Putting together a party was, Grissom reflected, awfully hard work.

It wasn't as if he hadn't had help, of course. Warrick, Catherine, Nick, Greg, and Brass had all been more than willing to provide what assistance they could—excepting, of course, the boring legwork and organization part of the deal. He was the supervisor, and as such, he was expected to deal with the bore-your-brains-out aspect of, well, everything. Was it any wonder he sometimes felt more like a father than an equal?

This part was his brain-child, though, and so he took responsibility where another time he might have forced equal partitioning of the interesting and tedious parts. He wanted this to be perfect, or as close as possible, and if that meant he had to put in more time and effort than anyone else, well, so be it.

He'd never thrown a party before. He couldn't possibly have anticipated what came with such a decision.

First of all, there were the invitations. On the guest list was everyone in the lab as well as about ten of Sara's close friends. Luckily, over half of them worked in some aspect of law enforcement, so getting their addresses was easy enough. The rest had to be found in the somewhat less approved method: looking in a Vegas phone book.

Once that was taken care of, there was all the many details. For example, balloons. How many? Where? What colors? What combinations of those colors? In typical fashion, one or the other of his CSIs would wander in from time to time giving "helpful" suggestions, leaving his head aching even more than usual at the end of the day. In the end, Grissom simply picked out two colors he knew were her favorites and one more he thought she'd like and hung them in bunches scattered throughout the break room.

He knew she was worth the work. What's more, he knew the work was necessary.

He wanted to remind her of all the people here that loved her. He wanted her to know how much she was wanted, even needed here. That was what she'd been forgetting lately. A party seemed the best way to remind her, as well as fun for all involved.

And okay, maybe he was kind of hoping her gratitude might help melt the anger she still held towards him. Not that he blamed her for it, of course, but until that anger was removed he couldn't begin to make amends. And after that, maybe they could start over. Maybe they could get that dinner like she'd wanted…

He didn't know what was going to happen, but for the first time in a long time, he felt hopeful and willing to take a chance.

Grissom heard footsteps in the hall and felt a smile of anticipation (and slight fear) cross his face.

Please like it, he thought. Please, God, please let her like it.

They were all hidden in the room. They'd decided to let her drop her stuff in the locker room and then have Nick steer her into the break room.

The door opened.

Grissom popped the lights and shouts of "surprise!" rang throughout the room.

She jumped back an inch before a smile of realization spread itself across her lips. She shook her head. "How did you…what…how did you even know?"

"Grissom," Catherine said. She stepped forward, gift in hand. "He told us and arranged all of this."

Sara's mouth opened, but no sound came out. Her eyes sought his in the crowd and she swallowed. Finally, regaining her voice, she said simply, "thank you."

He nodded, overcome with gratitude for that moment of fragile connection. "Everyone helped," he said quietly.

She nodded, but the thanks in her eyes was still there, and it was still for him.

Everyone came forward for a hug. Grissom stood last in line, feeling supremely self-conscious. Everyone got a short hug; Warrick, Nick, and a blushing Brass got pecks on the cheek. Greg was about to get one when he turned and tried to catch it on his mouth. Sara turned from him at the last moment, laughing, and Greg had to make do with a hug like everyone else. Titters abounded at his exaggerated pout.

Finally, it was his turn. He went up to her awkwardly, fighting the urge to lick his lips. He felt as if all eyes in the place were on them.

Finally, she took him into a one-armed embrace and gently kissed his cheek. He felt the imprint of her lips, warm and soft, and tried not to shake.

He whispered softly into her ear before they parted, "Happy birthday, Sara."

Greg doubled as D.J for the night. Thankfully, he allowed regard for Sara to overcome his own taste in music for the night, and Grissom was able to listen without getting a headache.

Sara, for her part, rediscovered her love for dancing.

She didn't know why. It didn't make any sense, considering the rest of her personality. She should have detested it; she just didn't. She loved it. She loved music, and dancing was the only time she had ever felt comfortable in her own skin for the slightest moment. She swing-danced with Warrick danced songs from her teenagehood she'd forgotten about/blocked out with Nick and Greg and her friend James on the PD force. She felt oddly free.

It's my birthday, she thought. I have that power.

And for whatever reason, that's what it was: power.

It was boldness born of that power that led her to ask Grissom to dance. He couldn't say no, not after everyone she'd danced with everyone else. For all he knew, it could be a perfectly platonic request; for all she knew, it could be the only time she'd ever know what it felt like to be in his arms.

She was planning for the song to be something simple and cheerful-no pressure—but Greg, watching them, took the opportunity to change the music to an old love song. Sara didn't know what to do, afraid he'd just agreed to something he probably hadn't wanted to do in the first place and now undoubtedly felt supremely uncomfortable about. She considered making some joke to let him off the hook when she felt his hand on her waist. He took her other hand into his and began to sway them along to the music.

After a moment, Sara put her hands on his shoulders. She would have liked to wrap them around his neck and pull him closer, but not with all these people watching. She felt as if a spotlight had landed on them dancing, even though everyone else was continuing to talk without interruption. She felt as if, because her universe had just stopped, theirs should have too, but that apparently wasn't the way the world worked. Thank god, too, because if it was, she wouldn't have had even this one moment. This moment of pure, unadulterated bliss was worth it, no matter what happened later on.

She thought, It's my birthday, and I can do anything.

She lowered her head to rest on his shoulder. He paused for a moment, going cold and then hot as the heat from her entered his body. He continued dancing, but before he did, he inhaled deeply, taking in the exact scent of her and memorizing it.

After the song ended, they stepped quickly away from each other, neither quite sure how what to say. Thankfully Catherine chose that moment to bring out the cake, saving them both.

It was carrot, of course. It was both Sara's favorite cake and a private joke; he would never again forget she was a vegetarian. She grinned and bit back a laugh when she saw it, knowing exactly what had been going through his mind when he picked it out. Knowing, for once, that she understood something about him completely.

Catherine placed the cake before her and stuck on two clumps of three candles each, making Sara laugh. "All right, make a wish!" she called gaily.

Sara took a deep breath.

Before she blew out the candles, she caught sight of Grissom's face, lit by the dancing flames of the candles. He was looking at her with an intensity he usually only wore when spending time so deep inside a case no one could follow him there.

What did she want more than anything? That was too easy a question. It had been for years.

It's my birthday, and I can do anything.

She blew out the candles.

Much later, after all the guests had left and the other CSIs had shooed her out while they cleaned up, she found herself wandering into Greg's lab to check the sample on the latest victim whose story she was searching for. She started remembering the first case she'd ever had, reminiscing a little at how excited she'd been, and fell into the pool of her mind. She was so deep she didn't notice him come in until she heard his voice behind her.

"Sara?"

She jumped back against the lab counter, startled. He studied her, and she swallowed as her pulse began to return to normal. "God, you scared me."

"I'm sorry," he offered. "I just…what're you doing here? You should be going home."

"I know," she said, sighing a little, her muscles beginning to relax (at least, as much as they ever did when he was around). "I just wanted to check on the sample before I left."

He nodded. If there was one thing he understood, it was the dedication that drove her.

He picked up something on Greg's desk, idly rolling it around in his hand. His face was outlined against the light.

She remembered what she'd wished and swallowed, wishing it wasn't so hard to do, wishing she had more courage.

"Sara," he started, "I think you-"

It's my birthday, and I deserve this much, at least.

She didn't give him a chance to finish. She flew across the room and pressed her lips against his.

He kissed her back almost immediately; so surprised, she figured, that he didn't know what else to do. She kissed him almost desperately, trying to memorize every sigh, every movement, every curve of his mouth. Finally, she stepped back. He spoke first, his voice husky and lower than she'd ever heard it. "Sara," he said, "what-what do you-"

"I don't want to talk about it," she interrupted. She attempted a smile. "Please, Grissom, I know where we stand. I just wanted…once, you know? It's my birthday. I guess I just wanted one thing I really wanted today. But I don't expect it to ever happen again or anything like that."

He nodded, taking it all in. He did not, however, correct her. She turned to go before he could see the tears filling her eyes.

"Sara?" he said. She turned slowly to face him. His face was filled with that same intensity she'd seen earlier. His eyes were dark and deep and reflected her face.

"You know," he said, drawing closer to her, "I've only been wishing for one thing ever since you got here. And it always seemed just a little bit out of reach, even when it seemed like you were handing it to me. I was always too afraid to accept that the offer was real." He looked at her dead on. "I'm not afraid anymore."

"So what do you want?" She meant to ask normally, but it came out in a whisper.

"Breakfast." The word rushed out of him, the syllables tripping over one another. "Maybe—maybe we could start at breakfast and work our way up to dinner?"

"That would be good," she said, allowing herself to smile. "Tomorrow, maybe, after shift?"

"Great," he said, smiling, a little amazed. "That'd be great. Tomorrow, then."

She nodded, smiling back.

Fall is the best time for new beginnings, she thought.

And she had the feeling that this one might not ever end.