A/N: This was written for this week's Unbound challenge. My first ever. I'm just flowing with creativity aren't I! I love feedback, it is nummy, feedback, feedback, in my tummy sings. Oh, and yes, you're right, I didn't put a little "FIN" at the end of this...because I don't know if it is finished.

Description:Grissom and Sara have a discussion. GSR

Disclaimer: GOD! They aren't MINE! cries IT SUCKS! But…um yeah, they belong to CBS, and people who don't really appreciate them. If they gave them to me, I'd love them forever…hell they'd love each OTHER forever…

It was good advice, but sometimes Grissom felt like he followed it a little too closely. He had suddenly become a very cautious man without knowing what happened. In fact sometimes he was even barely recognizable to himself. He recently was only capable of looking so far ahead that it was beginning to get ridiculous. He knew that a habit like that could paralyze a man with self-doubt and uncertainty.

He knew that it was impossible to live without taking chances, but he also found himself unwilling to take chances. So here he was, at an impass, waiting for life to pass him by.

And Sara was right there next to him, whether he liked it or not. Literally, she was standing by his side, looking out over the roof they were on.

"You always look before you leap," she repeated.

"Actually, very few suicidal jumpers look. They usually close there eyes, or take of there glasses."

Sara remained silent, and he realized that they hadn't been talking about the case at all. They both realized this, but they weren't going to acknowledge that. This was the game they played, and neither had the strength or the will to stop it.

"We're sure this is a suicide?" Sara asked, breaking his train of thought.

"Well, we haven't found any evidence to the contrary, and Brass talked to the boyfriend…or rather ex-boyfriend. Apparently, she really had a thing for him."

"So she jumped off her apartment building? Maybe the ex killed her."

"Maybe," Grissom admitted, "But there's no evidence for that."

Sara nodded silently.

"Maybe she was just heartbroken. Maybe she thought she really couldn't live without him, so she made sure she didn't," Grissom offered.

"Yeah," Sara replied, "I'm sure it's tough."

And it was.

"I'd never do anything like that though," Sara added, looking once again at the steep drop.

They were still not talking about the case. The case was over. The case was through. But here they were, standing on the ledge of a building, waxing poetic about lost love. Saying things they needed to say in the only way they knew how; through their work.

"People can change, though," Sara added.

"I hope so."

"Things could have gotten better."

"I'm sure they will," Grissom nodded, and they both noted his interesting choice of tense.

The girl was dead; nothing would get better for her. Now they really weren't talking about the case, but it's better to pretend, it's always easier. The girl was dead, but they were both very much still alive. They might not be living, but they were alive, there was still time.

"Grissom?" Sara ventured.

"Yes Sara," his reply was soft, barely audible over the wind which came over the top of the building.

"It always hurts."

"Yeah."

"You should know something..."

"What?"

"This isn't your last chance, but it's the best one."