"Haply I think on thee—and then my state, Like to the lark at break of day arising." His voice was a soft whisper. His fingers touching her hair. Brushing locks out of her face.

"Shakespeare?"

"Sonnet 29."

Like a lark rises joyfully into the sky at the beginning of the day, Grissom's spirit rose as he looked into Sara's eyes. Sonnet 29 conveys a sense of renew, hope and upliftment that comes from being in love's presence. Never had he so humbly understood those words until now.

She smiled softly back at him. Content in his gaze on her, content in her bare body stretched out around his. She'd wanted this moment for so long. Dreamt of it, fantasized about it. Wondered what it would be like, what it would feel like. How it would unfold. Would it be comfortable or fraught with hesitation? Would it feel like they should have been doing this the whole time? In the end, it took on bits of all of these feelings.

She looked him over. She'd never seen him so at rest. His face calm and unencumbered by stress for fret.

His hand rose to touch her neck. Tracing over an irritation. "I think my beard…" He motioned to the spot calling out the beard burn appearing on her neck. She'd spend the next week sporting a thin scarf to cover it up. He'd promised to be gentler next time. The idea of of which sent yearning through both of them again.

The next couple of weeks were riddled with countless double shifts. They began to find a good footing and working rhythm together. Case after case processed and put to rest. Their professionalism never wavered and in fact, became even stronger. Though they went long stretches without working a case together. She wondered if it was purposeful. If he were creating some distance between them at work. And if he was, was it to avoid temptation, or to keep her at arms distance? Perhaps a bit of both?

They did work with trained observers. For them to assume that the team would notice nothing was potentially naive. But perhaps this would now keep that trail cold for them. He decided perhaps they shouldn't work too closely together for a little while. Just while they work out the depths of whatever was transpiring between them. He became hesitant with the idea that this team could learn the truth, that it would change everything if they ever did.

So when Heather Kessler turned up as part of an investigation that week, he'd been able to navigate the complexities without Sara being a part of that equation. Grissom's friendship with Heather was complicated after their last interaction left them estranged. But by the end of the case, he'd worked his way back into her good graces. Something he'd felt deeply satisfied with accomplishing. He'd never felt right about how their communication had stopped. How he'd painted her as a suspect.

But when Grissom and Sara were together outside of work, there was no question in Sara's mind about what he wanted. He'd seek out her company when they were wrapping shift, split time between their places. They'd even had a shared day off recently that they'd spent together. If their relationship had been fraught with tension and hesitation in years previous, you'd be hard pressed to know it now. They read together, went on long walks through nature preserves, shared meals, solved puzzles. He enjoyed every moment he spent with her. The sex was just the unbelievable topping on the sundae that was their budding romance. He'd never known such domestic bliss could be accessible to him.

Every now and then, though, Grissom would talk about their relationship under the guise of a riddle or hurried in the context of a case while at the lab or in the field. Something she'd been a little annoyed with at first, especially when she'd want the opportunity to respond. But, upon reflection, she realized this is exactly why he felt comfortable doing so. He'd otherwise be too afraid to express himself to her.

By April any early relationship quirks and bumps and fallen away completely and all that was left was joy, love and comfort. So much so, that when they worked a case at a wedding, Grissom found himself musing about taking that step with Sara one day.

By the time they had a case surrounding a business that specialized in staged fantasies, he felt all in on her. The energy charging between them was palpable to even that business owner. And the two found themselves wondering if their coworkers were catching on. "…Secret longings—they have a kind of electricity. they're often much more visible than we would want them to be." Caprice left them with a piece of well wishes, "And may all your dreams come true." He looked between the pair.

On the drive back from Caprice Unlimited she broached the topic.

"Do you think anyone on the team knows?"

"I haven't found any evidence to support that."

She nodded, "It's just that, we work with brilliant trained observers. I find it hard to believe that Mr. Caprice, a stranger, could read us that easily but our team can't."

She watched as he mulled over her musings, "Fair." He thought. Moment, "I think I've been enjoying our deception."

"Like talking in riddles about me in front of the team?" She jabbed, one of his brows raised in amusement. There was a long moment of comfortable silence before she changed the topic, "So, Griss," She'd been calling him that more since they'd gotten together and he loved it, "What's your fantasy."

He pulled the SUV into the lab's lot and parked. He glanced over at her and spoke simply, "You are."

She blushed and bit back a smile.

The team sat around the break room table going over the night of fantasy the the victim spent prior to his death.

"Any guy would help out a beautiful woman in distress, right?" Nick chimed in.

Grissom shrugged, "Some guys are intimated by beauty." He looked directly at Sara as he spoke. Talking in riddles in front of the team, just like they'd discussed mere moments earlier during their drive. She looked down to avert his gaze, trying her best to disguise her knowing. "Or fear rejection." He added. She watched him intently now, furrowing her brows at his conclusion. She thought about the time at the ice rink when he'd told her that she was beautiful. She wondered if he was really intimidated by her to the degree that he was letting on. She found the notion of which ridiculous.

"So what's your fantasy, boss?" Greg pushed the question onto Grissom.

Again, his eyes never leaving Sara, "I think fantasies are best kept private."

Warmth filled her whole body at the sound of his words, thinking about what he'd said in the car. How she was his fantasy. Sometimes things felt so good between them, she thought she must be dreaming. It wasn't that long ago, after all, that the very notion of Grissom acting on his feelings was impossible, let alone showering her with such affection in the quirky Grissom way she loved.

Eventually the team all filtered out, leaving just Grissom and Sara left in the break room. They sat there in silence with their eyes locked on one another for a long while. He thought about what he'd like to do to her. How he planned to undress her later. She could feel his musings and smirked knowingly. Watching the desire pooling in his eyes.

"Shall we?" She finally asked after the silence had gone on for a long while.

The proposition excited him. And suddenly he realized that he did just have to fantasize about her anymore. Now he could act on it. With her. The idea of which still surprised and delighted him. His left brow raised high causing her to bite back a seductive smile.

"My place or yours?" She whispered as she stood up at walked past him.

He followed her out of the break room and caught up with her, "no preference."

"Your's then." She shot him a sideways glance, "See you in a bit." She raised her own brows suggestively as she broke off from their synced steps and veered into the locker room.

They kept this up for a several weeks. Stolen glances, talking in code, processing scenes together. They fell into a stride of affectionate synchronicity.

Then, when Brass was shot, something changed between them. A wordless switch had been flipped from budding romance to serious entanglement. They showed up for each other throughout that night as they clung to hope that Brass would pull through.

Grissom ended up pulling Sara onto a case with him that shift, wanting to be in her presence, feeling her calm his nerves with the smallest of gestures. He sat at his desk looking over literature about wasp waists, a relevant point to the case they were working. He felt Sara enter his office before she spoke.

"You doing okay?" She rested her hand on his shoulder. Perhaps the most intimate touch they'd shared in the workplace.

"I'm okay." He spoke softly as he looked up at her. Giving a reassuring nod. She occupied the seat next to him.

"I guess I should be comforted that societal standards of beauty aren't restricted to women." She spoke in reference to his literature.

"It's called a wasp waist. Which is revealing. The wasp is from the insect group Hymenoptera. The notion of hymen indicates virginity. In predations wasps, the genitalia no longer functions as a reproductive organ. It's used as a stinger."

"Go in for sex and get stung. Pretty much every man's fear." She pursed back a smile, thinking about how he'd pretty much said as much just a few years prior.

"Hmmm." He nodded, "Certainly was mine."

"You're not afraid of being stung anymore?" She smirked through her playful jab.

"Not anymore, no." His eyes locked on hers. He'd suddenly wished they weren't at work. He wanted to hold her, to feel her warmth, to be comforted by her touch.

"You and Brass…" She began, taking him out of his thoughts, "I was surprised to learn you had his medical power of attorney."

Grissom nodded, "Since he visited Ellie in L.A. last year" He thought a moment before deciding to ask, "Who is yours?"

For while their relationship was comfortable and intimate in so many areas, topics like these rarely came up, and when the did they still felt uncharted and fret with hesitation. He watched as she shifted slightly with a hint of discomfort before responding, "Dave Crow, actually."

He nodded in understanding.

"And yours?"

"Oh." Grissom fiddled with the book in his hands, "You are." Her shocked expression made him a bit nervous, "Should I have asked you?"

She shook her head, "No, well… I don't know." She looked back toward the door to ensure they were alone before placing a hand on his knee. "I'm going to check in on the trace I left with Hodges and then head to the hospital to see how he's doing."

He breathed out. Another moment to add to the file of evidence proving she was meant for him. She didn't probe or prod or try to inflate the conversation into something greater. He could speak his mind and know that she would take it in stride and move on. He loved that. It made him feel at ease like maybe he could really, truly and fully, open up one day. Be at ease in this world.

A few hours later Grissom joined Sara and other's from the lab and PD in the hospital. They waited with baited breath in hopes of good news. Brass was still unconscious after the surgery. Grissom walked forward toward Catherine when he entered the room. The two had worked with him for a long time, ever since he came over from New Jersey. She leaned her head against his shoulder as they looked forward at Brass laid up with wires and tubes consuming him.

She felt his exhale at her touch.

"Did you speak with Ellie?" Catherine asked.

"She rode here with me."

"And?"

She felt him shrug in response. She nodded against him and straightened herself up.

Over the next hour co-workers filtered in and out of the room. So when Brass did wake up after a brief scramble and code blue, Grissom was glad to see Ellie was there too.

"Your fan club is here." Grissom spoke softly as he held a water cup for Brass once he'd been allowed into the room to see him. Brass' eyes rummaged around the room, working to orient himself. Finally, his eyes landed back on Grissom.

He breathed out a ragged and belabored breath. "I never got it right with Ellie's mom."

Grissom stayed silent. Looking over his pale and weak friend.

"Grissom" His speech was riddled with heavy breaths. "Will you please, for the love of god, just go after her?"

"Ellie just stepped out, she'll be right back. She's been here all night. She's not going anywhere."

Brass shook his head through his pain, "No, no. Not Ellie. I'm talking about you Gil."

Grissom furrowed his brows in confusion.

"Don't you see the way she looks at you?"

"Maybe I should get the nurse."

"Grissom." His voice was a bit sharper now, causing Grissom to truly listen to his words, "Please. Listen." His eyes closed briefly as he swallowed back a surge of pain. A nurse walked in and adjusted his pain medication levels. "You are not unloveable."

Grissom began to really hear what Brass was trying to communicate now. His own words spoken in that interrogation room to Dr. Lurie being thrown back at him. He'd done so much to push away the idea that he'd ever made such an admission, especially in front of Brass.

"Jim…"

"Just—just let her in, Grissom. Don't end up like this, on deaths door with regrets. Thinking about the one that got away. The one you should have gone after."

Brass' eyes began to fight off an intense heaviness, until it overpowered him. Leaving Grissom standing there with just the words hanging in the air.

Later that evening Grissom drove to Sara's apartment. He'd gotten used to parking two blocks down the street to ensure anonymity. He lounged comfortably on her bed, propped on his side. He spoke a bit absentmindedly to her as she moved around the bathroom, getting herself ready for bed.

"I don't know. I guess most people want to die in their sleep, i suppose. never know it's happening, like a crime scene: 'surprise! you're dead!' i'd prefer to know in advance that i was going to die. I'd like to be diagnosed with cancer, actually. have some time to prepare. Go back to the rain forest one more time. Reread Moby Dick. possibly enter an international chess tournament. At least have time to say goodbye to the people I love."

Sara walked out of the bathroom, her bathrobe loosely tied over her body. She made her way to him and knelt next to the bed, getting eye level with him.

"I'm not ready to say goodbye." She smiled softly, looking deep into his eyes. And he knew what she was saying. She was telling him she loved him. His heart swelled with warmth at the realization. He reached out and touched her hand, keeping his eyes on hers as he did.

"Maybe we shouldn't say goodbye." He nearly whispered. She stayed quiet, waiting for him to continue, which he did eventually, "You know—maybe we should move in together."

Her brows shot up, not expecting him to go there. Her mouth slightly agape, unsure where her voice went.

"We can find a place with enough room for your books." He smiled easily, referring to the stacks of books littering her apartment without a home due to her limited bookshelf space. This earned him a gap toothed smile.

"For the books." She agreed.

"For the books."

She moved in toward him, brushing her soft lips against his. She moved herself onto the bed and deepened the kiss. His hands slipped under her robe, fingers finding her bare skin soft below his touch. He smiled as he pulled her into him, holding her tightly. Knowing with certainty that he never wanted to let her go. He began to kiss her. Behind her ear, down her neck, her throat, her shoulders. She moaned softly at the tickle of his beard on her. Her long fingers made their way to the back of his head. Tangling within his curls. She smiled against his lips. She'd never felt so perfectly alright.