A/N Won't make sense if you haven't seen "Butterflied" (the confession scene was gold!)

PROLOGUE:

"You must be Sara Sidle."

Sara looked to her right to see that a tall, middle-aged man had seated himself beside her at the bar. In the dim lighting it took her a moment to realize who it was.

"Dr. Lurie."

"Please, call me Vincent."

"This is an odd place to meet you doctor."

She refused to call him by his first name.

Dr. Vincent Lurie had been the primary suspect in the murder case of one Debbie Marlins. The team had worked hard on that case, and it had nearly driven Grissom to a burn out. He had obsessed over the case and the team all wondered if a factor was the victim looked exactly like Sara, but they never spoke of it.

They had reached the conclusion that he had murdered his ex-lover because she had left him for a younger man. However, there wasn't enough evidence to convict him. He had a good lawyer who got him out of a sticky mess and he was still practicing medicine.

That had surprised Sara, that he still had the guts to go back to his day job. There had been a particularly haunting interrogation between him and Grissom, one where many things had been said that weren't said, in a way, and that she had seen all from the observation room. That was one incident that had haunted her ever since and confused and frustrated her even more.

Was Grissom truly relating to his personal feelings or was it a lure to draw the doctor into a confession? What did he truly think about Sara? Why couldn't he tell her? She hated him, hated him for always hiding, for never actually coming face to face with her about anything personal.

And she hated Vincent Lurie. He had killed a young woman, ready to get on with her life, to work, to live, to love, and he had taken it all away. And yet in a perverse way he reminded her of Grissom, and a small part of herself liked that through circumstance, the doctor had pulled what just might have been a genuine confession from Gil Grissom.

But only a small part.

"I was just at the bar, noticed you were here and decided to say hello."

"Really? You came over because you were feeling friendly? Because from what I can remember, the team and I made your life hell for a bit and almost put your career at stake, and you can feel friendly about that?"

"You were doing your jobs."

"How gracious of you to say doctor."

"Vincent. Let me buy you a drink."

As the night progressed, Sara was more than a little drunk. She was a tough girl and could hold her own, just because she was a little muddled didn't mean that she couldn't take care of herself, but she found herself warming up more towards the doctor.

She saw him as a broken person. The murder case, whether he had committed it or not, had truly hurt him. It had messed with him a little, and he was still a little neurotic and timid because of it. They had talked about all sorts of impartial subjects when it had slowly turned to their love lives. He was quite a bit drunk too, and his eyes went red.

"It's just…I haven't been able to get this off my chest to anybody before. It's been eating me up inside, I've wanted to tell someone but you must know how that would be like. It's too disturbing, I was a primary suspect, not even my sister would talk to me about Debbie."

He sighed and knocked back another shot glass.

"I loved her very much. But I knew, the whole time we were together, that it couldn't last. I always felt like a tag-along, as if she were doing me a favor by going out with me. I didn't really care at the time, I was grateful all the same, but there was always that tension…always that pressure to make sure I didn't tip her off into that direction.

"You see, I was living with rejection every minute I was with her."

He poured himself another shot glass, but swirled it in his hand.

"I was on cloud nine for awhile. We were friendly, everything seemed to be going well, it was so easy, the way we could interact with each other. Then, boom, the harshest rejection I've ever been on the receiving end of. You know, you try to let it go, you say, that's fine, that's how they feel and I can't do anything about it, but you always carry hope. Any friendly smile, any hello, you always see hope.

And it eats away at you."

Sara was quiet, nursing her own beer and after knocking back the shot glass he looked at her, trying to catch her gaze. She was staring off into space, pensive.

"You look like you know what I'm talking about."

Sara sighed and laughed a little self-consciously.

"I do."

She was about to lose herself in her own maudlin thoughts when she noticed he was still looking at her and felt like her story was due.

"It's nothing, it's stupid. I've just been in love with the one guy for awhile now. There are times when I'm sure he feels the same way, and other times I'm convinced of the exact opposite. It's not even a love-hate relationship, he just kind of shies away and hides and makes sure everything's so ambiguous that I still cling on. I just wish he'd tell me what he really felt about it so I could move on. I hate him for leaving me dangling."

Her words had seemed to just goosh out of her at the end and she was surprised at how much she had revealed. Not just to Vincent but to herself. But plus alcohol, it felt good too.

"I hate it."

Vincent looked at her with concerned eyes and she noticed her eyes had gone a little wet. She looked away embarrassedly and he smiled warmly, trying to make her feel less awkward.

"Hey, it's okay…who is the sonofabitch anyway, to make you so upset?"

She laughed again this time, out of alcohol and bitterness.

"My boss."

"The one who interrogated me?"

"Yes."

He handed her a tissue and they sat in silence for awhile.

"Sara Sidle, I think I can make you happy."

She raised an eyebrow.

"In a month, it will be February. Valentine's Day. I'll send you the biggest, best Valentine's you'll ever receive in your lifetime. Just you wait for that day Sara Sidle…"

And with one last charming grin he left a bill large enough to cover theexpense of both their drinks and left the bar.

He still had the smile on his face as he walked over to his car and he whispered to himself in the cold, January air.

"Gil Grissom…"