Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I just like to borrow them occassionally.

A/N: Fair warning readers: the following story was written between the hours of three and four in the morning, so I have no idea whether in the harsh light of day it will seem any good. Fingers crossed, though!

He couldn't sleep. Every time he shut his eyes all he could see was her face as Adam Trent held the blade to her throat. At the time, as he stood trapped on the wrong side of that plexiglass door, he thought all her could see in her eyes was fear. Now, sitting alone in his darkened townhouse, nursing his third scotch in as many hours and replaying the events in his head over and over and over again, he was convinced that there was more. The fear was still there, but now it fought for dominance with hurt, regret and something else.

It was the something else that haunted him.

For almost as long as he could remember, he had waged an internal war with himself over the true nature of her feelings for him, convincing himself anew every time she stood a little too close or held his gaze a little too long that it was a simple school-girl crush, that it would pass, and that he couldn't risk his life, his work, his heart and his soul on something he knew to be so transient.

But that night her eyes had made a liar out of him.

Standing abruptly he flung the glass at the wall and tried desperately to draw some sort of strange comfort form the sound it made as it shattered. As each jagged shard fell to the floor, he could feel another piece of his world melt away until she was all that was left. When silence once again fell across the room, he knew what he had to do.

Fifteen minutes later, standing before her door, the adrenaline began to fade and all of the doubts and fears once vanquished began to rear their ugly heads once again. With a hand raised and poised to knock, he found himself completely unable to move. What if he was wrong? What if there was nothing there? What if everything he thought he could feel between them only existed inside his head?

As quickly as he had arrived, he moved to leave. It wasn't worth the risk, he decided. Better to keep her in his life as a friend and colleague, than risk losing her all together by revealing his true feelings and driving her away.

He hadn't taken more than two steps before her door opened.

"Grissom? What are you doing here?"

He froze. He couldn't walk back towards her, but neither could he walk away. With his back turned he spoke, his tone quiet and thick with defeat.

"Hello, Sara. I don't want to bother you. I was just leaving."

His declaration was at first met with silence. After what seemed like an eternity she finally gathered what courage she could and whispered, "Then why aren't you moving?"

His head fell briefly, before he spun around to lose himself in her eyes. One last chance, he thought. One last chance to see if it was real. Travelling firstly up her long, bare legs, and then over her lithe, waifish frame towards her face, his gaze was suddenly halted by the garish bruise beginning the form just below the right side of her jawbone.

"Oh, Sara…" he whispered, as he closed the distance between them. Raising his hand to her face, he brushed aside a stray hair before gently raising her chin. Bending down he slowly, tenderly kissed her wound, gathering her in his arms and resting his cheek against her own. "I am so sorry. I am so sorry, Sara. I'm just… God, I am so sorry."

Her eyes closed, she leaned into his touch. "You've got nothing to be sorry for. It wasn't your fault. You did all you could."

"No, Sara. You don't understand. I'm sorry about everything. From the moment I asked you to move here I have treated you terribly, pulling you in when you got too far away, and then pushing you away again when you got too close. I just always thought that… Well, it doesn't matter what I thought then." Sighing, he raised a hand from her waist to gently cup her face, his thumb drawing gently circles on her cheek. "What's done is done, Sara, but if you'll let me, I will spend every minute of every day trying to make it up to you. Do you… do you… Will you let me make it up to you, Sara?"

Her senses completely overcome by the nearness of him, it was a moment before she felt able to reply. "Why are you really here, Grissom? Is it just because of what happened at the hospital today? Because if it is… If it is you need to tell me now, because I honestly don't think that I could cope if –" Her voice strangled by the sobs now fighting their way up through her chest, she fell silent.

"Sara, I… Look, I…" Frustrated with his inability to find the words he needed, he decided to just let go and allow the words find him. "Goddamn it, Sara. I love you. I am in love with you. And I have been for a long time. Today at the hospital, when I thought that I might really lose you… I'm not here today, only to be gone tomorrow. I'm done trying to hide from this, from my feelings for you. I just don't have the strength anymore. I'm here right now to find out if I really am too late, or if you might still be willing to try and make a life with me. A real life. A forever kind of life… So am I?"

"Are you what?" She asked, pulling back to search his deep blue eyes for any hint of doubt.

"Too late."

Finding nothing in his eyes but pure, unadulterated love and acceptance, she answered him by slowly closing the gap between them and grazing his lips gently with her own.

FIN.