AN: Thanks for the feedback on the first chapter, I'm glad you guys like the premise! This chapter, and especially the end, always makes me cry, so tissue alert, I guess?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything relating to CSI

Chapter 2

Sara spends the next few days in a constant, tingly state of anticipation-slash-dread. Since he's just consulting on certain cases, she has no idea when Grissom might come into the lab again, but she does know that he's in town, so she could, theoretically, run into him any time she leaves the house.

She doesn't, but that, unfortunately, does nothing to lessen the anticipation-slash-dread.

By Friday, she knows she can't keep going this way. She's barely slept since Monday, she has trouble eating, and every time someone calls her name, she jumps.

So, when she gets to work that night and he's sitting in the break room, talking to Riley, she's both incredibly relieved and completely terrified.

"Hey Sara," Riley greets her as she lingers in the doorway, drawing Grissom's attention to her. He offers a hesitant smile but doesn't say anything.

"Hey," she replies, trying to come up with an excuse to leave again. At least until the rest of the team arrives. "I, uh, actually need to check in with Mandy about some… prints, so I'll be back soon."

Riley frowns, looking confused since she knows Sara doesn't have an open case at the moment, but doesn't call her on it, and she hurries down the corridor and around the corner.

"Get yourself together," she mumbles to herself as she paces. "He does not deserve to have this kind of power over you, got it?"

"Sara?"

She snaps up at Nick's voice. "Oh, hey."

"You OK?" He wraps an arm around her shoulders when he reaches her, and she relaxes into his half-embrace.

"Fine."

"Uh-huh. Sure you are. Need a buffer?"

She lets out a breath. "Kind of."

"Well, I happen to be a pretty good one." He nudges her with his hip. "Ready to go back in there?"

"No. But I will."

"That's my girl."

He keeps his arm around her as they enter the break room – where Catherine and Warrick have joined Riley and Grissom, completing their team since Greg has the night off – and gives her a final squeeze before sitting down.

"Good, everyone's here," Catherine says. "As you can see, we have a special guest again, and I assume you can all figure out what that means."

"Bugs!" Riley supplies.

"Exactly. And since you're so excited about it, why don't you take it?" Catherine hands over an assignment slip. "Body out in Red Rock, near Oak Creek Trailhead – Gil knows the way." She turns her attention to Grissom. "I know it's a bit of a drive, but you did say you could pull a full shift if needed, right?"

"No weekend classes, so yes, that's fine," he confirms.

"Great. Nick, Sara – a robbery at a restaurant in Spring Valley. Warrick, you're with me – we have another sexual assault on Ogden, we might have a serial on our hands."

Warrick sighs. "And just in time for the weekend."

Sara's not exactly glad that some poor restaurant owner was tied up in his own walk-in freezer and robbed just after closing, but she is grateful for the complicated crime scene – for some reason, the robbers decided to cover their tracks by dumping several sacks of flour all over the place. It doesn't erase their fingerprints or footprints, but it does add a new element, which means she has to focus more than she might otherwise have needed to, and her mind can't go wandering off to… other topics.

At least, not until Brass corners her in the freezer.

"Hey, kiddo, how're you doing?"

She raises a questioning eyebrow. "I'm fine. How are you?"

"Good, good."

She's pretty sure Brass knew what was going on before Grissom left – he was unusually attentive for a while after they found out he wasn't coming back, always picking up lunch or coffee for her when they were working together and just generally checking in – but neither of them actually ever came out and said anything about it. She wonders if they're about to.

"I just… wanted to make sure you know I'm here, if you need someone to talk to," he says, a little awkwardly, and she has to smile.

"I do know that. And thank you."

"Or, if you need someone to… talk some sense into… someone else."

It's so vague, she doubts anyone else would be able to figure out what they're talking about, but she knows.

"I appreciate that, but I don't think Greg would forgive me," she offers, making her voice a little teasing.

Brass shrugs. "We can tag-team."

For a moment, she has a vivid flash of Brass and Greg doing an interrogation a la old school noir on Grissom – huge lamp in his face and all – and she has to bite back a laugh.

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind, but for now, I'm good. Promise."

He nods and pats her a little awkwardly on the arm before leaving again, and Sara returns to the task at hand with a small smile on her face.

It's early morning by the time they get back to the lab, and Nick's flagging. "Go grab something to eat and some coffee," Sara tells him. "I'll log this and drop the prints with Mandy."

"You sure?" he asks with a frown. "You look like you could use a break too."

"I'll be there in, like, fifteen minutes," she reasons. "I'll be fine. But put a new pot of coffee on for me, would you?"

"You got it."

She gets the evidence logged in and the prints in Mandy's queue before heading to the break room, but hesitates in the doorway when she spots Nick and Grissom at the table.

"I mean, don't get me wrong, it's good to have you back, boss," Nick is saying.

"I'm not your boss anymore, Nick," Grissom reminds him. "I'm just an external consultant from now on."

"I know, I know, but you'll always be the boss to me."

Deciding that coffee is more important than staying out of Grissom's way, she slips inside and hurries to the coffee maker.

"Everything go OK?"

She nods at Nick's question. "Yup, no problem."

"I made the coffee extra strong," he tells her when she turns around with her cup. "Figured we both probably need it. Come on, sit down for a bit. We've been on our feet all shift; we can take a few minutes before we start processing."

Sara takes a few deep breaths. She can come up with an excuse, sure, but Nick would see right through it. Besides, she is going to have to face Grissom eventually. Part of her wants to avoid it as long as possible, but the other part just wants to get it over with.

So she goes to sit down next to Nick, keeping her eyes on her coffee.

"So, what's it like, being back in Sin City?"

"It hasn't changed much, so it hasn't required too much adjusting," Grissom says, and she tries not to cling to his voice.

"It's been a few weeks, right? You been looking up old friends?"

The hesitation is barely noticeable, even to her, who thought she knew him so well.

"Well… a few, yes."

Nick chuckles. "I'm pretty sure I know what that means. How is the lady these days? Last time we ran into her, she wasn't doing very well, I don't know if you…"

"I heard about that, yeah. She's better, she enjoys taking care of her granddaughter."

"Well, you have fun with that, I…"

Suddenly, Sara can't be there anymore. She downs the last of her coffee, wincing as it burns her throat, and quickly stands.

"I should start processing the evidence from the restaurant," she mumbles as an excuse before hurrying out of the room, ignoring Nick calling after her to wait for him.

Sara doesn't relax until she closes the front door behind herself a few hours later. She lets Hank off the leash and then leans back against the door for a moment, taking a couple of deep, hopefully calming breaths.

When her heart rate has slowed down some, she descends the stairs and goes into the kitchen, filling the kibble bowl for a waiting Hank and grabbing a yogurt cup from the fridge and a banana from the bowl on the kitchen island. She hasn't eaten anything since before shift, and even that was just a couple of slices of toast.

She eats leaning against the counter, managing to get down all of the yogurt and most of the banana, which is more than she was expecting. She's just tossed the rest in the trash when the doorbell rings, and she frowns. Maybe Nick told Greg about her freak-out in the break room earlier and he wanted to check in? But it's not quite eight in the morning and he had last night off, usually he's asleep at this hour.

Sara's contemplating ignoring whoever's on the other side of the door when the doorbell rings again, and with a sigh, she makes her way back up the stairs. It's probably the kid three doors down selling girl scout cookies again, or some 'come to Jesus' people. Either way, it shouldn't take too long to get rid of them so she can get started on her sleepless hours in bed.

She's not sure how it doesn't even cross her mind that it might be him – maybe because, if she thought about it, she would have assumed that he'd show up after their first shift together earlier in the week, or even as soon as he got back to town – but she doesn't, so when she opens the door to find Grissom on the other side, she actually gasps and takes an involuntary step back.

The look he gives her is so dejected, she almost apologizes. She bites back the instinct at the last moment, though. She's not the one who should be apologizing here.

"What are you doing here?" she says instead, proud when her voice comes out mostly steady.

"Can I come in?"

She seriously considers slamming the door in his face for a moment – he definitely deserves it, and she knows it would be satisfying. For about ten seconds.

She might come to regret this, but she steps aside to let him in. The surprise on his face isn't quite as satisfying as slamming the door would have been, but it's something. He really wasn't expecting her to just agree.

Sara closes the door behind him as he hesitates at the top of the stairs. "This place has changed a lot," he notes, glancing at her.

"Yeah, well, I couldn't live with all the memories, so it was that or move, and I didn't feel like moving for a second time in a few months," she explains with a shrug.

He nods thoughtfully. "I'm glad you stayed."

She's not sure what to say to that, so she brushes past him and heads down the stairs, ignoring the jolt of electricity that courses through her as their hands touch. He doesn't follow immediately, but when she climbs onto a stool by the kitchen island, he's half-way down.

Grissom comes to a stop on the other side of the island, as if wanting to give her some space, and she's grateful. She's not sure she could handle having him any closer.

"I actually didn't think you would," he says after a moment, and she frowns.

"Would what?"

"Stay," he elaborates. "I figured you'd sell and find somewhere else…"

Sara shrugs. "I thought about it, but the location's good for work, Hank likes it, and moving's a pain."

"And renovating isn't?" he asks with a quirked eyebrow.

"The only thing I didn't do myself was the bathroom," she finds herself telling him. "Turns out stripping wallpaper and painting can be weirdly therapeutic."

He's looking around the room as she speaks, as if trying to find differences, but really, it would be easier to find similarities. She hasn't changed the floors, mostly because she loves the hardwood, and the kitchen counters are the same, but apart from that, everything's been either painted or replaced.

His eyes linger on the dog bed in a corner for a moment. "You still have Hank?"

"No, I just like the design aesthetic," she replies, voice more sarcastic than harsh. Grissom actually laughs.

"Sorry, stupid question, I know. But he usually came barreling through the house as soon as he heard the doorbell, so I wasn't sure."

"The sitter takes him for a long walk before I pick him up in the mornings," she explains. "He usually eats when we get home and then takes a long nap in the study. He's getting older, and I think his hearing isn't as good as it was, so he probably didn't hear the door."

"Oh, OK."

She almost offers to go wake Hank up, but why should her poor dog have to miss his nap because Grissom wants to see him?

"So, what are you doing here?" she asks, repeating her unanswered question from earlier.

He frowns, fingers tapping against the counter. "I guess I wanted to… apologize."

Sara actually has to hold back a laugh at that. "For what exactly?"

"That's the question, isn't it?" he muses out loud, more for himself than her, it feels like. "I suppose I could offer a… blanket apology for everything, but I doubt you'd accept that, so for now, I'm sorry for the conversation in the break room earlier. It wasn't my intention to force you to leave."

She could deny it, of course, but he knows her too well.

"Look, you don't have to apologize," she says, keeping her voice neutral, with some effort. "It's none of my business if you… reconnect with Lady Heather or whatever, right? You're free to spend time with whoever you want."

Grissom sighs, which makes her shackles rise. Like she said something wrong.

"I haven't seen Heather in years, or talked to her. Not since that case with her daughter. She emailed, a few weeks after the case at the western town, that's when she told me about her granddaughter. Apparently, her ex-husband reached out after hearing about her near-death experience and they reached some sort of agreement where she got to see the girl. But that's the last time I heard from her."

Sara considers the words for a moment.

"So you… lied? Why?"

"Technically, I didn't lie," he objects. "Nick just assumed, and I didn't correct him."

Right, she's done trying to hide her annoyance. "Oh, cut the crap!"

"I don't know…" He runs a hand over his face. "Maybe I wanted to hurt you."

She has to actually focus on her breathing and count to ten before speaking, or she is absolutely going to lay into him.

"Oh, really?" she says when she's gotten her emotions under some kind of control. "To do what? Get back at me for walking out of your life with barely a word? Breaking your heart? Oh, wait. You're the one who did that, not me."

Grissom has the decency to look apologetic, at least. "I know. I know."

"So that's not going to cut it."

"I know I hurt you when I left the way I did. I know that. But… you didn't even try." He looks up at her, eyes pleading for… what? She has absolutely no idea. None of this makes any sense.

"Try what?"

"You didn't fight. For me. For us."

"OK, you know what? You want someone to fight for you, you don't get to leave town with barely a word and then let them find out you're not coming back from someone else! I had to sit in the break room and listen to Nick go on about how he called it, with no idea what the hell was happening, and then Catherine just, oh, right, Grissom called, he's extended his leave of absence and is staying until the end of the semester. And then…" She trails off, her throat closing up at the memory of that day – the confusion, the pain, the absolute heartache when she called and he just… brushed her off. "Do you remember what you said when I called you?"

"Of course I remember."

She got through the shift, somehow, and the moment she walked through the door, she had her phone out.

"Grissom."

"You're staying?" she asked without prelude.

He sighed over the line. "Look, Sara… I'm on my way to class right now, I can't really talk. But yeah, I'm staying until the end of the semester."

She realized she had somehow convinced herself that Catherine must have gotten it wrong, because hearing him say the words made something cold and dark open up inside her somewhere.

"And you couldn't tell me?" she got out.

"I'm sorry, OK. Things have been a little hectic, I was presented with an offer and I just… couldn't turn it down. We talked about this before I left, remember? I needed to get away, from everything."

From work, that's what he said before he left. From work and Vegas. But not everything. Not her…

"And now… I've realized that a month just isn't enough," he continued when she didn't say anything.

"And another three months will be?"

The line was quiet for so long that she knew the answer before he even spoke again.

"I don't know. Look, I really have to go, I'll… talk to you later, OK?"

He hung up without waiting for a response.

The memories give way to the present, and she finds him watching her. Suddenly, it's too much. "I want you to leave," she says quietly, looking away from him.

"Sara, please, I…"

"No. It's too little, too late. Get out."

He doesn't move, doesn't say anything, for a long moment. Then he sighs, a sound so dejected she almost relents. Almost.

"OK. I'm sorry, I probably shouldn't have come, but I was just trying… I hate that we can't even be in the same room."

"And whose fault is that?" It's not angry, not even resentful. Just tired. She's so, so tired.

Grissom doesn't respond to that, and a moment later, she hears his steps as he leaves.

She manages to hold back the tears until the front door closes behind him.

They didn't talk again after that phone call. Sara decided that it was up to him to reach out, she was done chasing him around like some sort of love-sick puppy.

And he just… didn't. OK, that wasn't entirely true – he did send an email, trying to explain and, in a way, apologize. She didn't respond.

She did, at least, get a heads up before the second bombshell a few months later, even if it did come in the form of FedExed property deeds. It took her a while to even figure out what they were, since she had just gotten off a fourteen-hour shift – she'd quietly slipped back into her pre-Grissom life, pulling doubles whenever she could, only going home to keep Hank from thinking he'd actually been adopted by the sitter – and her brain wasn't really working on any higher level.

When she did figure it out, she had her phone in her hand and was listening to the dial tone before she could even think about it.

"Grissom."

"What the hell is this?"

He sighed. "I'm signing the townhouse over to you. I've… decided to stay here."

If she wasn't so tired, she might have thrown something. As it was, she just sank to the floor. Apparently, she still believed he would come back because realizing that he wasn't broke something inside her.

"Why?"

"It's where I need to be right now."

"So all of this, everything… it was just… nothing?"

"No! Please don't think that, honey."

"Don't call me that! And what the hell am I supposed to think?"

He'd never even told her he loved her. How had she not realized? He'd asked her to move in, sure, and she thought he had showed her in so many ways, she didn't need the actual words… but maybe he just never did.

"Look, I'm sorry. I am. I just… I wish things could be different, but they're not."

He sounded like he was on the verge of tears himself, but what did he have to be upset about? He was the one doing this, choosing to stay away. Leaving her. The thought made anger rise inside her, and she was grateful. She'd take anger over tears any day.

"OK, fine, stay. But I'm not taking your fucking house."

"It's your house too. I want you to have it, and I don't need the money from the sale, so please. Let me do this one thing, it's the only thing I…" He trailed off, and for a moment, the line was silent, like he was covering the mouthpiece with his hand. When he spoke again, his voice was carefully neutral. "It's already done, the papers are just a formality. I'm getting a moving company to come pack up what I need, everything else is yours. If you don't… if you can't stay there, then sell it and buy another place, OK? I just… I need to know you're going to be OK."

"Right, and giving me a house accomplishes that?"

"I'm sorry."

She didn't respond for a long moment, staring at the living room wall where all his butterflies were hanging. Part of her wanted to rage, to sweep all of them to the floor, watch as they shattered into a million tiny pieces. Like he just shattered their future. But instead, she just sat there.

"No, you're not."

Those were the last words she said to him.

Sara's not sure how long she just sits there, reliving one of the worst days of her life – which, considering her childhood, is saying something – but when the tears eventually run dry, she stumbles to the bedroom and collapses into bed.

AN: I hope things have become a little more clear as to what happened, but as for why… well, you'll have to wait a liiiiitle longer :) Anybody want to venture a guess?