Author’s Note:

The characters of CSI were created by A. Zuiker, and are the property of CBS and its affiliates.  All other characters depicted in this story are fictional; they are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author.  Although the locales in this story are real, all events, incidents and characters are pure invention.  
© June 2004. LSI.

A Moment of Clarity

Something shifted; sand, fine and sparkling under the beam of her flashlight fell in a thin trickle from the ceiling near the mouth of the abandoned gold mine.

Sara flicked her light over the rocky surface of the shaft and then redirected it to the walls and ceiling of the chamber she occupied.  After a moment she shook her head, silently chiding herself for her paranoia as she crouched over the pile of rubble to resume her search. 

Minutes later, another sound, more like a grating noise, made her pause.  A persistent flood of sand swooshed down into the shaft.  

Her heart jumped.  

“Grissom?” she shouted.  Her voice resounded off the walls of the narrow tunnel connecting this chamber to the next, deeper into the mine.

“What is it?” he asked as he rushed through the opening.

“Shhh…do you hear that?”

Cocking his head, he listened for a moment, and then looked at her through the semi-darkness.  His expression went from curiosity to the onset of fear when a low rumble stirred the air around them.  “We have to get out of here.  Now!”  

They raced through the debris to the opening, but had only taken a few steps into the main shaft when the low rumble turned into a roar, shaking the ground under their feet. 

“Get back,” Grissom yelled, pushing her unceremoniously back into the cave.  He shoved her to the floor and threw himself down on top of her, knocking the breath from her lungs.

But breathing was the least of her concern as rocks came crashing down into the shaft, trapping them inside the dark, derelict mine.   

7:45 a.m.

The silence was as deafening as the roar of falling rocks had been.  For a full minute it had sounded like a train was coming through the mine.  Now darkness, broken only by a small beam of light shining hopeful through a gap at the top of the boulders that trapped them inside, enveloped them.  And the dust began to settle.

Grissom climbed up on the smaller rocks that had spilled into the chamber and peered through the opening with his flashlight.  When he climbed down, his expression was grim.  “The entire shaft’s caved in.” 

Sara picked up her own flashlight and aimed it at him.  “Does anyone know we’re here?” Her voice was surprisingly steady given the sickening wave of dread welling up from her belly.

“No.”

They simultaneously reached for their cell phones, but the absence of a signal didn’t surprise them. 

“Great,” Sara said.  “How are we going to get out of here?”

“Well…we’ll be missed eventually.  They’ll come looking for us.”  His voice was reassuringly cool, smoothing out her frayed nerves.

“That could take a while.  We’re not likely to be missed until beginning of shift tonight.”  She looked at him.  “Unless your social calendar’s busier than mine and someone else misses you today.”  It was a miserable attempt at humor, or sarcasm, she wasn’t sure which.  Either way, it came out flat.

He smiled faintly, started to glance away, then his attention and his light focused on her face like a laser beam.

She squinted in the direct light.  “Do you mind?”

“I thought you said you weren’t hurt?”  He advanced on her swiftly, his gaze fixed on her cheek. 

Her hand went up automatically and her cheek burned where it touched.  She flinched.  “It’s nothing, probably just scraped it when I hit the ground.” 

He cupped her jaw in his left hand and turned her face to his probing gaze.  He winced.  It was just a scrape, but a bad one.  Remorse set in as he realized that in his panicked attempt to protect her, he’d been excessively rough and caused her needless injury.

“This is my fault.  I’m sorry.”

Sara shrugged off his apology.  “You were trying to protect me.  It was very gallant of you.”

“Gallant?”

“Well, yeah.  Chivalrous, you know.”  Her eyes teased, and her voice took on a breathy quality as she added, “You’re my hero.” 

He didn’t want to respond to her, but he couldn’t stop his lips from twitching as he dragged his gaze back to her cheek.  “There’s sand and God knows what else in the abrasion.  Do you have one of those bottles of water you always carry with you?”

She nodded.  “In my kit.”

He found her kit easily with his flashlight, and was relieved that the large bottle of water was almost full.  He didn’t know how long it would be before they were rescued, but he was guessing at least twenty-four hours, maybe longer depending on how much time it would take to dig them out.  Water would be a welcome commodity under the circumstances.

He took out a handful of swabs, closed the case, and motioned for her to sit on it.  Then he crouched in front of her.  “Hold the light for me, will you?”

He moved his hand up her good cheek, hooked his thumb around her chin, and tipped her face to the side.  He wet a swab and began removing particles of sand from the scratches with slow, careful strokes.

“Okay?” 

“Yes,” she answered softly.  “You’re very…gentle.”

His gaze slid to hers; her eyes were soft, tender—and focused…on him.  He searched them for a long, long moment before dragging his eyes back to her cheek.

“I hurt you once.  I don’t intend to do it again.”

“Once?”  Her tone was teasing.  But his expression must have betrayed his grief because she quickly added, “Gris, hurting me when you’re trying to protect me from more serious injury doesn’t count you know.”

“Good.  Then we’re even.”  He let her confusion register before he dipped a clean swab into the capful of water and brought it to her cheek.  “Hold still.”

He knew, of course, that she’d been referring to his callous refusal to her dinner invitation.  He’d beaten himself up about that often enough.  Not because he regretted his decision—it was the right thing, the only thing, to do at the time—but  her invitation had startled him and he'd responded reflexively.  He’d never meant to hurt her, as he was fairly certain she hadn’t meant to hurt him when she took up with that paramedic. 

He doubted she even knew how devastating it had been to learn that she was romantically involved with someone else.  His reaction had been colossally unexpected, especially since they weren’t involved, and it added to the confusion and the grief of the moment.  It took some time to make sense of it.

In the end, he reasoned he’d been foolishly possessive of her.

But all that was in the past.  It was over, had been over for them before it even began.  And, it was for the best.

Now, if he could only stop feeling. 

Touching her, being this close to her—so close that her warm breath fanned his cheek, wasn’t helping.  Reluctantly, his gaze slid over her face again.  Her eyes were closed, and her full lips were parted just a little.  He wondered if they would feel as soft as they looked, or taste as sweet as he imagined—

His stomach clenched and he stood abruptly.  “Done,” he said huskily.  His legs felt like tired, old rags, and he stretched them as he tossed the soiled swabs to the heap of trash in the center of the chamber.    

“Thanks.”  Sara gave him back his flashlight and picked up her own off the floor.  She went down on her knees next to the pile of debris.

Grissom watched her curiously.  “What are you doing?”

“Well…since we’re here, trapped, probably for hours, if not days, might as well finish the job we came here to do.  Someone died right here, Gris.  I want to know who did it…and why.”

He shook his head in wonder.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said hastily, then shrugged.  “Just…you never cease to amaze me.”

10:00 a.m.

“What are you doing?”

Keeping my mind and my hands occupied.  That’s primarily why he was ripping the remaining wooden planks from the old scaffolding hanging near collapse in the corner of the chamber.  To Sara, he said, “I figure wood will be softer to sit on than this floor.”  And sleep on, he added to himself.

“Good point,” she said, rising from the rocky floor and slapping her behind back to life.  She began clearing an area near the back wall of the cave.

11:15 a.m.

“I’m bored.”

“Every hero becomes a bore at last,” Grissom said, sighing in mock defeat.

Sara smiled.  “Emerson.”

He looked at her.  “Very good, Miss Sidle.”

She heard a hint of surprise in his voice and it pricked at her pride.  She couldn’t profess to be as well-read as Grissom, but she hadn’t spent her life buried under a rock either.  The thought, under the circumstances, almost made her laugh.  “Why so surprised?” she asked haughtily.  “I’ll see you your Shakespeare and raise you an Emerson any day.”

The corners of his mouth curled a little, as if he were repressing a smile.  “And how is it you know so much about Emerson?”

“I went to Harvard, remember?  He is a bit of a legend there.”

“Ahh…true.”

They were sitting on their newly-constructed wooden platform, which was easier on the behind than the floor of the mine had been.  The wall they were leaning against was something else however.  Sara brought her knees up and, leaning forward, crossed her forearms over them.  Very bad for her posture, but it beat the sharp edges of the wall jabbing at her back. 

“You know…Emerson’s been described as aloof, conflicted and withdrawn,” she told him.  “I’m surprised he’s not your hero.”

“Are you trying to tell me something, Sara?”

She shrugged.  

Gil sensed the frustration in her, and he released a good dose of his own in a long breath. 

She hopped to her feet.  His eyes followed her as she moved restlessly around the cave, flicking her light over the walls, the ceiling, the pile of debris that hadn’t yielded anything of value to their case, and then finally over the massive wall of boulders that prevented her escape. 

She kicked it.

“That won’t help, Sara.”

“Don’t I know it?” she drawled sarcastically.

Oddly, he felt a painful twist in his gut at the thought that she couldn’t stand to be alone with him even for a few hours.  “Is it this place you want to escape from most, or is it me?”

She spun around and looked at him.  After a moment, she reclaimed her seat next to him.  “It’s not personal.  I’m just not used to being idle, that’s all.  You wouldn’t have a deck of cards in your kit by any chance?”

“No.  And even if I did, it’s a little too dark to play cards.” 

“Hmm...”  She pulled her legs up, crossed her arms over her knees, and rested her good cheek on them, facing away from him. 

There was something sad in her posture, Gil noticed, something he suddenly wished he could take away.  His fingers itched to touch her; his arms longed to wrap around her and draw her close to him, but instinctively, he knew that if he let himself get close to her, he wouldn’t be able to stop.  It was the thought of afterward that disturbed him, frightened him into inactivity.

“Are you going to sleep?” he asked, because the silence was too uncomfortable, even for him.

“No.  Not tired, just bored,” she murmured.

“Well, we could…talk, if that’s what you want.”

She laughed; a harsh, sarcastic laugh he felt like a sword through his chest.  “You don’t talk, Grissom.”

He couldn’t deny the truth in her blunt statement.  He’d always avoided talking to her about anything that wasn’t directly or indirectly related to their work.  He’d done a good job of keeping their relationship strictly professional, ever since— 

Peddigrew.

He shook his head.  He couldn’t even blame it on that.  He’d always been careful around her, not allowing himself to get too close, but despite his best efforts, she still managed to touch him...hurt him.

It was hopeless.  He was hopeless.  He wondered, not for the first time, at the sense of maintaining a wall of indifference between them when she so easily broke through it with a simple look, or a word.  A smile.

He leaned his head back against the cold, hard surface of the wall, and stared at her.  The light sneaking through the gap at the top of the boulders reflected off the wall above her and washed down over her still form, lighting her like a priceless work of art.  It seemed to say, ‘Pay attention, I’m something special.'

If Gil were a less sensible man, he might have allowed himself to see it as a sign.  Still, the effect was phenomenal, and oddly enlightening.  The cocoon of light surrounding her was like a protective shield that freed him to see her without his many shades of fear. 

It was a strange moment of clarity, made stranger still by the fact that it was occurring while they were trapped in near total darkness.  But perhaps it was the dark that gave night its healing powers.

Gil took stock, and eventually the grim account of his life transpired.  No one could predict the future, but in this brief moment stripped of ambiguity, he knew for certain that true happiness would never exist without her. 

12:15 p.m.

“We should try to get some sleep,” Grissom suggested when he saw her yawn.

Sara agreed and excused herself to visit the adjoining cave, the one they’d designated as private quarters to answer nature’s call. 

While Grissom took his turn, she tried to make herself comfortable on the narrow platform, but the pungent smell of dirt and decaying wood was nauseating.  Lack of food, inactivity and her battered emotions also made the cave feel colder, adding to her discomfort.  She propped her head up on her arm and huddled into herself, wrapping her arm around her middle in a feeble attempt to keep warm.

That’s how Gil found her when he returned from his jaunt.  She was stretched out, facing the wall, looking uncomfortable, stiff, dainty—despite her tall frame—and cold.  Tenderness surged inside him, and he felt an overwhelming need to comfort her. 

He swapped the batteries in his flashlight for fresh ones and set it on the floor near the crude bed.  Then, with a resigned sigh, he lowered himself to the platform and stretched out behind her.

“Are you okay?”

She grunted.  “I wish I had a blanket…and a pillow.”

“You have me,” he offered tentatively.

Oh what a loaded, multi-layered pile of crap, Sara thought.  “I don’t have you, Grissom.  I will never—“ damn that hiccup, “have you.”

“You have me now, and if nothing else, I think I’d make an adequate pillow.”

“Yeah…an inanimate object.”

“That’s cruel,” he said, but he was smiling.  She was cranky, which was understandable under the circumstances, but at her worst Sara was still the most lovable woman he’d ever met.

She turned and gave him a heart-stopping smile.  “Kidding,” she said, and then prodded his chest with a strong index finger.  “Cushiony, yet…firm,” she said.  “I do believe…the best of both worlds.”

“Oh?”

Her hand flattened on his chest, then explored it gently.  She was so focused on what she was doing that he didn’t think she was aware of what she was doing—to him.  He felt the throb of his response to that first intimate touch from her.  His chest rose and fell under her hand.  And then, she lifted her eyes, and he caught his breath.  They were darker than he’d ever seen them, burning with confusion, and something else, so intense, and hot with feeling, he ached with an inner longing. 

“Do you know how incredibly beautiful you are?” he asked, the words out of his mouth before he could censor them.

She blinked slowly and when she looked at him again, her eyes were full of wonder.  “Am I dreaming?” 

The breathless quality of her voice thrilled him.  He grinned and shook his head.  “No.”

She settled on her back and stared at the ceiling.  After a long moment, she turned her head and looked at him.  Her smile was so sweet, he found himself catching his breath again.  A man could forget his own name when Sara Sidle smiled like that.  Indeed, a man could forget anything else existed.  And he was very much a man.

“When you decide to speak, you can be…very charming,” she said.   

He propped his head up in his hand and shrugged.  “It’s the truth.  Men have tried, Sara, whether in song or sonnet, to describe the beauty of a woman and how it affects them.  I have yet to come across any words that do you justice.”

His words stunned her into silence.  Sara watched, mesmerized, as he moved his hand under her hair at her nape, caught the back of her neck, and slowly drew her to him.  She felt her brow crinkle in confusion, felt the pulse at her temple, felt the heat rise in her skin, and as his face drew nearer, her mouth went dry. 

Her heart ran wild when she realized he was going to kiss her.

His gaze slid to her parted lips and up to her eyes before he slowly closed the short distance between their mouths.  She heard his sharp intake of breath, and he pulled back abruptly, as if the touch of her lips had seared his.  Her eyes fluttered open, and met his dark, bewildered gaze. 

“Gris,” she whispered helplessly.

His hand fisted into her hair and his mouth found hers again, insistent and demanding now.  He slanted his head and increased the pressure of his mouth, forcing her lips to part, and she moaned when his tongue pushed past them and touched hers.

Gil felt her gasp even as he heard it, and it fueled his passion.  He’d always suspected it would be explosive between them, but never had a kiss tested his control so immediately and completely.  Lust coiled and tightened in his gut, and when her hand glided up his chest and clutched the side of his neck, he drew the length of her body to his. 

She came alive in his arms, wildly responding to his kiss.  His hand, trembling with need, slipped under her sweater, smoothed the soft skin of her back, but it only made him want more.  Deliberately, he grasped her hip and pulled her tighter, welding her against him, letting her feel the force of his desire for her.  She moaned and moved against him, the pressure of her pelvis against him exquisite torture.  Gil growled low in his throat, and broke the kiss before he lost all control.

Her body sagged against his and she buried her face in his neck.  He closed his eyes tightly, struggling to bring his breathing and his heartbeat under control.  When he felt her lips nipping at the sensitive skin of his neck, he shuddered and nudged her gently.  “Sara, don’t.  If we don’t stop now…”  He let his voice trail off, but his meaning was clear. 

He rolled onto his back, and Sara laid her head on his shoulder, her chest heaving in time with his own, and her heart slamming at her ribs.  He’d just given her a brief taste of him, and her body ached for more; in fact she couldn’t remember a kiss arousing her quite this powerfully.  Her nipples were straining so hard against the soft confines of her bra, it was painful.  She was drenched, and the empty ache between her legs demanded to be filled.  Grissom had made her as aware of his arousal as she was of her own, and her body hungered for the sizeable erection he’d pressed against her. 

“Gris…I don’t want to stop.”

She saw his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed and she wanted to press her lips to it.

“We must…for now,” he said gruffly.

“Why?” she asked softly, propping herself up to look at him.

“Because I am conflicted,” he rasped out, the harshness of his tone betraying his emotional struggle.  Regret immediately entered his eyes.  He sighed.  “Sara, please understand.  I have some issues to work through before I can…take this further.”

Something snapped inside of her and burst into anger so harsh and violent, she needed to get away from him.  She scrambled to her feet, and put as much distance between them as the cave allowed.  But when she spoke, her voice was utterly calm and unemotional.   

“How long?” she asked.

“How long?”

She faced him. “How long before you figure this out?  Tell me.  How long do you want me to wait, Grissom?  Another year, two…what?”

He didn’t answer.

“Right, I almost forgot,” she continued, wishing she didn’t sound so snappish all of a sudden.  “You can’t risk everything you’ve worked for, for me.  I got that message, loud and clear.  I’ve accepted it.”  She lifted her arms and let them fall in frustration.  “So why the seduction?  Do you get some sort of perverse pleasure out of hurting me?”

She saw him flinch.  Even through the darkness, she recognized his reaction to her verbal slap.  His mouth dropped open, and then closed, and his eyes fell in stunned silence.

“I heard what you said to Lurie.  I was in the observation room.”  His head snapped up.  Sara smiled faintly as sorrow poured out of her heart into her voice.  “I got it, Grissom.  I didn’t need this little experiment to tell me we have chemistry.  I know how you feel.”

“Do you?" he asked forcefully.  "Come here, Sara.” 

She was so surprised by his commanding tone that it didn’t occur to her to disobey.  She sat on the edge of the platform and waited for him to speak.

He regarded her pensively.  “It’s true.  We have chemistry.  It’s…explosive between us.  I’ve never felt it quite like this.  And it’s exciting and frightening at the same time.”  He paused, and dropped his chin, exhaling softly.  “I’ve been fighting it for a long time.”

She saw a shadow of regret cross his face, and heard it in his voice.  It felt like an apology.  And it softened her.

She pursed her lips.  “I noticed,” she teased.  It wasn’t a criticism.

He shot her an amused glance, and the tension quickly dissipated, releasing into a gentle, soothing calm. 

It was partly why she didn’t resist when he reached for her and drew her down next to him.  That, and the fact that she was powerless to resist him.  He closed his arms around her and she settled against his chest.

“Why does it frighten you, Gris?”

“Because it is so powerful and so tempting, but it’s not enough.  It’s only one ingredient to a successful relationship…you know that.”

“Sure, but it’s a start,” she argued.  “The other ingredients, trust, commitment…love, they can grow from it in time, don’t you think?”

“And sometimes they don’t.  You’re young, Sara.  You have the luxury of time.  ‘Let’s get together and see what happens,’ doesn’t sound the same to me as it does to you.  And, we have our professional relationship to consider.  It’s very risky.”

“You said you couldn’t risk everything you’d worked for to have me.”

His lips moved into her hair, and he breathed deeply.  “You knew I was thinking about you when I said those things to Lurie?”

“Yes.”

“Why were you there?”

“I don’t know, I—“ Sara frowned.  She’d never really thought of the why; when she heard they had brought Lurie in for questioning, she went without analyzing her motives.  She wondered about it now.  “Curiosity, I guess,” she said hesitantly.  “After I saw Debbie, I understood some things and wondered about others.”

“Such as?”

“Well…why you didn’t want me in the house, for one.  I, uh, never thanked you for that.”  She snuggled closer and toyed with a button on his shirt.

“Anything else?” he asked wearily.

“I guess I wanted to see the man who killed her.  She looked so much like me, Grissom.  It was—” she shuddered. 

His arms tightened around her.  “I know.  I still think about it sometimes.  As much as I wanted to nail the bastard—“ He eased her back and looked at her face.  “Sara, there’s something you should know about that.”  He inhaled deeply, and glanced away for a moment, as if ashamed to look at her.  But then, he lifted his eyes courageously.  “I, uh, understood him—his rage—and there were times when I empathized with him.”

“What?”

“It doesn’t make me proud,” he said quickly.  “But when I saw Debbie...God, Sara, it was a shock.  On some level I knew it wasn’t you, but my mind kept playing tricks on me.  Every time I looked at her, or saw a picture of her, I kept seeing you.  As hard as I tried not to, I was projecting the situation on us…I felt his rage.  I identified with him, and it was a scary place to be.”

“I…I’m not sure I understand.”

“How do you think I’d feel if we were involved and you casually cast me aside the minute some other guy came along?”

“Uh…”  Sara shook her head, frowning, trying to make sense of what he was saying.  “I know you wouldn’t slit my throat.”

His lips curled up in a half smile and he brought her head down to his shoulder.  “You’re right.  I could never lose control like that.  But I imagine, in every other way, I’d feel very much what Lurie felt.  There are other ways to hurt the woman you love when you’re blinded by pain.”

His words went straight to her heart.  She knew he cared about her; it was obvious he was attracted to her on a very basic level, but could he be alluding to a deeper emotion?  Or was he speaking in generalities?  She lifted her head and looked at him.  She didn’t have the energy to second-guess him anymore.

Gathering up her courage, she placed a hand on his jean-clad thigh and felt his muscles bunch beneath it, this immediate reaction to her touch giving her the last little nudge she needed.

“Do you love me, Grissom?”

She felt him stiffen; heard his breath choke out of him in a wheeze; saw his eyes narrow on her face and his lips twitch before he glanced awkwardly away.  Silence stretched uncomfortably between them, and then dread, such as she’d never known, welled up inside her.

Her courage left her.  She slowly removed her hand from his leg and disentangled herself from him.  “Never mind,” she said as she started getting up.  “I—“

“Yes.”

Her heart stopped, and her head spun around as she looked for confirmation that she’d heard correctly, but she couldn’t read him.  She sank slowly back to the ground.  “You…you love me?”

“I do,” he snarled, and Sara wondered which annoyed him most:  that he did, or that he’d admitted it.

His joyless expression was sobering.

Still, she smiled.  “You could try sounding more pleased about it.”

He sent her a wry look.  “I’m not,” he said bluntly.

She didn’t even think he realized how hurtful his words were.  Her throat constricted painfully and she averted her eyes.  She’d dreamed of this moment for so long, it should have made her deliriously happy.  Instead, a lead weight settled in the pit of her stomach.  Nothing had changed.  The only difference between now and an hour ago was that he’d admitted to having feelings for her.  But that didn’t really come as a surprise.  She’d suspected it for a while, had been almost certain of it after witnessing his interrogation of Lurie.  The only thing unexpected about it was his admitting it; give with one breath, take away with the other.  He was still making it clear that he didn’t intend to do anything about them.

Nothing had changed.

“Fine, then don’t.”  The harsh tone in her voice should have shocked her, but it didn’t.  She curled up on the platform, her back turned rigidly away from him.

“Sara—“

“Let’s get some sleep, Grissom,” she said wearily.  She was tired of fighting this losing battle.

1:45 p.m.

Gil woke with a start and checked his watch.  He was surprised that he’d been under for a solid hour.  Under the circumstances, he hadn’t expected to sleep at all.  Sara, he noticed in the faint light of his flashlight, hadn’t moved a hair.  But even in her sleep she was fighting off the cool dampness of the cave.

He wanted to wrap her in his arms and share his body heat with her, but he doubted she would welcome the move.  He was well aware that he’d deliberately set out to seduce her earlier.  He couldn’t blame it on circumstances or opportunity…he couldn’t even call it impulse or curiosity.  He wanted her, and for a moment, nothing else had mattered.

He couldn’t deny the temptation any longer, and for once, he didn’t think, just took, until her response—and his—crashed through his brain and brought him to his senses.

But now, he needed to think.  He couldn’t continue leading her on, keeping her in his sights until he figured out how much of his well-ordered, predictable life he was willing to give up for her.  Yet, at the same time, the thought of never having her was unbearable.

God, just remembering how she’d felt, her body pressed against his, her mouth welcoming, the softness of her skin under his probing hand, was making him hard again, and somewhere inside of him, he knew it wasn’t about choice anymore.

He needed her, in every way a man could need a woman, and that was that.

He inched closer to her, and put a hesitant hand on her arm.  “Sara,” he whispered, but she didn’t stir.  He moved closer still and drew her firmly against him, opening his jacket to wrap her snuggly inside it.  She moaned, and moved against him, welcoming his heat even as she slept.

3:00 p.m.

Sara awoke from a deep sleep to the wonderful sensation of being snuggled in the warm curve of Grissom’s body.  Sometime, while she slept, he had draped his jacket over her and wrapped her protectively in his arms, shielding her from the damp cold and offering his right arm as a pillow.

Her eyes fluttered open to the familiar dimness of the cave.  She listened to the rhythm of his breathing wondering if he was asleep, and then decided he must be when he moved his hand under her top, flattened it over her bare abdomen and pressed her backward, boldly settling his massive erection against her buttocks.  Sara felt a responding ache deep in her loins, and had to bite her lip not to moan aloud. 

God he felt good.

She knew she should disentangle herself from him, wake him up, but she couldn’t.  Hoping to prolong this blissful moment, she closed her eyes and tried to steady her erratic heartbeat, to control her breathing and make her body go limp as it had been in sleep.  But she was coiled so tightly with arousal she had to fight the urge to thrust her bottom up and grind it against him. 

Then his hand moved, slowly up, and she inhaled sharply as he teased the underside of one breast with his thumb.

“Sleep well?” he asked, his voice deep and soft, a mere whisper against her ear that sent a gentle tingle up her spine.

“Mmm,” she murmured.  For a moment, she wondered why he wasn’t moving away, and then realized that his voice had held none of the drowsy quality of someone just waking up.  He’d been awake all along, had known that she was as well or he wouldn’t have touched her—

“Warm enough?”

“Yes, very—“ she started in response, and then gasped when his hand smoothed down over her belly to the waistband of her jeans and he slipped the tip of his fingers inside.  She went very still.  “Gris…”

He brushed his mouth over her cheekbone to her temple, and then brought his lips to her ear.  “Do you want me to stop?”

Sara swallowed hard.  Her heart was beating at such an insane pace it was a wonder she could still breathe.  “Don’t…don’t start something you have no intention of finishing,” she managed to choke out.

“Okay,” he whispered, and surprised her again when he unbuttoned her jeans and slowly lowered her zipper.  A quick, sharp sigh of pleasure erupted from her throat when he slipped his hand inside her underwear and started gently stroking her with experimental fingers, seeking and finding her most sensitive spot, circling her, and applying pressure and releasing it in a deliberate rhythm that was slowly driving her mad.  “You like that, don’t you?”

“Mmmm…don’t…stop,” she replied weakly, her breath coming in short gasps now as a whirlpool of heat erupted in her loins.  She lifted her arm over his and gripped his thigh, digging her fingers into it through the rough fabric of his jeans, and tugging him impatiently forward as she thrust her hips back and shamelessly ground them into him.

“I won’t, ah…Sara,” he groaned, his own breathing coming quicker and harsher now.  He slid her pants down over her hips with an urgent hand, and slipped a long finger inside of her in time with a strong, upward thrust of his pelvis on her bare buttocks.  “This is not how I’d envisioned our first time,” he growled.

Had she been capable of thought, Sara would have reveled in the fact that he’d fantasized about making love to her, but her brain was single-mindedly focused on the pressing need of her body to be fulfilled.  And in that single-mindedness, she pleaded once again for him not to stop.

Grissom chuckled softly.  “I won’t, sweetheart.”

She moved against his hand, barely aware of her whimpers as the sensations he created with his fingers and the suggestive thrust of his hips ignited a desire in her so hot and urgent she thought she would go insane if he didn’t fill her soon.

Her head was still nestled in the circle of his right arm, but he shifted a little and slipped his hand under her jacket to cup a breast.  He rasped his thumb over a sensitive nipple and Sara bucked, her body twisting restlessly against his bigger, harder frame which still cocooned her, holding her in his heat.  It was almost too much, his hand on her breast, the other between her thighs, his rigid shaft pushing against her in time with the thrust of his finger, his ragged breaths mixing with her own fast ones in the hollow silence of the cave.  It was intense pleasure and torture all at once.  And then he swept her hair back from her neck with his chin and opened his mouth to the sensitive flesh just above her collarbone.  He sucked and tasted her gently before he closed his lips over her skin and trailed ardent kisses up her throat to her jaw.

Love mixed with lust in a heady cocktail of sensations that left her slightly dizzy.  “Gris—“ she gasped, “Gris…I need—“

“What do you need, Sara?” he asked in a rough whisper.

“You.”

He let out a quick, ragged breath and his hand left her mound to free his throbbing flesh from his pants.  She heard the quick rasp of his zipper, felt him shift behind her as he lowered his pants over his hips, and she quickly pushed at her boots with her feet, knocking them off, and then thrashed her legs to divest them of her jeans, baring herself to him from the waist down.

Their movements were hurried, and in no time the thick head of his shaft was stretching her opening from behind—not the best position for deep penetration, but Sara was too aroused and greedy to care.  She moved against him recklessly, the need to soothe the ache between her legs too urgent to worry about romance, or dignity, or what the rough planks of the platform were doing to her skin.

He cursed when he fell out of her under her frantic thrashing, and in one swift movement, he shuffled to his knees, shrugged off of his jacket and spread it haphazardly onto the planks.  He then lifted her up in his lap, gripped her hips, and impaled himself into her moist center to the hilt.

Sara inhaled sharply as the sheer size of him stretched her inner muscles to their limit.

“Are you okay?”

She opened her eyes and looked at him.  “Oh, yeah,” she answered, offering him a sweet smile of satisfaction.

His lips twitched and he covered her mouth with his, and kissed her hard, and deep, pouring his passion into her mouth as he wrapped his arm around her and lowered her to the silky lining of his jacket.  He braced himself over her and thrust deeply into her tight, welcoming, wet body, each long stroke of his shaft colliding with her womb.  Sara clung to him, her every sense and nerve ending aware of him, his scent, the sound of every harsh breath he took, the feel of his skin against her own, the glint of passion in his eyes as he looked at her, and then, he dipped his head and invaded her mouth with his tongue, and suddenly it was too much; she cried out as the intense build-up of passion and desire erupted in a hot flood of sensations.  Her inner muscles contracted and gripped him as her climax consumed her body and mind and heart, and sent a sting of tears to her eyes.

“Sweetheart—“ Grissom started, but then she heard his breath catch and he uttered a deep guttural sound as he found his own release and his powerful, damp body shook violently against her.

Afterwards, he held her and kissed her tenderly, and then deeply, as if their passion had not just been spent.  And then, he rested his forehead against hers.  “God, Sara—“  He cut himself off and shook his head.

“Please don’t say this was a mistake,” she pleaded.

He looked at her sharply and his heart ached when he saw the brightness of tears in her eyes.  “Honey, no; never,” he said in a rush, and then his lips curved into a smile as he took his weight off her and pulled up his pants.  “In fact, I wish there were someone I could thank for trapping us here.”

“You’re not conflicted anymore, Grissom?”

“I will be if you don’t start calling me Gil.”

She smiled; that special smile of hers he’d often imagined she reserved for him.  After all these years, it still managed to take his breath away.  He watched her as she scrambled to her feet, gathered her clothes and shook the dust from them.  He admired her partial nudity, feasted his gaze on her long, shapely legs and her cute, firm behind, and was shocked to feel the stirrings of arousal again.

She dressed quickly and picked up his jacket from the floor.  She examined the interior lining before returning it to him.  “I hope you have a discreet dry-cleaner,” she teased.

He sent her a wry glance and picked up his flashlight to look at it closely.  He grinned.  “A souvenir.”

“A semen stain?” she stated incredulously.

He shrugged as she sat back against the wall next to him.  He cocked his head, leaning in towards her.  “From our first time.”

Sara looked at him pensively.  Gil knew she was a little confused by the turn of events, and there were still a great many things that had not been said, but he didn’t quite know where to begin.  All this was new to him, as it was to her, and though he was no longer in the dark about what he wanted, he wondered if Sara still knew what she wanted.

He stood and went to her kit for the bottle of water.  He offered it to her first, and she sipped at it and gave it back to him.  Gil took a long swallow and slowly screwed the cap back on.  

He cleared his throat and looked at her.  “Time to get serious?” he asked softly.

She nodded.  “What—what happened to, ‘I’m conflicted and need time to work things out?’”

“I worked them out.”  He took her hand and concentrated on her long, lean fingers as he gathered his thoughts.  “Sara…the conflicts are still there, but you know, in the end, they don’t amount to a hill of beans.”  She lifted a quizzical brow and he continued.  “I can’t stop wanting you, and I’m just making myself miserable trying.”  He let out a long sigh.  “I’ve never needed anyone, but then you came along, so lovely, so sweet—“ he threw her a quick smile, “an admirable intellect in a desirable body—you made me feel things I’d never felt before, things I didn’t want to feel.  It took me a while to figure out that the heart is stronger than the will.”

Her dark gaze bore into his, bright and startled.  It seemed suspended between doubt and guarded optimism, and he realized that she was afraid to believe him.  And he very much needed her to believe him; they’d gone much too far now for him to ever be able to turn back.  Still he couldn’t blame her for being cautious.  He hadn’t given her any reason to think she could trust him with her heart.  Sara had never once told him that she loved him, but he knew she did because nothing less than a great love could be that patient, and, he hoped, equally enduring.

He reached for her and gathered her in his arms, absently wondering how someone so tall could feel so dainty.  “I’m in love with you, Sara,” he whispered in a hoarse voice.  “I need you, and that’s not going to change.”

He heard her soft intake of breath, and hooked a thumb under her chin.  Lifting her face to his, he kissed her deeply, putting his heart and soul into it because she didn’t deserve anything less.  “Do you believe me?” he asked when he ended the kiss.

“I—I want to,” she stated simply.

“Well, that’s a start.”

For a long time they sat there, quietly huddled together, but eventually her feistiness returned, as he knew it would.  Gil smiled when she grunted into the front of his shirt.

“What?” he asked.

“I’m hungry,” she moaned like a petulant child, and he laughed.

10:35 p.m.

After hours of trying to reach him to no avail, Catherine had been worried enough to start a small investigation into Gil’s whereabouts.  It had led her to the abandoned gold mine where they’d found the slain body of Tyrone Slater two days ago, the only case Gil had been working on.

They'd both breathed a sigh of relief when they heard Catherine shouting his name from the mouth of the mine.  The cave had become very dark and much colder at nightfall.  They were down to one flashlight—Sara’s batteries having given out hours ago—they were out of water and very hungry.  Yet, they admitted that despite the inconvenience and discomfort of being trapped in the old mine, neither one of them would ever regret the last fifteen hours.

A crew of men and heavy machinery had been working diligently at freeing them for the past three hours, and they were very close now.  Their floodlights had lit the dim chamber, and the staccato of heavy machinery and the occasional shouts of the crew making sure they were still all right, were like a beacon on a very dark night.

With Sara’s help, Gil had already displaced some smaller rocks to give them an easier climb up over the boulders when the time came.  Now, all they could do was sit back and wait.

“What happens next, Grissom?”

He lifted an eyebrow.  “Are you asking what my intentions are, Ms. Sidle?” he replied flippantly, and then caught himself when he looked at her and realized that despite the intimacy they’d shared in the last hours, she still needed reassurance.

She returned his gaze with a steady one of her own.  “Yes,” she said unwaveringly though he sensed her apprehension as she waited for his answer.

Not that she needed to wait very long.  

Grissom knew what he wanted, had known for a very long time.  It was his fear of getting it, then losing it, that had always paralyzed him.  He reached for her hand and twined his fingers with hers.  “I want to take you home with me, get you cleaned up and fed, and once I’ve satisfied your hunger for food, take you to bed and make love to you until you’re satiated and too exhausted to move.  Then we’ll sleep until it’s time to get up for work, and I imagine we’ll keep doing all that, or some version of it for a while until—“ he cut himself off and threw her a hesitant look.

“Until?”

Her tone was full of amusement now, and as he looked at her, he got momentarily caught in her eyes, her smile.  Oh yeah, he knew what he wanted.

“Until,” he started slowly, “you're sure I can make you happy.  If you like being with me, and you think you could put up with me for the rest of my life, I'll ask you to marry me.”

Her breath caught a little, and she said, “You’ve got all that planned?”

He shrugged.  “I like order, and predictability, Sara.  That might be boring to a lot of people, but it tends to make me less nervous.”

Her lips pulled back in a sweetly, sexy smile, and for the first time since this ordeal began, he could see that she was completely relaxed, and he dared