'You know.' She toys with the collar of his sweatshirt. 'I would have come back to your room with you.'

'I know, but I couldn't do that to you Sara. I was only there a few days. It would have changed everything.'

'Hmm. Maybe?'

'We had fun though?'

'Yeah, calling you pretending I was your wife with an emergency to get you out of a meeting just so we could spend your last day together was rather funny.'

'And how is little Billy Mrs Grissom? Still stuck on the roof?' She shoves him playfully.

'Give me some credit, you put me on the spot, it's the first thing I could think of.'

'We should go back. See the sights, maybe you could come back to my hotel room this time?'

'Yeah, ok old man. Oh, did you look at the schedule the other day, for our trip?'

'Yeah, I just need to tweak a few things and we should be good to get planning something in the next few weeks.'

'Yes! The lake, my two boys, no work.' She looks down at Hank, fast asleep on his bed under Grissom's desk.

'Sara Sidle, excited over no work. Who are you?' He lunges forward, picking her up and carrying her out of the room, down towards the bedroom. Not bothering to close the door.