Title: Sara

Genre: CSI – Las Vegas

Paring: Sara and Grissom

Rating: T

Timeline: Reflective – Up to season six

Spoilers: Some…

Summery: Grissom torture – I had fun with Horatio now it's Grissom's turn to qualm.

Disclaimer: Once upon a time, many years ago, there was a team of writers who created these characters… I was not one of them.

Author Notes: It has been a while since my muse played with these two… but this was the first tangible thing Missy's came up with after her abrupt ten-day hiatus – so I humoured her.

Status: Missy? . . . She's shrugging her shoulders, so she's undecided on this one.

Written: May 2012

Word count: 1,380 (let her ease into it.)

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Grissom entered his condo after shift. It had once again been a trying one, not the cases so much as her – always her…

He stepped into his kitchen and opened the fridge, releasing a dejected sigh. He should eat something, but he was not hungry for anything – and that was also because of her. Closing the fridge he turned towards the lounge area. He had a thesis he was working on and his bugs to see to, however neither seemed to really draw his interest anymore. Most of the time he sat in a daze, thinking about her. Going over what they had said to each other during shift. The break up of the team had been hard to accept, it had been a personal blow, and Ecklie knew it. However, he had gotten to keep Sara, and that had made it a bit more bearable – in some ways. But in others, he was in hell.

With the team about, he had not needed to contend with working with her as often or as closely as he did now. And although seeing her face, and the now rarely displayed smile, could make his day, having her next to him, breathing in her scent, listening to her voice… Those things reminded him ever so fervently that he was a man, a man with strong desires for her. Desires he has long denied himself, and would only allow to take hold of him when he was alone, in private, where no one could interrupt them, or him.

He settled on his old leather couch. Leaning back, he closed his eyes and sighed. Sara. Just that name was enough to send his heart racing.

He still vividly remembers the day they met. He had never believed in love at first sight, had never thought it possible, because there is no scientific explanation for it, until that day… It was-is an incurable attraction, he's certain of it.

His gaze had kept on wondering to her, constantly seeking her out. He had then thought it had been because of her enthusiasm for the subject. He had so zealously wanted to teach her everything he knew, had sought her out to ensure she understood, and that if she didn't, he'd willingly explain it to her all over again. She had looked so cute with her ponytail, her mind as sharp as they came. It still is. If anything, Sara is a brilliant criminalist. She is compassionate, hard working, tenacious and passionate…

Oh God, passionate… he cannot recount the amount of times she had over the years displayed that passionate nature of hers. That fire that burned within her. At times, it had seemed subdued. However there were times; when if she did not leave him utterly flabbergasted, she left him unmistakably aroused. Times when he so badly wanted to reach for her, to claim that passion for himself. He felt what was between them, knew her animosity at times stemmed from his insistence that he cannot allow for anything between them. But it was not just for professional reasons; his insistence was to protect himself as well.

For he doubts that he could survive her passion, it was so raw, so… Sara.

She had been the first one he thought to call when Holly was killed. His need to speak to her, to see her had been so profound. And then she had arrived, his heart had sung. She was even more beautiful than he had remembered. Her hair down, curled… how he had fought the urge to interfere with her investigation, if only to have a reason to talk to her more. And when it was over, he could not bear to let her go. Those few days had as good as sealed his fate where she was concerned. He wanted to keep her close to him, needed to. He had been over the moon when she had accepted his offer, and knowing she would from then on be a part of his day, made his promotion, and the acceptance of the responsibilities, that much easier. He held a position that was highly regarded, one she could revere… How he wanted her to be captivated by him then, he had needed her admiration of him. But with time, he knew his frailties would become evident, that she would become disenchanted with him, Grissom – the man. He knew that the attraction between them would wane, that they would settle into being friends… For she was too beguilingly beautiful to remain enchanted with him for long.

However, even after nearly five years of working together, he still found it difficult to master the way his heart would beat just that little bit faster on hearing her voice. The way his hands became clammy if she stood next to him. How his heart kept on aching for her, and his body stirred at her scent. Even after all this time… he still wanted her. Still faced her passion and wished he could bask in it.

"Do you want to sleep with me?" God how those words have haunted him over the years. No Sara, I don't want to sleep with you. The things I want to do to you don't involve sleep. Because if I ever got you in a bed, alone, there would be no telling what I wouldn't be willing to do to have you moan my name, to hear you express your pleasure. To feel you around me, as I make love to you. Oh God I get aroused just by thinking of it, visualizing it. You under me, whilst I pin you to place. I want to make you gasp for air. Allow for the sensations created between us to overwhelm you. To have you loose all sense of self, and hand yourself over to me. To let me pleasure you like I do in my dreams. There where I never seem to be able to get enough of you. Where I can do things to you that would probably send you running for the hills, if you were ever to find out. I hear your grunts, lower than those little ones you make when you're frustrated. I hear you moan my name asking me to love you more, to take you there. Oh God how I wish I could do that…

But I can't, I'll loose my mind if you got bored of me, if you left me for another. I would kill him. As it is, I already want to strangle any man to whom you even show the slightest interest in… and Greg, he could be glad he works for the lab, and that you are his mentor. Because any man being remotely as familiar with you, as he and Nick are, causes my blood to boil, and my heart to cry.

The proposition is so, so tempting. The life I could have with you, so dreamlike. I want it, yearn for it, but I'm scarred of it. Because I know I would never cope with loosing you, that would break me. Even just the thought pains me.

That first time you touched, really touched and showed your concern for me, Grissom, not your supervisor or co-worker, but as someone you truly cared for… it was then that I knew I would never get over you. That simple touch, the meaning behind it, it was so gentle yet so purposeful. It rekindled a need in me, a need that up until then I thought I could control, had controlled. I want you, but I can't have you. I also cannot tolerate the thought of another man having you. I'm selfish like that. So inherently selfish when it comes to you…

Grissom rose from the couch, releasing a dejected sigh. He made his way to the bathroom, turning on the water in the shower before stripping off his clothes and stepping into it. He allowed the water to sluice over him, whilst his forehead rested against the cold tiles. Your passion would burn up this old body, you just have too much, you're too daring. I could never hold onto you, fulfil you. And the sooner I accept that, and let you go, the better it would be for both of us.

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