Eleventh Hour

He knew it would come to this one day. It was inevitable, destined, pre-ordained. It was ill-fated as well; doomed to failure. He would always be one way, she would always be another, and nothing between them would ever change.

The optimist within him spoke: it could have been worse. They could have argued at the scene. She could have screamed, thrown a tantrum, or even slapped him. That certainly would have made things difficult. Instead, she had stared at him blankly as he walked away from her, shock engraved on her pretty face.

He knew she would leave his lab now. There was no doubt in his mind. He would lose her forever, and part of him was glad for it.

He tossed back the medication dry, its scratchiness irritating his already parched throat. Once, twice, he swallowed. He walked to the wooden case beside the stereo and blew lightly to remove the slight coating of dust off his collection. As the CD slid in with a soft whir, he methodically pushed the necessary buttons. When the words of his lament began, he was face-up on his small sofa, his eyes closed to the soft glimmer of dawn.

Gone. No question about it, and no more chances. This was his fate, and he would accept it. The pain would subside, someday.

Sara sped past car after car, briefly stopping at lights and attempting to obey the standard traffic laws of Nevada as her world spun wildly on its axis.

She’d had enough. It ended today. It ended NOW. He had crossed the supervisor-employee boundary so many times that it was nothing more than a blurred and messy smear between them. Yet tonight, tonight he had done more than cross it. He had obliterated it. And then… then he had ignored it, like it never happened. Like nothing of significance had occurred, despite her rapid-fire pulse, the quickening in her belly and the still-present dampness between her legs. Despite the fact that his rock-hard erection had pressed against her as he proved his point; yes a man could sexually assault a woman in that closet without disturbing the clothing within. She still felt the tickle of his beard and the softness of his lips from when he kissed her as they broke apart. But it was all just research, right? An ‘experiment’. All of that other non-scientific stuff that occurred… well, that was nothing. It meant nothing. And she was supposed to accept that? Bullshit.

She cruised through the parking lot of Grissom’s development slowly, scanning the numbers above the doorways. Finally at the rear of the complex, she found Grissom’s townhouse. It wasn’t surprising that he was off by himself. There was only one other unit connected to his.

She pulled in next to his car and slammed her little car’s door. The sound reverberated in the quiet morning, and Sara cringed at her actions. Rationalize, she told herself. There was no need to be a drama queen, especially when the intended audience was most likely burying his head in the sand. Or in a large bottle of Scotch.

Knocking proved useless; she started with politeness and quickly progressed to pounding. No response from within.

“I know you are in there, and I am not leaving until you face this,” she stated clearly into the front door. When it didn’t reply, she wandered around to the side, muttering “Fucking bastard” under her breath.

She tried to peek into his windows, but the blinds were drawn shut. The only open window was the one with the fan, and she could barely make out the shape of a large male on the sofa across the room. But she could hear the music quite clearly.

Grissom had a thing for classic rock. This was Moody Blues, if she wasn’t mistaken. She listened for a few seconds until she realized exactly what she was hearing. That only added more fuel to the fire. Asshole.

She approached the back door, testing it first. Locked, just like the front. “Dammit, Grissom,” she spat as the song repeated. “Open the fucking door.”

“Excuse me, can I help you?” The moderately polite voice came from Sara’s right and she whipped her head in that direction. A housecoat-clad woman, most likely in her mid to late fifties, stood on a carbon copy of the small porch where Sara was now. She couldn’t be more than twenty feet away. “Are you looking for Dr. Grissom?”

Doctor Grissom. How responsible-sounding. How mature. How full of shit. Sara was not in the mood.

“Las Vegas Crime Lab,” she droned, flashing her ID. “I’m here to speak with Mister Grissom.”

“Well,” the woman replied, affronted, “I see.” She paused, hearing the chorus of Nights in White Satin as if for the first time. “Oh dear,” she murmured quietly to herself.

“Is there a problem?” Sara asked with no small amount of irritation. Her question was met with a blink of surprise, followed by a sharp glare. Sara recognized that glare immediately; it clearly identified the neighbor as a retired schoolteacher.

“Doctor Grissom is a very good friend and an excellent neighbor. He does a great service for our community and our city.” The unspoken words following that statement were: “And you should respect that, young lady!” However, the woman chose to let silence reign as she intensified her glare before continuing.

“My husband and I can only imagine the horrid things he must see, and sometimes he must feel the need to drown out the world. When he does, he does so with music.” She rubbed her hand across her chin lightly, staring off into the small patch of woods behind them. “He tends to favor the traditional, Beethoven, Mozart, Chopin is a favorite, but on some days he’ll play that classic rock music from the 70’s. You know the song about teachers? ‘Leave those kids alone,’” she sang lightly, and slightly off-key. “He’ll play that album.”

“Still there are days, my husband and I assume these are the worst, when he’ll use that song there. Over and over it plays. We assume that he’s mourning the loss of someone, as he rarely has any visitors. Well, at least not that we can see. There was a blonde, but she hasn’t been by in a while. My husband is sure it’s a woman that upsets him so.” The woman chuckled slightly. “He has this theory that she’s from his work… that she… oh!” The woman covered her mouth slightly with her manicured hand, finally registering Sara’s words and her badge from earlier. “Oh dear.”

Sara grimaced. “It’s important I speak with him,” she stated. “I need to speak with him. Will you help me?”

“I’m afraid I can’t help you,” she stammered, looking past Sara towards the woods behind her. “I’m sorry. I should go.” And she disappeared behind her back door, closing it softly. Sara thought she could hear the soft click of the lock, but then again, all she was hearing was Grissom’s damn stereo.

She glanced over her shoulder at whatever interested the neighbor. A small oak stood apart from the other trees, complete with a medium-sized knothole. Sara went back to her car and snapped on a set of gloves from her kit. She returned to the tree and with a deep breath and squeezed-shut eyes, she stood on her tiptoes and stuck her hand into the hole. After a few seconds of mental ‘ ick’ and some fumbling, she wrapped her fingers around a small object. When she withdrew it, she held a small black box in her hand. A box one might use to store a key.

“Hey, Boo,” she whispered with a smile.

Within moments she was through Grissom’s back door. She found herself in a narrow hallway, dimly lit and profuse with pheromones. Grissom Pheromones. God, she thought it was bad when he wore his leather jacket to work. That thing reeked of Grissom, and she could barely stand going in his office when it was there. One whiff of his bitter male scent and her body would go into hormonal overdrive.

Her rare encounters with the jacket hadn’t prepared her for the experience of being in Grissom’s home. Her stomach fluttered as her body kicked into sexual alertness. It knew a preferential male was present, and it wanted it.

She shuddered, shaking her head forcefully. She had to be strong. She was not weak. She was not driven by hormones, or biological clocks, or whatever the hell her problem was with this man.

The hallway led to a great room of sorts, a combination of dining room, living room and den. The stereo continued its repetition and as much as Sara did love this song, enough was enough. Her first destination was the power button on the surround-sound system, and finally her ears met silence.

Target number two was laid out on his sofa, imitating a poorly dressed corpse. The folded arms were a nice touch.

“It’s a shame there isn’t a casket to stick you in,” she spat, hovering over him. “I know you aren’t asleep, so whenever you’re ready, do let me know. ‘Cause I’m not leaving.”

He responded with a small twitch of an eyelid. Fine. She’d wait him out. She sat in front of the coffee table nearby, idly drumming her fingers in a deliberately offbeat pattern. It was a habit with her, and it drove Greg nuts back at the lab. Sara wondered if it would irritate Grissom as well.

A hand snaked out and flattened hers within minutes. “Stop,” he growled softly.

Sara started up with her left hand. Rat-ta-tat-tat. Drr-at-a-tat. Grissom heaved himself into a sitting position and flatted both hands with his own. His eyes were bloodshot and bleary as they bored into her. “Stop.”

“It lives,” she sneered. “Was I bothering you, Gris? Dear God, how callous of me. I shouldn’t do such a rude and disrespectful thing to my supervisor. He would never treat me that way. Heaven for-fucking bid he treat me with disrespect.”

“Leave, Sara. Just go.” His eyes were the color of an impending storm, dark and volatile.

“News flash, I’m not leaving. I’m not quitting, or resigning, or transferring either. I should, but I won’t. I’m not going to run or hide from you and your repressed lust. You have the problem – you leave.”

“This is my home. You are trespassing. Leave.”

“Or what? You’ll call the cops? It’ll be fun when I tell them why I’m here. I’ll just point out to them that I needed some clarification on an experiment we worked on earlier. I’m sure they’d love to hear the details, don’t you think? Which part do you think they’d like the best? The part about your rock-hard dick pressing into my crotch, or the part about your teeth grazing my neck?”

Grissom’s scowl was deep as he turned away from her. “I have nothing to say to you,” he spat.

“You sure? The whole neighborhood heard your damn pity party. I heard it too, and boy does that open a can of worms. Why are you such a damned coward about this?”

That got his attention, as he stood and walked towards her, towering over her. “I am not a coward.”

Sara stood, fiery brown meeting the ice of blue. “Sure looks like it. Pretty fucking pathetic, if y-” Sara didn’t get to finish her mocking retort as Grissom slammed his lips against hers, both hands cupping her face. A soft moan echoed in her ears, and she surprised herself when she realized it didn’t come from him.

His mouth was forceful, desperate; hungry. He tasted like he smelled, bitter and irresistible. Sara felt herself yielding, leaning slowly into his chest as he continued to ravage her mouth. “Stop this!” her mind cried. But her body and soul ignored the call of rationality.

His hands left her face and rested softly on her waist. Heat radiated from them, seeping into her body and settling between her legs. That moan from earlier was repeated as the tickle of his beard on her neck sent shivers down her spine. Within seconds he’d undid her jeans and his thumbs were hooked against the hem of her panties. He shifted her weight and she felt the cool air of the fan against the bare skin of her ass and thighs.

Which was unfair. If she was stuck with her jeans around her knees, he’d better be shedding some clothing as well, and pronto. The faded t-shirt was soft against her fingertips as she lifted it, laying her hands against his ribcage. Now the moan came from Grissom, deep and guttural against her throat, as she ran her hands up his ribs to his chest. His heart pounded beneath her palm. She reached down and lifted the shirt up, over his head. He took over, and Sara took the opportunity to step out of her jeans, slipping off her shoes in the process. Clad in her shirt, bra, and socks, she stepped in and focused her mouth on his collarbone. His sharp intake of breath made her chuckle softly against his skin.

His skin… God, it was addicting. She couldn’t get enough of tasting him, but he put an end to her foreplay after a few moments by grabbing her ass in both hands and pulling her hips into his. She gasped in surprise, raising her head in question. What she found in his eyes made her breath catch in her throat. She knew then where this would end. Nervousness bubbled up within her.

If he was aware of her anxiety, he gave no word as he lifted her with apparent ease. Strong, she thought, as her legs wrapped around him and her hands rested on his shoulders for balance. He led them into his bedroom, and Sara briefly noticed the sparse counters, the single white lamp on the dresser, and the latest copy of Forensics Journal on the floor by the nightstand.

He lowered her slowly, gently onto the light green comforter of his queen-sized bed. Sara’s head was spinning as he stared down at her, lying atop her and shrugging out of his sweatpants with one hand as the other supported him. Sara’s eyes shifted downwards, curiously wondering if he wore boxers or briefs. But he distracted her by kissing her again, and she was lost.

The need to feel his skin on hers was overpowering, so she twisted her shoulders and tried to move her hands behind her back to undo her bra. He realized her intentions and within moments, she was free of both shirt and bra. The effect of her nakedness on him was profound. With a growl he was on her breast in an instant, sucking eagerly while his hand fondled the other. The heat of his mouth sent a jolt down her spine and unleashed a fire deep within her. Her back arched against him, and his hand released her breast to support her lower back as he slid her forward onto the middle of the bed.

She felt his legs part hers and her heart froze in her throat. He shifted and murmured something incoherent into her neck as he slowly guided himself into her. The sensation, not quite pain, forced a soft cry from her lips as her body accepted his intrusion. His mouth met hers, stifling her cry as he pushed himself deeper. He retreated slowly, and she felt every inch of him within her as he barely exited and then returned. Her hips thrust against his in eagerness, and he groaned at the assault.

Her hands pinned against his chest; she rubbed her thumb purposefully against the already tight nipple beneath it. His mouth left hers as he made a trail across her collarbone, returning to the hollow of her neck to suckle deeply. His hips began to move in earnest, and Sara’s body bowed, her head thrown back in wanton desire. She met each thrust with her own, matching his pace as it quickened. Their breathing was short, rapid, hers scattered with moans and cries to God, and his deep with incoherent, repetitive muttering. The twist of his thumb and forefinger on her nipple, along with the nip of his teeth behind her ear finally sent her over the edge. Her body spasmed heavily, and she cried out loudly at its release. His pace slowed, and she clearly heard him say, “Honey, oh god…” as he rode her through her orgasm. When the afterglow took over and her body relaxed in submission, his hand left its place at her side and started a long caress of her body. She twitched in sensory overload and he kissed her softly along her brow, along her cheek, and softly on her lips. He hadn’t removed himself, only continued with the slow, steady rhythm he had set earlier. Her mouth met his hesitantly at first, but soon he deepened the kiss and the desire to have him returned. She began her own task of devouring his mouth with her own as she folded her legs closer towards her, allowing him to go deeper.

His pace quickened, and his hand slid down her side, sending small shivers through her skin to her spine. His fingers drifted lower, and as he began softly rubbing against there, her conscious spun out of control, lost. His ministrations continued and again her body was wracked in exquisite release. He didn’t slow his hips or stop his caresses this time and the sensations continued, her body thrusting against his in the primal throes of their lovemaking. She felt his teeth bite down hard into her shoulder as he pounded against her, finally releasing himself deep within her.

Many minutes later, spent, damp, and sore, Sara rolled slowly away from him, not meeting his gaze. Her eyes found the doorway to the master bathroom, and she slid herself gently out of his bed. Once inside, she shut the door quietly and ran the faucet in the sink for a few moments to reach temperature. She cleaned herself thoroughly, flushing away the physical evidence of their lovemaking and its intensity. Her mind flashed through a parody of processing Grissom’s bedroom, complete with ALS scanning. A choked giggle escaped her, and the reality of what she’d just done crashed into her. Her giggles turned to silent sobs, and she knelt in uncertainty on the soft white plush of the bath mat. Tears trickled down her cheeks slowly. What now?

With a deep breath, she calmed herself, willing her mind and body to focus. So she’d had sex with Grissom. So he’d fucked her more thoroughly than any man before him. So he hadn’t used a condom, and he hadn’t asked her whether she was on the pill. So what? She was, and had been for years. The risk was minimal. Still, he hadn’t asked, and it made her wonder if this, yet again, was another incident between them that would disappear from existence.

She stood, examining herself in his mirror, noticing the flush on her chest, the mark he’d left on her neck, and her rat’s nest of tousled hair. She looked like she felt, thoroughly and expertly fucked senseless. She sighed. Well, I’ve gotta go out there sometime. With a half-smirk and a shrug, she opened the small door to his bedroom.

It was empty. At that moment, her mind deciphered Grissom’s repetitive mumblings from earlier.

“Forgive me,” he’d said. “Please forgive me.”

Sara ran from the room, still naked, scanning the great room, the kitchen and the hallway. His leather coat that she’d seen earlier, hanging on a wooden peg by the front door, was gone. He’d left her.

Sara’s legs gave out from under her and she collapsed into a ball onto the carpet by the door.

He’d used his spare bathroom to clean himself, splashing cold water on his face over and over again until his fingers burned from the chill. He couldn’t face her; it was too much. His heart screamed at him not to leave, to stay, to confess his love for her, but logic and fear drove him to dress quickly and disappear. She could have caught him leaving, but she didn’t. She could have seen him drive away, but she didn’t.

He drove aimlessly, fear again keeping him from his destination. With a sigh, he turned right onto Lawson Avenue and continued until he’d reached the only place he could think of where he could speak freely, where someone would listen without passing judgment.

His footfalls echoed against the stained glass panes and wooden pews. He chose the second pew in on the left, and he sat slowly, resting his arms against the back of the pew in front of him, hands clasped together tightly. Head down, he prayed silently to the God he’d abandoned; prayed for forgiveness and absolution. He prayed for answers to that which he didn’t understand. And he prayed for direction, for guidance. What should I do?

Another set of footfalls ended his silent soliloquy. Father Powell approached slowly and sat next to him. “Doctor Grissom,” he stated in greeting with his normal hushed tone. Moments passed while neither man spoke.

“Bless me, Father,” Grissom said, his voice barely a whisper, “for I have sinned.”

A light hand rested on Grissom’s shoulder. “We can go to my chamber, if you’d like,” the priest said with a soft gesture towards the far alcove.

Grissom scanned the church. An older man was in the far back corner, lighting a candle, but other than him, the two men were alone.

“When is the next mass?”

“Not for a few hours.”

“I’d prefer to remain here, if possible,” Grissom replied in a quiet whisper, gazing at the image of Christ before him. Father Powell noticed, and settled in quietly next to him, waiting.

“In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit… Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” Grissom sighed as he crossed himself. “Deeply.” And he found he couldn’t continue. Head hung in shame, he lapsed into silence.

“Our Lord forgives all, my son. And you would not have graced my walls if this were not a grave matter. Speak freely and without fear.”

Grissom inhaled deeply, letting his breath out slowly in release. “I had sexual relations with a woman out of wedlock.”

“My son, the Church frowns upon such behavior, and although I do not condone it, I retain an open mind. Relations out of wedlock are not uncommon.”

“I seduced her. I took advantage of her. I have hurt her deeply and in committing this act, I may have hurt her even more.”

The priest sat up straight. “Did you force yourself upon her?”

“Yes.”

“My son, did she desire your attentions?” Father Powell’s voice was grave. He did not want to think what he was thinking about the man beside him.

Grissom exhaled bitterly. “Yes. She believes herself in love with me.”

It was the Father’s turn to scoff. “Doctor Grissom, pardon me for my confusion, but I am misunderstanding the situation. You say you forced yourself upon this woman, but she desired you and she loves you?”

“I manipulated her. I seduced her into… something that shouldn’t have happened.”

“Did you want it to happen?”

“Yes.”

“Did she?”

“Yes.”

“Clearly you have strong feelings for her; otherwise I’m sure this… event between you would not have happened. I sense your turmoil and truly, I am honored you chose my parish to unload your burden. Still, discounting your sin of relations out of wedlock, I am afraid I do not understand your problem.”

Grissom turned to the priest with a soft smile. “I am her supervisor.”

“I see.” He pondered this for a moment, considering Grissom’s profession. “Is it forbidden at your … office?”

“I believe so.” Grissom paused before stating, “Even if it is not, she could be fired, due to the politics of my department. Her reputation could be slandered. People would say she slept her way to the top. People would think less of her if she were involved with me.”

“What would these ‘people’ think of you?” Father Powell asked cautiously.

“Nothing. I don’t care what they think.”

“Yet you wish to protect this woman from harm, from the heresy of other’s opinions.”

“Yes, and I have failed. I have hurt her more than I ever felt possible. I left her, Father… afterwards. I left her in my home, and came here.”

“Oh boy,” said the priest, his composure slipping. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I didn’t know what else to do. She deserves better than me, and what I, what we did, it was wrong. I was weak, and I tempted her. I was weaker still when she confronted me on it, and I…” His voice trailed off.

“You need to talk with this woman, Doctor Grissom. Your concerns for her welfare and her career are justified, yet I fear that in abandoning her today, you have done more harm than good. If you care for her, as I suspect you do, you must speak with her and voice your feelings and your concerns to her. If you are fortunate, she will forgive your indiscretion today.”

“I did not mean to hurt her. But she deserves better than the likes of me.”

“My son, that is for her to decide, not you.”

Father Powell watched in silence as Grissom walked towards the double-doors at the rear of the church. You may have removed some of your guilt, Mr. Grissom, but you have not removed all of it. I wish you luck, and may God have mercy on your soul.

Sara stared at the bottle of Jack Daniels on her kitchen counter. Not counting her handprint along the neck, it was dusty from lack of use. It had been a while since she’d relied on her old pal Jack to help her through the day, but today wasn’t just another day.

Today she’d gotten laid. By Grissom. And she’d been dumped – also by Grissom. Now if that didn’t call for a drink… damn. She grabbed a small glass from her cabinet and with a quick twist of the cap and the experience of a habitual drinker, she filled the glass almost to the rim within seconds. As she lifted it to her lips, she paused.

She took a quick sip, noting the burn and the bitterness. With a scowl, she lowered the glass back to the counter. Getting smashed would not take away what happened today. It might numb her mind, but only temporarily. The scalding shower she’d taken earlier did not make her body forget what had happened. She felt his presence still, and no amount of water, soap, or alcohol would take that away.

With a sigh, she pushed the glass to the side. She walked slowly into her living room and sat gingerly in her chair. She fought for a time with the tears that so wanted to flow, until a knock on her door broke her out of her semi-conscious state.

Guess who.

No way was she answering that door. She tightened her robe around her waist subconsciously as she stood and tiptoed towards the peephole. Yup, there he was. She stood back and leaned against the far wall, crossing her arms across her chest. Let’s see how he likes it.

The knocking grew more insistent, and Sara’s smile grew wider. Would he break down the door? That would certainly attract some unwanted attention and her neighbors would be on the phone to 911 within seconds. The pounding on her door ceased, only to be replaced a minute later by the sound of a key turning the lock.

FUCK!! He’d found her spare key.

The door opened and he walked inside her apartment casually, like he owned the place. Like nothing was unusual at all about his presence here. Sara turned and strode away from him, not meeting the heated gaze she felt on her back. She walked into the kitchen and pounded the JD from earlier. Drowning in her sorrows was one thing – dealing with the cause as it prowls around your apartment is another issue entirely.

He saw her and his hand was on hers as she went for another. Sara jerked away from his grasp and took a long pull on the bottle. Big mistake, as she half-choked when the whiskey flowed a little quicker than she had anticipated.

Grissom yanked the bottle from her and set it on her counter, his glare a cool fire. “Stop it,” he growled.

“Last time I checked, I was a free woman and I could do whatever I wanted. Does getting fucked by you change that? Am I now branded as your property?” She tugged on the collar of her robe, exposing the mark he had left. His slight intake of breath and shifting gaze fueled her courage further. “Certainly looks like it, doesn’t it? Or are you just here for a repeat? Wondering if maybe it’ll end differently if it’s at my place?”

Grissom’s jaw tightened but he remained silent.

“By all means, let’s have us another experiment. Let’s find out. There’s no harm, right? No hurt feelings, right? Oh! But wait! You don’t give two shits about me or my damn feelings.” Sara gestured dramatically, hitting her palm against the side of her head. “How could I ever forget. So let’s get this over with.” And with a shrug and a flick of her wrist at the knot around her waist, her robe fell to the floor.

Grissom swallowed, his eyes devouring ever inch of her. Sara shivered a little at the intensity she saw there, but she stood firm and kept her expression defiant. Let him try and touch her now. He wouldn’t dare.

“Well,” she taunted him, “what are you waiting for?” She looked down at him brazenly. “It isn’t like I can’t tell you want it.”

The world went black for a second as he slammed his body into hers, pinning her against her refrigerator. His hands were gripping her shoulders tightly and his face was millimeters from hers, his labored breath hot on her cheek. She could feel the scratch of his clothing against her bare skin.

“Yes,” he hissed, “I want you. I’ve always wanted you. Your skin, your face, the heat of your body against mine.” He stepped back, lessening his grip on her as he stared at his hands and then lowered his eyes to the floor. “But it isn’t right.”

“Says you,” she snapped, but it came out a little more choked than she intended. Subconsciously she began to shiver.

“You know what people will say. You could lose your job.”

“For screwing you? What? You think you’re that important or something?”

He bent down and retrieved her robe from the floor. “You’re shivering,” he said as he handed it to her.

She swatted his hand away. “Don’t get all fucking mushy on me pal. You didn’t answer me. What do you think? You are some sort of god?”

“No. I think that if I were to promote you, people would say you slept your way into the promotion.”

“Please. As if. Doesn’t my track record prove my work?” She paused. “It isn’t enough, is it… that’s why you gave the Lead CSI to Nick. My work isn’t good enough to stand on its own.” She turned with her head down and retrieved her wrinkled bathrobe. She walked away from him as she slipped it back on, settling herself on her sofa.

“That’s not true,” he murmured. “Your work is excellent.”

Tears rimmed her eyes. “Then why?”

“People would say I did it for personal reasons. I couldn’t do it.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before.”

Grissom gave a half-shrug of acknowledgment, and Sara knew then that Brass had told him she was there in the observation room that day. God, they were a mess. No wonder he didn’t want to pursue this. They had one hell of a rocky past.

He sat down at the other end of her sofa, putting a distance between them. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You never had me to begin with, and that was by your choice, remember?” Sara glared at him. He looked rather small, there at the end of her couch. Tired, and old. For once, he looked his age. “What do you want, anyway? Why are you here?”

“I wanted to apologize.” He turned to face her, and she almost gasped at the painful emotions coming from his eyes. They were entirely too blue. She’d never seen them so blue. “I never meant to hurt you.” He looked away, sorrow and shame prevalent in his words. “I’m sorry if I hurt you… today. And every other day, too. But especially today.”

“You didn’t hurt me… today.” Wow, this was awful. Sara had never felt more guilty and awkward and sad in her life. What was happening?

He stood, dejected and defeated. “I don’t know what else to do. I just know I can’t do this anymore. If you won’t leave Vegas, I will. I’m sorry, for everything.” He turned and walked towards the door.

“Wait,” she said, her voice tight as she swallowed back a sob. “Just… wait.” She raised herself from the sofa and went to him. She placed her hand on his arm. He looked down at her hand, and then at her. So blue, those eyes. If he was truly leaving, then she had to ask. She had to know. “Do you love me?

He jerked his head away.

“No,” she said firmly, reaching for his face and resting her fingers against his beard. She pushed, turning his head back towards hers. “Answer me. Do you love me?”

He couldn’t meet her gaze, but he did answer. “I do.”

“Then why? Why run from it?”

“It isn’t right. You deserve better.”

“Untrue. I watched you with Teri Miller, and she was a world-renown forensics anthropologist. She was top in her field. I’m nothing more than a lowly CSI. How is it that she’s acceptable, but I am not?”

“She isn’t you. She could never be you.” He broke their connection and headed towards the door. “I need to go.”

“Coward. Go then. Run away from this like you always do. Just… don’t come back.” Her voice rose. “Do you hear me? Don’t come back!” Sara couldn’t stop herself from crying, it was just too much. She whirled and left him there at the doorway as she headed towards her bedroom. The emotion overtook her and she wailed into her pillow, her body shaking from her sobs.

She felt his weight as he sat next to her on her bed a few minutes later. In rebellion, she rolled and shifted away from him. A long time passed before he placed his hand on her shoulder. By then, her sobs had subsided and she was drifting in and out of the drained half-awake state of emotional exhaustion.

“Go away,” she croaked.

His voice was subdued, void of emotion. “You won’t forget about me if I leave, will you.”

“No, you damn bastard,” she mumbled into her pillow.

“You probably won’t find yourself another man, either. A younger and better man, one who could make you happier than I ever would.”

“No!” she barked as she faced him. “I will not go find another man. I don’t want…” The sobs threatened again, so she rolled back onto her side and curled up into herself. “Just go already.”

He started to stroke her hair softly. “I do love you… God, so very much. But look at what I do to you. It just isn’t right. It just wouldn’t work.”

Sara snorted. “The only reason it wouldn’t work is because you won’t even give it a chance. What the hell do you expect, perfection?”

“Shouldn’t I? Shouldn’t you?”

She rolled over and rage flared through her. “No, you idiot! Relationships aren’t like that. They aren’t black and white, like your damn science and your fucking bugs. They are messy and complicated and difficult. They are about two people who love each other enough to make sacrifices to have that person in their lives. They are never, ever perfect!” Finished with her tirade, she flopped back and stared at her wall, her blood pounding. Idiot.

“They should be. It would make things a lot easier.”

“Nothing that is worthwhile is easy, Grissom.”

“This is true.” Minutes passed before he spoke again. “Do you want me to leave?”

Sara blinked back the new tears and sighed. “No.”

“May I stay then? Here with you? Just for a little while longer. I… don’t want to go yet.”

“Do whatever you want,” she sneered bitterly.

“I want very much to love you,” he said, running his hand down her arm. “But I won’t unless you let me.”

She twisted her body to face him. “You’re something else, you know that?”

He tried to smile, but she saw the tightness in his jaw and the shine in his eyes. Her heart melted and she found herself wrapped around him in seconds. Tears started anew and she could feel his body shake slightly as he tried and failed to control his own emotions.

“Jesus,” she said into his chest as she wiped her face with the back of her hand, “what a fucking mess.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” He lowered his head and kissed her softly on her forehead. Her lips rose instinctively and his mouth met hers. They explored this new sensation for a while, until the need between them deepened. Sara felt the change within her, and found that she wanted nothing more than to be as close as possible to this man.

She needed it, and she needed it now. Her hands went for the buttons on his shirt, and he took her hand in his own. His eyes asked the question, and she answered it by pulling away from him and removing her robe. When she leaned forward, he needed no further encouragement.

He stood from the bed and removed his shirt. Then he removed his sneakers, socks and jeans. He wore briefs. Tightie-whities to be exact. Sara slid across the bed and reached for the waistband as she sat up. “We’ll have to work on these,” she murmured.

“What? My underwear?” He looked panic-stricken. “What’s wrong with them?”

“Boxers are much sexier,” she said as she gently lowered them down to get her first real glimpse of what was hiding behind that cotton. He groaned as she eased him out before sliding them down to his knees.

He stepped out of them slowly, Sara’s hand stroking him as he did so. “Sara… I…they’re uncomfortable… the boxers, I mean… oh god…”

When she slid off the bed and took him in her mouth, the growl from his throat was almost feral. She felt his fingernails dig into her shoulder blades and she purred at the sensation. You’re mine now, pal.

“Jesus… please, Sara…” His fingers ran through her hair, along her shoulders, and she felt him harden in her mouth as her tongue swirled around his tip. She debated whether to continue and take him to orgasm; or to have them finish this together in her bed. Both were tempting.

He made the decision for her as he suddenly pulled away. She looked up at him and he looked wild, distraught and feral. Damn if he wasn’t the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. He lifted her gently and crushed his lips to hers, his tongue violently probing.

Ooh, interesting. Grissom had a little kink in him.

They fell onto the bed together, and Sara was hit with a wave of insecurity. Before, at his place, it was darker. Here, it was light. What if she looked weird, or fat? What if he didn’t find her attractive?

He sensed her hesitancy. “What is it?” he asked, fear flashing across his face.

“I… just want you to like me.”

“Woman, I adore you. Your body, your hair, your face, your lips… God, your tongue has reached a new high point in my mind.” He stroked her body slowly, making her senses tingle and burn. “Don’t ever doubt, please.” His hand slid up her thigh and between her folds. “Don’t ever doubt,” he murmured as he kissed her softly and did something wonderful to her clit.

She moaned as his fingers entered her while he still continued his soft teasing strokes. Her moans grew louder as his pace intensified. “Please, oh shit… don’t stop.” He didn’t, and she felt her body clamp around his fingers as she came against them. Her breathing was choppy and harsh. His was as well as he removed his hand and replaced it with something much, much better.

She felt the heat of his breath on her neck as he exhaled harshly. “So hot… so damn wet… God, Sara… I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” she whispered as she pressed against him, driving him deeper. He felt so damned good, it was addicting. They met in a slow rhythm that quickly progressed to their fierce pace from before. Sara was sure she couldn’t get enough of him and when her body tensed and her pulse quickened, she spread her legs wide, opening herself as much as she could for him. He thrust himself in deep and hard, a light sweat dripping from his forehead. She felt him graze against that sensitive spot once, twice, and on the third time it sent her over the edge. Her ass tightened and her back arched as wave after wave crashed over her. It was too much for him as well, and she felt the burning heat from his release deep within her.

His weight collapsed on her and they lay there, spent. She felt him withdraw after a time, and the instant he left, she missed him. The walk to her bathroom was cold and lonely. She returned with a towel for him, and he grinned in appreciation.

“ C’mere,” he murmured huskily as she climbed back into her bed. It reeked of sex and pheromones. Jesus, what a day this had been. And they had work tonight? Yeesh. It was miracle she could walk.

She did snuggle up next to him, appreciating his warmth. “I love you Sara Sidle,” he whispered in her ear.

“I know,” she replied, reveling of the feel of his body against hers. She could definitely get used to this.

“Will you let me into your life? Despite everything, are you willing to give this a second chance?”

“I think the fact that you’re naked in my bed should answer that question for you.”

He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. “You are one in a million. I don’t deserve you.”

She smiled as her body started to drift into the haze of sleep. “Oh no, I think you deserve every bit of me that you’re going to get.” The last thing she heard was the chuckle disguising the undercurrent of fear in his voice.

“Something tells me you’re probably right about that.”