"Freud said the only abnormal sexual desire is not to have one. After that it's all about timing and preference." Grissom replied to Catherines comment about the man in a furry costume on the coroner's table.

She laughed to herself, knowing that he couldn't see how much that comment really divulged about him. His musings were centered around one person. That much she knew. Who? That she didn't know.

"Some mammals only copulate seasonly." He continued.

"How boring."

He shrugged, "For some."

One to four times a year. Now she knew how often Grissom pursued sex. She realized something in that moment. Grissom wasn't that private, he just preferred to talk in puzzles. Only those who could decipher those puzzles were purview to his thoughts. She smiled proudly herself, it only took a few years but she'd finally cracked his code. Double success, she retrieved a suspicious hair from the furry's suite and bagged it.

She studied him for a moment and thought about his life. Obsessed with puzzles and riddles. Perhaps the greatest puzzle he hadn't cracked yet was himself.

A few shifts later Grissom found himself excited to process a decapitated head that was shipped to the Coroner's office. Even more excited that it took him way out to a secluded part of the county alone. He'd been yearning for something lately but couldn't decipher what exactly that was. But out in this small town, it felt like a breath of fresh air. He'd needed to escape from the city, from the lab, from Sara.

By the end of his escapade—a few days in relative solitude— he began to be able to think more clearly.

"A man shouldn't go through life ashamed for who he is."

"Do you not keep any secrets, Mr. Grissom? Not even from your wife?" The local sheriff's officer had held a somewhat hostile tone with Grissom since he'd arrived.

"I used to. I'm trying to change." It was true. He could see his communication flaws, his inability to take the grayscale of life's social necessities by the reigns. He'd realized how lonely he'd forced himself to be. How he thought it was what he was built for, but in the end, he knew he'd done it to himself because he was scared. Scared of not measuring up, scared of not being enough for someone, scared of rejection.

During the long drive back to the city he'd allowed his mind to rummage through every preconceived notion, every moment, every regret. He finally admitted to himself that he'd regretted shooting Sara down when she'd finally spoken what had been unspoken between them for so long. She'd done all the work, and hadn't been able to meet her half way. Because admitting it would mean risking absolutely everything.

November 2003

"I understand the importance of this but I'm on my own homicide." Grissom had just finished filling the team in on the rush case they were dropping everything for. Sara pushed back on him adding, "It's not about the detective, it's about my own responsibility—"

"I'm handing out assignments Sara. This is not a negotiation." He snapped with such a sharp harshness that Catherine, Nick and Warrick all took note. Catherine cut the silence that precipitated with a summary of the division of work. Everyone stood to go tackle their respective parts.

Sara lingered a moment.

"Look—" He began once they were the only two left in the room.

"Save it." She got up and left without allowing him another word. She was so angry. Angry she was pulled off her case. Angry there was a mismatch in victim priority. And angry at Grissom. He'd been twice as short with her since she'd asked him out. Was he punishing her for crossing that unspoken line. For not continuing to play along as they danced around their feelings for years?

She made her way to the garage where she and Nick worked for hours inflating a pancaked car. The work was physically demanding. That coupled with some classic rock filling the space made for a great therapeutic release. Her anger was gone by the time they were ready to process the car. For now at least.

Later that shift Sara found herself in the layout room alone. She'd been looking over the other pieces of evidence to try and garner a more complete picture of the crime and timeline. She'd been staring at the bloodied bed sheet that was hung up on the wall for a while when Grissom walked in and joined her.

"Checking my work?"

"I'm just looking around?"

"What are you thinking?" His tone was much softer than it'd been earlier in the break room.

"Well, her body left this void." She walked a step closer to the sheets. He studied her movements with great detail. "The attacker was on top of her. He would have held her down by her wrists." Sara turned to face Grissom now, her back a few inches from the sheet. She stood in the void.

"Which would explain the wax transfer from him to her."

"Yes." She smiled fully, "Pin me down." She asked him as she moved slightly closer to the sheet. His eyes bore into her with an intensity, he then breathed through a small nod. He closed the gap between them with an easy stride, placing his body just inches from hers.

His hands wrapped around her wrists just under the edge of her latex gloves. He could feel her skin, her warmth, her pulse. She moved her wrists a little to simulate a struggle. He noted her pulse rising below his finger pads as they locked eyes.

He breathed in deeply. He was close enough to smell her, to feel her warmth, to absorb her energy. With a wing span of 27 centimeters, his stomach felt littered with Ornithoptera alexandrae butterflies. Muscles he didn't even know he had started knotting in his low abdomen. The intensity of his desire for her was bubbling up through every inch of his body. How could he continue to deny what his body was screaming for.

"She would have struggled. Then she gave up. Afterward when he got up, he would have pushed his hands off the sheets for leverage."

"Like this." He released her wrists and ran his palms down the sheet, the tip of his thumbs gliding softly against her sides.

"Yes." She responded. Every drop of blood in his body spiked red hot as she turned her head toward him, their faces mere inches apart. He could feel her breath on his cheeks. He'd pictured himself in this position many times before. So close within his reach that he could read ever inch of her face. He could feel his sense of control fading. His mind began to wander. He began to fantasize about what he would do if they weren't in the lab with murder evidence as their backdrop. He'd place his hands on either side of her face and puller her into him. He'd get lost in her taste, her scent, her warmth. He'd push his body against hers in an attempt to void any possible distance that could exist. But he just stood there and just breathed her in.

She could feel it, his energy shift was so palpable. The way he was looking at her was too much for her to bear. She could see the desire pooling in his eyes. One minute he was intense and short with her, the next his eyes burned holes through her. She had to pull herself away from it. If she didn't…it would break her. She could feel it.

"Grissom, I um, I wanted to talk to you about something." She slid out from between him and the sheet breaking the spell that held hold of Grissom's mind and body. He'd felt lonely and cold suddenly. An unsettling shift from the bliss he'd just experienced.

"Go ahead."

"Well you know I applied for the Key position."

"Yes. Your application is on my desk."

"About that…I needed to know—wanted to make sure—that anything that happened…or didn't happen between us…wouldn't be a factor in that decision." She watched as his face flickered in utter shock as her words reached him. It was like this was the first time he'd ever heard of "us" referred to as he and her. As if she'd been conjuring all these moments up in her mind.

"Never mind. I should't have said anything." She tried to quickly retreat. She'd been so desperate to escape that intimate moment she hadn't thought through what bringing this up would mean. "I am always over talking around you." She let out an embarrassed laugh as she broke their eye contact and turned to walk away.

He stood there stupefied. Frozen in his shoes, watching as her figure disappeared down the hall. His heart beat loudly in his ears. His blood still swirling hot and fast within him from the fantasy he'd just allowed himself to be dowsed with.

Grissom and Catherine stood shoulder to shoulder behind the two-way glass of the interrogation room.

"So, I liked your tough guy act yesterday." Catherine spoke over the interrogation happening on the other side of the glass.

"What tough guy act?

"I hand out assignments, this is not a discussion."

"What? Too much?"

"Not enough.." Catherine shook her head with enthusiasm. "I think she liked it."

Grissom's left brow shot up.

"Nicky too." She smiled his way with jest. Grissom pursed his lips in amusement as they made eye contact.

December 2003

Sara opened her locker to get ready for shift and was surprised to see something in there that she hadn't placed. She grabbed a latex glove and removed the paper bag. Looking in, she saw a book. A small card taped to the front. Upon closer review she noticed her name in Grissom's handwriting on the envelope. She looked toward the locker room door before turning her attention back to the object in her hands.

Something for your insomnia. Happy holidays. Xx Gil

She bit back a smile and pulled the book from the bag, an entomology textbook.

Since that moment last month, against the sheet in the layout room, Grissom found himself drawn to her like a moth to a flame. When he'd placed the gift in her locker before shift, he'd considered the gesture to be appropriate. Work related. Simple. Nothing much to read into, he'd convinced himself. He couldn't help it. He knew it would make her happy to receive. He knew he could offer her very little in this world, but this he could.