A/N This is it, the final chapter of Breakfast with Sara. I always feel a little sad when these things come to an end, it's been so much fun. Thanks to all of you who've stayed with this story, despite the long intervals between updates! Your reviews have been greatly appreciated, along with the Crimmy Award nomination for one of my other stories. Finally, special thanks go to Eileen, Ms. Grits, and smryczko for their helpful comments and support.

Please note this chapter is rated 'T' (or R) to reflect mature content.

Chapter 9 Laws of Nature - Bodies in Motion


Although Sara was somewhat disoriented as she gradually stirred, her lips were curved in a satisfied grin. She could sense the bright sunlight streaming into the room, but she stubbornly resisted its prompting, keeping her eyelids shut to prolong the luxurious comfort of lounging in bed. Lying on her back, the cocoon of soft sheets felt deliciously safe and warm, along with the reassuring weight of Grissom's arm draped possessively across her bare stomach. She languidly stretched her legs and burrowed closer to him so she could feel the ebb and flow of his breath whispering against her shoulder and neck. He was sleeping peacefully.

She wasn't overly concerned about the fact that she was completely naked and had absolutely no clue where her underwear was. After all, it wasn't as if this was some anonymous encounter of her earlier years in which she'd valiantly attempted to convince herself that having sex was the equivalent of being loved. She had no reason to act as she had then – rapidly dressing after a rushed encounter and then darting out the door, feeling emotionally unsatisfied and filled with regrets. For this relationship had far more potential than that.

Thinking about her past led her to wonder what type of romantic associations Grissom was accustomed to. Being such a private man, she wasn't entirely certain. However given his unusual actions over the past few weeks, especially their passionate kisses at the crime scene in the wee hours of that morning, she strongly suspected that their relationship would be a whole new venture for him as well.

Sara peered through her lashes to admire her lover's physique. She'd watched Gil Grissom from a distance for so long, steeling furtive glances here and there. It was refreshing to finally be able to examine him this closely and without reservations. While his intellect had always dynamically engaged her, from the very beginning she'd been physically attracted to him as well.

How pleased she was to discover that those well-muscled arms lead to an equally toned chest. She lightly traced his torso with her fingertips and then lingered on his stomach. Although he'd put on some weight since she'd met him at that forensics seminar in San Francisco, he carried it well. As her eyes darted lower, she remembered how curious she'd been about other aspects of Grissom, the man. She hadn't been disappointed, not in any respect.

Her eyes lazily drifted shut as she recalled the events that lead up to their making love. Their breakfast plans hadn't gone exactly as anticipated, though she had no complaints. Originally, she intended to seriously discuss their groundwork, to be certain that Grissom was as committed to a long-term relationship as she was. For as deeply as she loved him, she knew her heart would break if his interest in her were only casual. She couldn't handle a brief fling; that would destroy her. Thus she needed to know exactly where she stood with him.

She was nervously perched on the bench in the locker room, trying to straighten out her snarled locks with a comb as she mentally rehearsed suitable phrases. Even though the faint aroma of smoke still clung to her hair and clothing (one of those dreaded occupational hazards in her line of work) she wasn't about to let that interfere with her plans. She couldn't tolerate any more delays.

She was excited yet she refused to glance at the time until she was certain it was after seven o'clock. In fact, to avoid appearing overly eager, she purposely sat with her back to the entrance of the room. She planned on giving Grissom at least ten extra minutes before she rose to locate him.

Unfortunately she wasn't alone; Sofia was in the locker room too. She was droning on about something. Sara merely nodded politely at what she hoped were appropriate intervals, pretending she was listening to the other woman. When Sofia's vocal inflection suddenly changed, she realized that Grissom had entered the room.

"What's up?" Sofia asked, her tone subtly becoming deeper, sexier.

Grissom ignored her, focusing his attention directly on Sara, who was still combing her hair. "You ready?"

Sara smiled shyly as she looked up, pleased to note that the shift hadn't officially ended yet. He was early. And she was even more thrilled that he'd initiated the proceedings, he was most definitely taking charge. Trying to be casual, she replied, "Yeah, give me a minute." She turned to gather her purse from her locker.

"You need help with a case Grissom? I don't have any plans in particular. I can help you out," Sofia offered as she stepped closer to him.

"Er…no, that's not necessary," he stammered.

"No, really. I don't mind. I'd be happy to help," she insisted.

After closing the door to her locker, Sara scrutinized Grissom's face, wondering if he could stick to his promise. This was a monumental step for him.

More confidently he responded, "No, thanks. It's not like that. Sara and I have… plans."

Sara could scarcely control her triumphant grin she was so impressed, even Sofia was temporarily speechless. Grissom took advantage of that moment, gesturing that Sara should join him and they left the locker room together.

Sara was ecstatic but all of their obstacles hadn't been conquered. Would they be able to escape the confines of the building without encountering additional delays? Their track record over the past few days had been terrible. Subconsciously, they picked up the pace, taking brisk steps. As they passed the front desk, Judy shouted that she had a message for Dr. Grissom. He didn't slow down or look back, merely tossing over his shoulder that he'd attend to it later.

After they'd reached the main door and stepped into the parking lot, they allowed themselves a second to smirk giddily at one another. Grissom threw caution to the wind, his arm greedily snaking around her waist, pulling her closer to him as he guided her down the concrete stairs towards his vehicle.

They both had gotten a little too caught up in the moment since Sara only noticed Detective Larson's open mouthed stare as she closed the passenger side door to Grissom's SUV. When she told Grissom about the man's astonished expression, they both broke out laughing.

Typically Grissom and Sara were both cautious people; it was inherent in their nature. Her original goal was to have breakfast in some neutral territory, such as a restaurant, so they could calmly discuss their wants and needs in order to alleviate any fears or doubts; and also to resist the strong temptation of jumping into a physical relationship too quickly.

Yet those rational thoughts had somehow vanished the instant he reached across the SUV to squeeze her hand. Apparently he was on the same wavelength as she was, for he didn't bother to go through the pretense of discussing where they were going. Without a word spoken, it was tacitly agreed that they weren't craving food. When Sara realized that they were approaching Grissom's townhouse, she nodded with approval and poorly concealed anticipation.

Once they stepped into his townhouse, all remaining restraint completely disappeared. Grissom yanked her into his arms, kissing her deeply as they clung to one another. Under different circumstances, their advances might have been more tentative, more controlled. That would've been much more in keeping with who they were. However all the waiting, all those infuriating delays that had taunted them for over a week since their interrupted night at the opera had only served to whet their appetites, to stoke their desire to finally touch each other. There wasn't room in their brains for common sense to reign anymore.

They'd been fully captivated by the overwhelming sensations overtaking their bodies: the warmth of his bare flesh caressing hers as he shoved his hands underneath her shirt, the dampness of his kisses trailed over her lips and cleavage, the gentle suction of her wet kisses on his neck, the tantalizing friction developing between his growing erection and her pelvis.

All too soon, shirts were yanked, zippers tugged, and other pieces of clothing were haphazardly tossed aside. Nearly breathless and partially naked, they staggered into his bedroom, vaguely resembling a mythical two-headed beast for they were loathe to break physical contact for even a moment. After tumbling onto his mattress, they tore at the remnants of their clothing to remove them, stripping to bare flesh. He pinned her beneath him almost immediately for they didn't need to spend much time on foreplay; they were more than ready. Thank goodness Grissom had condoms handy in his nightstand, for in their haste that important factor wouldn't have stopped either of them.

Their frantic, rushed groping had lead to an equally intense coupling. It had been powerful and exhilarating, more wonderful than she ever imagined it would be. Even though it occurred only a few short hours ago, Sara's body still tingled. She fondly remembered that although they were driven at a feverish pace, Grissom's lovemaking hadn't focused simply on his own pleasure. He'd been extremely attentive to her responses and eager to satisfy her as well.

While no utterances of love had mistakenly slipped out, cries of pleasure and tender endearments had certainly filled the air. She beamed as she recalled how Grissom murmured several times about how beautiful she was. And for the first time, she honestly felt as if she'd seen him experiencing his true emotions, rather than masking his responses by presenting a cooler more composed facade. The idea made her giddy. He certainly didn't seem to be holding anything back as she watched his features convulse in ecstasy during his climax.

Of course, she reminded herself as she lounged in bed, still savoring the warmth of his embrace, they hadn't resolved the terms of their relationship. Yet, even though nothing had been vocalized, her confidence was steadily creeping upward with respect to that. After all, the seemingly eternally closed, emotionally unavailable Gil Grissom had brought her to his home, his private refuge, on his own initiative no less. He was comfortable with her sleeping in his bed; he wasn't scrambling to chase her out the door after they'd made love.

Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten in a while. In fact she was surprised to discover that she was famished. The events of the past few months had caused her appetite to dwindle along with reeking havoc with her digestion. For the first time in a while, she felt ready to tackle a full course hearty breakfast. When she felt like waking up, that is, she was still drowsy.

Mmm…what is that? Is Grissom moving?

His hands definitely were, gently stroking her stomach then slowly working their way down lower to caress her thighs. Apparently he was hungry for something else. His touch alone made her long for him, causing all thoughts of food or serious discussion to vanish once again. She kept her eyes closed while enjoying the pleasurable sensations enveloping her body.

When she attempted to turn towards him, Grissom insisted that she simply relax. So she did. His fingers eventually reached her core, which was already damp in anticipation of his attention. His touch was light and slow at first, gradually picking up fire and tempo. Her hips began to sway in response.

Sara was becoming impatient as her arousal escalated and her pelvis started bucking more intently. She wanted more. "I need you now, baby," she begged hoarsely. Then she roughly pulled Grissom towards her, greedily covering his mouth with hers as he straddled her body, eager to accommodate her. When he entered her, she wrapped her legs tightly about his. He was amazing gentle at first, moving slowly, sensually. As his excitement increased, a fierce groan was torn from his throat and he was unable to hold back. His thrusting become more powerful as they both found their release.

Their skin was damp as they collapsed against one another, breathing heavily. Grissom slid to his side and pulled her closer to him. With her head resting against his chest, she could feel his heart thudding. It was a reassuring sound; it was wonderful to be this close to him.

She was half-afraid to say anything, as if she would break whatever magical spell had allowed the past few hours to occur. Unfortunately, reality reared its ugly head before long.

Oh my God. We didn't use any protection.

Sara's body stiffened at the thought. It hadn't occurred to either of them to use a condom that last time. Such rash actions frightened her. While the past few hours with Grissom had been like some gossamer dream, she needed to touch base with solid ground again.

Grissom noticed her reaction. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she mumbled into his chest, reluctant to ruin the moment. But the atmosphere had subtly changed anyway. She suspected that he didn't believe her. So she looked up to face him and bravely suggested, "We should probably talk about…this." Tired of playing games, she added, "About us."

Grissom immediately seemed less confident, though not as shaken as he'd been at the crime scene. "I'm sorry Sara, I didn't want to rush things. It doesn't make any sense; I can't seem to control myself when it comes to you." He blinked in alarm and rapidly assured her, "You know this isn't just about sex, don't you?"

"Of course. Otherwise I'm sure we would've found a way to get it out of our systems long before now." They'd both had their share of casual sexual encounters with others in the past. It was hard to keep her hands off him; her fingertips lovingly traced the edge of his bearded jaw.

"This isn't like me," he muttered, avoiding her gaze. "I don't understand why I'm behaving this way."

"I have a theory I think you can relate to," she smiled, becoming mildly amused by his discomfort. His eyebrow raised, she had his undivided attention. "Newton's law."

"Force is equal to mass times acceleration?" Despite his circumstances, the wheels of his mathematical mind never seemed to stop whirring.

"No, the first law which can be effectively paraphrased as a body in motion tends to stay in motion."

"Yeah?" He wasn't making the connection.

Her grin became more confident. "Correct me if you disagree, but once you decided that this…relationship was something you wanted to pursue, in a sense, you set certain bodies into motion."

"And?" He wasn't following, yet he wasn't objecting either.

She was taking a risk here, but she honestly believed that she was correct in her assumptions. "Consider our opera date as officially starting the bodies into motion. If we hadn't been called in that night, think about the chain of events that would've inevitably occurred. Yet, that natural motion, that course of events, was interrupted."

Her face became flushed and her eyes wandered to parts of his anatomy as she thought of an apt example to illustrate her point. "You could compare that to say, a stallion starting a race."

He chuckled at her choice of words, while also noticing where her gaze was drifting. He was becoming more relaxed. His fingers began to knead her arm.

"He's fit, he's been in training so he's more than ready, he's raring to go, practically aching to run the race. The starting bell rings and he barrels out of the gate. If it had been a false start, do you think the horse would simply stop without a protest? It would be next to impossible for his jockey to rein him in quickly." Her brown eyes were fixed upon his as her voice became deeper. "It's not easy to stop such a powerful force once you put it in motion. It's hard to resist."

She assumed that he agreed with her, for suddenly he was busily kissing her neck.

'Mmm…yeah, hard to resist," he commented between kisses as he worked his way up her neck to her lips.

"Shouldn't fool around with the forces of nature," she teased as she wrapped her arms about his shoulders. His mouth captured hers and their kisses became deeper.

A sound startled them. They froze, but didn't break apart. It took them a moment to realize that the phone was ringing.

No. Not again.

Both were reluctant to part, but their training was automatically setting in. Duty called. After all, it was part of the job, part of who they were. Grissom straightened up, clearly disoriented, trying to remember where his cell phone was.

"Where are my pants?"

"Living room?" Sara guessed as she scanned the floor for their discarded clothing. Vaguely she could recall tugging them off somewhere in the house while he was still standing.

After stumbling around unsuccessfully trying to locate his pants, Grissom realized that his home phone was the one ringing. He picked up the receiver from the base on the nightstand.

"Yeah, Grissom," he curtly barked.

Maybe it's not work related, it's not his cell. Yeah, right. I don't have that kind of luck. Most likely the office tried his cell first and since he didn't answer it, they're calling his home phone.

Grissom listened for a moment then explained, "Look, you're gonna have to try Catherine or Sofia. I'm taking a few personal days. Don't call me. And by the way, CSI Sidle wasn't feeling well at the end of shift yesterday so she'll be taking a few sick days too. Good bye." He hung up, giving the other person no time to argue.

Sara was stunned.

Grissom wasn't sure how to interpret her expression. "I hope I wasn't being too presumptuous."

Her smile blossomed as she sank onto the edge of the bed. "Not at all. Where were we?"

"I remember but I think we need to talk with fewer distractions." He stepped over to open his closet to remove a dark blue bathrobe. As he put it on, Sara began to casually scan the room for one of Grissom's work shirts or even a T-shirt, something to wear. Perhaps she could improvise with his bed sheets?

He emerged from the closet, holding something behind his back. Somewhat sheepishly he explained, "I hope you won't take this the wrong way. I have a gift for you." Then he handed it to her.

The sleek maroon fabric felt smooth against her hands. It was the same color as her evening gown, which she noticed hanging against his closet door. She unfolded the bundle to discover that it was a short silk robe, which hit her about mid-thigh. The outside was covered with brilliantly colored butterflies. Immediately, she tried it on and admired it. It was a perfect reminder of their first date and his love for insects.

"It's beautiful. Where did you get this?" She was amazed by the thought and effort that went into the gift. She wondered when he'd had the time to shop.

"Internet," was all he would say.

Clad in their robes, they settled more comfortably on his bed, with their backs against the headboard, leaning against each other. She wanted to snuggle up more closely to him, but they'd been putting this off for too long.

No more distractions.

"Grissom, I need to know. What's different now? Last year I heard you tell a complete stranger that you couldn't do it. You couldn't risk losing everything for me. What's changed?" Her lower lip trembled nervously. She hoped he would answer her question.

His expression revealed how shocked he was that she knew of his confession. Yet, he was collecting his thoughts.

"A lot of things."

She prayed that she wouldn't have to lead him through the entire conversation. "Such as…"

"I thought you were more like Debbie."

Her eyes widened.

He quickly added, "Not that you were shallow or slept around, God no. But that your feelings for me would pass. That I was just a crush that you'd be over within a few months. That you'd be moving on and I'd be….well…" His voice trailed off as he sighed.

She waited, anxious to avoid prompting him. A minute dragged by as she stubbornly held her tongue; resisting the urge to speak for him.

It was almost as if he was trying to figure it out himself. Finally he said, "When you told me that you'd come to Vegas for me. That I'd always been more than a boss to you. That's when things started to change."

"You could've fooled me the way you were flirting with Sofia," slipped out before she could stop it. It wasn't pleasant, but she needed the truth. She needed to be able to trust him completely.

"I'm not going to deny that. It's true. I don't know why I….no, I do. I do know why. I was scared Sara. I'm used to order, being in control. I like it. Sofia wasn't you. She was safe. I knew the rules, I knew exactly where I stood. I wasn't risking anything."

"So what's changed?" She doggedly repeated her original question.

He struggled to explain. "Honey, do you remember when I came to your apartment? When Ecklie wanted to fire you for mouthing off to Catherine?"

She nodded.

More softly he reminded, "When you told me about your parents."

She nodded again.

He seemed a little embarrassed to continue. "Ever since then, I've been having these dreams. No, more like nightmares. They start off with you and I interrogating a suspect. Everything seems normal until you lose your temper with him and then he slams his fist into your nose." He involuntarily flinched while saying the latter words.

She was touched; it was obvious from his tone and his scowl that those dreams had disturbed him. In fact, she recalled that Grissom had mentioned to her fairly recently that he'd been having trouble sleeping. From the shadows forming beneath his eyes at the time, it was evident that these dreams had been wearing him down.

Still Sara had to point out. "You went out to dinner with Sofia soon after that day in my apartment."

He admitted it. "You're right. I was trying to talk her into not leaving the lab." Then he added, "I was also trying to keep my mind off of you."

She made a connection. "That's why you took me out to breakfast later that week. Because you were concerned about me." To think that she'd been afraid that he was trying to find a polite way to fire her.

He emphasized, "No Sara, I was worried about you."

"What's the difference?" she chuckled. He still hadn't answered her question to her satisfaction and she wasn't going to let him off. "So what's changed?"

Something had. It must've happened shortly after that fateful breakfast date. It had started with a subtle change in his attitude towards her, though she couldn't pinpoint the exact day. Although Detective Larson's interest may have helped her advance her cause, it hadn't initiated the fundamental changes. Something had shifted within Grissom himself.

He was having some difficulty explaining. "Um..maybe a week or two after the original dream had started, it changed. It got worse. Instead of ending after that bast…um…idiot hit you, the dream continued. I reacted to what I saw." His voice became fainter. "I…I pulled out my gun and shot him in the head." A hint of emotion had crept into his voice so he stopped to better compose himself.

"You know, the funny thing is that I didn't even care that I killed him, that I actually took a human life. I killed him because he hurt you and that was unacceptable to me. I couldn't live with that."

His words were brimming with emotion. If that wasn't a declaration of love, it was close enough. She leaned closer to him, grabbing his hands to offer comfort. "Did you have those dreams a lot?"


"Have you still been having them?"

He realized, "Not as much. I don't think I've had them since I asked you out."

Since he decided to commit himself to pursuing me.

Just to be certain, she asked, "Are you sure about this? That you want to have a relationship with me? It's not too much to handle?"

He confessed, "It is too much to handle. But I'm miserable without you. Can you help me figure out how to do this? Do you think you can put up with my mistakes?"

"Sure," she kissed his lips gently. He tried to part her lips with his tongue but she pulled back. There was one more concern.

Her heart started beating a little faster. She wasn't sure how he'd react to this. "Grissom, we forgot to use a condom the second time. What if…"

He put his arms about her to reassure her. Calmly, he told her, "We'll deal with it as it comes. Either way. Together."

Sara's stomach had bad timing, growling loudly enough to cause both of them to laugh.

"I need food," Sara claimed, with great relief. "I'm starving."

He started to reach for the phone. "What are you in the mood for? We can order pizza or Chinese?"

She reminded him with a smirk "You promised me breakfast. I don't care if it's three in the afternoon. Can you make good on it?" She seriously doubted that he'd have anything edible in stock, given the hectic nature of the past week. Yet he surprised her.

Grissom insisted upon making omelettes. She had pulled up a chair to watch as he puttered around the kitchen, still clad in his dark blue robe. He carefully cracked the eggs and grated the cheese. He had to improvise for additional ingredients, using canned mushrooms rather than fresh ones, but the aroma drifting from the pan was tantalizing. Her mouth was watering in anticipation.

As Grissom folded the omelet in the skillet, he shyly told Sara, "By the way, I'm the type that likes to have breakfast everyday too."