Second Chance

Rating: R
Pairing: Grissom/Sara
Category: General/Romance
Archive: FF.net and here. Anywhere else ask first, I might say yes.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. Blah blah blah. Some really lucky, rich people do.

Author's Note: I've said it before, and I'll say it again. Man, I hate RST!!! (Don't mind reading it, HATE writing it). For the purposes of this story... well, it just had to be done, so bear with me.

Summary: A tragic misunderstanding pushes Grissom to resolve his personal feelings for Sara. This is NOT a character death story, so be sure to read the whole thing!

---

When Sara arrived at the crime scene, Brass immediately explained the situation to her. A small explosion had rocked a strip mall after hours, practically demolishing one business and damaging another. The bomb squad had cleared the scene quickly, deeming it safe for entry. Sara began processing the scene, trying to pinpoint the source of the explosion and collecting any evidence that was still present.

Half an hour later, Brass was at the other end of the strip mall interviewing business owners and witnesses when another explosion went off, much more massive than the first. Seeing more than half the building engulf in flames, he immediately called for fire response. He frantically ran down the curb, looking for Sara in the small crowd of onlookers. She was in the building. He was frozen. The fire was huge, flames shooting out of the entrances. There was nothing he could do. He stared into the building, his eyes filling with tears. When the fire department arrived, they moved him back out of the way, promising they would do all they could to find her.

Brass watched the building burn. Grissom, he had to call Grissom. He reached him on his cell phone at the lab. Brass tried to explain it calmly. The words didn't seem real as he said them. Sara. Explosion. Fire.

Grissom heard the words, but the absolute horror didn't quite register with him.

"Okay, I'll be right there."

"Gil, it's too late," Brass breathed out sorrowfully.

What did he just say? "Wha? What do you mean it's too late?" Grissom shouted, becoming angry.

"Gil, there's no way. I'm staring at it." He choked on his own tears. "She's gone... "

Grissom dropped the phone from his hand and left it on the floor. He turned to Greg, and said simply, "I have to go." Unable to give any further explanation, Grissom walked purposefully out of the building and got in his car, tossing his pager in the parking lot trashcan.

Brass called Catherine next, and she immediately left her crime scene to head to the bombing.

Still hypnotized by the fire, Brass was standing there dazed when someone touched his shoulder. "Hey," Sara said, clearly disturbed by the blast.

"HOLY SHIT!" he screamed, lunging at her and hugging her so tightly Sara believed he cracked her ribs. Sara was shaking and started to cry. "I'm not in there," she explained needlessly, as Brass rocked her side to side. He turned his back to the building, still hugging her, and Sara got a front row view of the flames. "I... I was just in there," she said weakly. The lab explosion drifted into her memory. Was she some kind of trigger for explosions these days? "I ran out of gloves," she said, the words sounding so inane. "There's a box in my car. I... I was in my car," she muttered, still staring at the now billowing fire.

Catherine pulled up to the scene minutes later, fresh tears on her cheeks. Running toward Brass, she saw Sara and immediately flung her arms around her as well. "Oh, thank God!" she squealed.

"I'm okay," Sara reassured her with an unstable voice. "Nothing like almost dying to show you who you're friends are though." She was so shaken she still had tears in her eyes. She turned to Brass and attempted to lighten the mood with humor. "You didn't tell anyone else I was dead, did you? I don't think my ribs could take it."

His eyes and mouth flew open. "Shit! Grissom!" he shouted, reaching for his cell phone and dialing frantically. Catherine and Sara exchanged worried looks for a moment.

Brass stepped away from them, obviously leaving the important message on Grissom's cell phone. "Are you okay?" Catherine asked, rubbing Sara's arms gently.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Sara lied.

"You're shaking like a leaf," Catherine commented. "That had to be a little scary, seeing your crime scene blow up in front of you."

Sara nodded slowly before answering, "A little."

"This is getting to be a bit much-you and these explosions," she said, cringing slightly knowing she had caused the first one that rocked her. "You need to go home. Please, take the night and just try to calm down, take it easy."

Sara looked at Catherine, but couldn't seem to form coherent words to protest. She shrugged one shoulder. "Maybe."

"No maybe, Sara. Get away from this for tonight. Please?"

Sara watched the flames a minute more. She really would have died. Her heart rate increased, and a huge wave of nausea washed over her. She nodded again. "Okay," she said softly, heading for her car. "I'm going home."

Catherine smiled a half smile and said, "Call me if you need anything, okay? Even if you just want to talk."

Sara got in her car and pulled away from the scene. Brass walked up to Catherine. "This isn't good. I can't find Grissom."

"What do you mean?"

"He isn't answering his cell phone, he didn't answer my page, the lab says he just took off in the middle of his shift, and he doesn't answer at home. Shit! He thinks Sara's dead for Christ's sake!"

"He's probably coming here," Catherine said, trying to assure Brass.

"I don't know," Brass said, clearly agitated. "I need to talk to him. You know he's going to go all wacky on us. It's Sara! Man, those bomb squad dipshits are going to pay for this." Brass shook his head, still watching the building.

Catherine thought for a moment. Brass had a point. They had to find him. "You stay here incase he shows up," Catherine ordered, walking away quickly to her car. "I'm going to his house. Keep trying his cell phone!"

*-*-*-*-*

"Grissom!" Catherine shouted, banging on his front door with her fist. She honestly could care less about waking any neighbors. She just hoped he was in there. "Grissom, you have to let me in. She's not dead." She exhaled forcefully, wishing she could break down the door somehow. She banged again, and began full on screaming. "Grissom! Sara is not dead! Please open this damn door!"

The door unlocked, and Grissom flung it open. Catherine relaxed her shoulders instantly, so relieved she had found him. His puffy and red face held an angry confused expression. "What did you say?" His voice was low and raspy.

"Why aren't you answering your phone or your pager?" she snapped, pushing her way into his house. "She's not dead! Brass has been trying to reach you for half an hour." Her expression fell when she noticed his kitchen table was flipped on its side, his telephone lay in pieces on the floor, papers were scattered about the room. He had apparently thrown quite a tantrum. She turned back to face Grissom. "Sara was in her car when the bomb went off. She's okay."

Grissom could not process the words. He was dreaming. Great. Hallucinating. This was not real. Catherine just stared at him.

"Did you hear me?" she asked, raising her voice slightly.

"Are... " His mouth was so dry, as if all moisture had escaped with his earlier tears. "Are you sure?"

Catherine moved closer to him, seeing the raw anguish in his face. "Yes, Gil. I saw her myself. She's pretty spooked, but she's fine. She's alive."

His shoulders jerked forward suddenly. A strange sound escaped his closed mouth, as if he was having dry heaves and about to vomit. Catherine wrinkled her face, wondering what was wrong with him. She put her hand on his forearm. "Are you okay?"

He was about to cry, violently. He reached for Catherine's arms, pulling her forcefully into a hug. "No," he uttered, squeezing her tightly. The room was spinning. Surely he was drunk. This was a dream. Was she really alive?

"Gil," Catherine said softly. "She's all right." Suddenly things made more sense to Catherine. She always knew Sara was special to him, but at times his adamant denial of romantic feelings for her could be convincing. Not anymore. She knew he frequently repressed his emotions, but this was ridiculous. Why would he torture himself like this? From her vantage point, it was obvious Sara felt the same way toward him. What were these two doing?

Catherine pulled back from him, staring at the mess of a man before her. "Listen, I don't usually interfere with your personal life, and you don't interfere with mine. But I have to speak up here." Grissom just gazed at her blankly, still not convinced Sara was alive. He would have to see for himself.

"You have to do something about this. Okay?" She touched his chin with her hand, raising his face. "Why are you doing this to yourself? And to Sara?"

His brow furrowed, but he did not defend himself.

"Why are you torturing yourself? You need to talk to her," she ordered.

Grissom walked slowly away from Catherine, standing at his kitchen counter. "It's not that easy."

"Is this easy? Look at yourself! Do you need a bigger second chance than this one? Next time it might not be a mistake, Gil. Do you think you'll get another second chance?"

"There's nothing I can do about it," he said, raising his voice slightly.

"Oh, bullshit!" Catherine barked. "Are you seriously hiding behind that archaic fraternization policy? Give me a break! You don't really think anyone's going to call you on that, do you?"

Grissom just stared at her, expressionless.

"Gil, you'd have to screw her at the lab, promote her, and give her a twenty percent raise to get someone to call you on that."

Grissom watched Catherine seriously, genuinely intrigued by her opinion. After a moment of consideration, he asked honestly, "Do you really think that?"

Catherine was truly amazed how thick he could be at times. Her face relaxed as a small smile formed. "Yes, I think that."

Grissom remained serious, debating with himself as he had done so many times before. "It's not right," he said finally.

"What's not right?"

"The way I feel about her." He stared out into his living room, not entirely comfortable with the direction the conversation had taken.

"Gil, the world's not going to end if you kiss her; I promise," she offered, rolling her eyes at the thought.

"I don't just want to kiss her," he admitted reluctantly, his voice low and quiet.

Catherine suppressed the urge to wrinkle her face in disgust. "Well, the world won't end if you do that either," she said, her tone revealing her mild repulsion.

Grissom glanced at Catherine, suddenly grateful for her friendship and honesty.

"Would you just go find her? Now! I'm sure she doesn't want to be alone after what happened tonight."

Grissom's body shook with fear as he remembered what happened. He still wasn't certain. Was she really all right? His heart pounded with uncertainty. He needed to see her. He wanted to hold her.

"Is she at home?" he asked gruffly.

"I assume so. I sent her home right after the explosion, she was pretty shaky."

Grissom nodded blankly.

"I suspect she wouldn't mind your company."

"Why was she at her car?" Grissom asked, suddenly needing more details to soothe his disbelieving mind.

"She ran out of gloves. There was a box in her car."

Grissom wrinkled his forehead, finding her luck unbelievable.

Catherine seemed to read his mind. "She was very lucky," she added, before heading toward the front door.

"Hey, Cath?"

She turned back. "Yeah?"

"Thank you."

She smiled, half out of pity and half out of genuine friendship. "Your welcome. Go wash your face. You're a mess." With that, she exited his front door silently.

*-*-*-*-*

Sara stared at the television, her dark living room illuminated by the flickering glow. She was wide awake, usually at work right now, but instead staring mindlessly at cable TV. She silently cursed Catherine for insisting she take off the rest of the shift. She tried unsuccessfully to forget about the explosion and how close she came to dying. Reaching for her glass of water, Sara paused, only to watch her hand tremble in mid air. She grabbed the glass, throwing back several swallows angrily.

She thought for a long time about Grissom, how Brass had called him right after the explosion. In those few minutes, when he thought she was dead, what was he thinking? What was he feeling? Regret? Sadness? Relief? Did he feel anything? She couldn't read that man at all lately, and even doubted her past impressions of him. The glances that lasted too long, the subtle touches that lingered, the suggestive comments, did she imagine all of that? She swore he had feelings for her, but after his unmistakable rejection, she seriously questioned her ability to pick up romantic signals. She shook her head, convinced she would never understand him.

The knock at her door made her jump. Her heart was pounding as she walked to the door, her breathing irregular. She checked the peephole, finding Grissom standing there. Her heart pounded even faster. She knew. She knew why he was here. There could be no other reason. The emotions of the evening hit her full force, and her eyes welled up with tears.

She opened the door slowly, staring at him without expression. Grissom let out an audible sigh of relief at the sight of her. He closed his eyes briefly, silently thanking God for her safety. They just stared at each other, not speaking, and not moving. He had no idea what to say. Sara looked at him almost sympathetically. He just stood there, wanting to hold her more than ever. He had to. He would have to touch her. "I... I don't know why I'm here," he said quietly, his voice lacking strength.

Sara nodded. She needed to feel him. She needed to know he was real, that it was all real. She hadn't imagined it. She reached out her hand, opening her palm, the gesture serving as an unspoken invitation. "I know."

His eyes shifted from her face to her hand, and back again. "I know," Sara repeated, coaxing him into her personal space.

As if with a mind of it's own, Grissom's hand found itself in hers. Sara grasped his hand firmly, almost imperceptibly tugging him into her apartment. Although the touch offered some solace, it wasn't enough. Neither of them was satisfied.

Grissom's eyes never left hers. The door closed, shutting out the bright light from the entryway. The dim glow of her stovetop light barely illuminated their faces, casting dark shadows around them. He could not stop his arms from wrapping around her shoulders. He pulled her close to him, hugging her gently. Sara arms snaked around him, pulling him to her even tighter. "Sara," he began. His voice was oddly weak, as if he was about to cry.

"Shhh... It's okay," Sara said calmly, pressing the side of her face against his. "I'm all right." The feel of him touching her made her want to cry. His enveloping warmth-it was practically overwhelming.

"No, Sara. I have to--"

"No, you don't," she interrupted. "It's okay." She just wanted him to hold her all night. If they talked, all kinds of bad things would happen. Bad things always happened when they talked.

Grissom slid his hands over her back and shoulders. He was surprised how small she seemed, almost frail. He felt like he could swallow her, hide her and protect her, all in this one emotional moment.

"Sara," he began again.

"Don't. Just... don't."

Exasperated, Grissom exhaled. "Would you please let me talk?" He could not and would not release her. He stroked her hair idly.

"Noooo." Sara whined. She ran her hands over his back, noting the tautness of the muscles. "Would you please just hold me?"

Grissom heard her, but was unable to respond. She wanted him to hold her. She needed him still, after everything he had done. It wasn't too late. The rush of relief overwhelmed him. Though his arms didn't move from her, Sara continued pleading, "Please? Don't let me go. Just for right now. Please." She blinked back tears.

"Honey, I don't ever want to let you go," he whispered into her neck, losing himself in her, and fighting his own tears from falling. "That's my problem."

Sara sniffled and smiled, rewarding his honesty with a tiny kiss on his neck.

"I still don't know what to do about this," Grissom said softly, moving his head to look in her eyes. His hands raised and cradled her face tenderly. Sara swallowed hard, watching him intently. "But I don't think my idea of doing nothing is working out."

Sara's smile broadened, and she shook her head. "Me neither."

Their smiles eventually fell, leaving only somber gazes full of desire. Grissom gently ran his thumb over her cheek, watching her eyelids droop with pleasure. He could not imagine if she had died, and he had never gotten the chance to do this, just touch her face.

"You know, I still know what to do about this." She touched his arm, using it to pull herself closer to him.

Grissom eyed her carefully, still unsure of himself. "Yeah?" he asked, his eyes revealing his pending bliss.

"Yeah," she breathed out, shifting her gaze from his eyes to his lips. Grissom watched her closely, wondering if she would really do it. When their lips were only inches apart, Sara stopped.

She cocked her head slightly. "I'm going to kiss you," she warned, checking his eyes for some kind of consent. One corner of Grissom's mouth rose, finding her behavior uniquely charming. She continued lightheartedly, "Are you going to be okay? I don't want you to panic and faint on me or anything."

Grissom smirked, gradually inching his lips closer to hers. "I'll be okay," he answered roughly, focusing his eyes intently on her mouth.

Sara moved her lips toward him as well, making minor detour. She brushed her lips lightly on his face, very close to his mouth. "You sure?" she mumbled, letting her face brush against his sensually.

Grissom whispered, "I'm sure," just as their lips finally touched. For all the pent up sexual tension and years of suppressed emotions, the kiss was agonizingly slow and gentle. On the inside, their hearts may have been beating wildly and their breathing erratic, but on the outside they were both fairly reserved. Grissom's lips barely moved, taking the time to enjoy the mere closeness of her, the feel of her. They seemed to kiss with their whole faces, letting their cheeks and mouths graze each other in sensuous exploration. Their eyes frequently opened, both of them wanting to fully experience the moment they had waited for too long to occur.

Grissom placed his hand behind Sara's head and instinctively deepened the kiss. As the passion intensified, Grissom muttered, "Sa-ra," almost in complaint. He was completely lost in her, his need and want meshing into one uncontrollable urge. He had always suspected this would happen. He had thought about her too long, wanted this for too long. He would not be able to stop. He pulled away from her kiss, still holding her tightly, but needing a moment to compose himself.

Sara apparently didn't need a moment. She gently attacked the sensitive skin of his neck just below his ear, gradually working his earlobe into her mouth. "Sara." He tried. Did he get credit for trying? He was putty in her hands, and it was not a feeling he altogether welcomed. He didn't relinquish control easily. Needing now to be the aggressor, Grissom turned his head and trailed his tongue delicately over her neck, relishing the taste of her and eliciting a soft moan from Sara. She responded by forcefully capturing his lips, needing to taste him again.

"Sara," he muttered again into her mouth, a futile attempt to slow her advances. He groaned with pleasure, as his hands further explored her body. He wanted to touch her everywhere, needed to feel her skin against him. He needed to make love to her. His senses were in overdrive, and he couldn't form a lucid thought, other than the fact that he loved this woman more than anyone or anything. At this moment, it was the only thing he was sure of. The words were brewing in him, seeming to bubble up from his toes. He heard them bounce around his brain before they finally escaped his mouth breathlessly. "I love you so much."

Sara pulled her head back abruptly, tears forming in her eyes. She hugged him so tightly she almost choked him. Eventually loosening her hold on him, Sara exhaled a long, contented sigh before letting her hands slide down his back to his waist and then lower. She resumed kissing his neck, erotically making her way to his ear. "Would you show me?" she whispered, nuzzling his neck and tugging gently at his shirt.

Grissom momentarily snapped back to reality. This was not like him. He did not do things like this. This was a reckless, uninhibited display of emotions. His hand made its way under Sara's shirt, and the warm skin on her back beckoned to him. Then again, this wasn't just some one night stand. It was Sara, and he loved her. She wanted him, and he needed her. Nothing else mattered, for now. All logical thoughts seem to gather in a temporarily unreachable part of his brain. His other hand joined the first, splaying out across her back, pushing her shirt up even further.

"Please?" Sara begged, crashing her lips onto his passionately, no question as to her intentions. She pushed her body against his, making him step backwards into her living room. Grissom gave in completely to his passion for her, and they stumbled into her bedroom like a couple of drunks. Finally making it to the bed, neither of them felt any need to rush, taking their time exploring and enjoying the other. When almost every piece of clothing had been discarded, and the need to unite as one was more intense than they could stand, Sara heard the shrill ringing of her telephone. She ignored it, refusing to pull away from the moment.

"Are you going to answer that?" Grissom muttered, his mouth still pressing into her abdomen.

"No. I'm busy," Sara croaked, pulling his face up to kiss him. The phone stopped ringing, only to begin again a few seconds later. Sara huffed in frustration, reaching across the bed to look at the caller id. "Crap." She said, looking at the display. "It's Catherine."

"I'm not going anywhere. Just answer it." As she picked up the phone, Grissom added uncomfortably, "She may know I'm here."

"Hello?" Sara looked back at Grissom, wondering why Catherine would know he was here.

"How are you doing, Sara?" Catherine asked, her genuine concern evident.

Grissom quietly resumed kissing Sara's stomach, momentarily distracting her from the phone call.

"Oh... Uh, I'm fine."

"Did Grissom come by?" she asked hesitantly. She seriously hoped she wasn't interrupting anything. She just wanted to make sure Sara was all right, and see if they had at least talked.

"Uh... yeah." Sara looked at Grissom, a panicked expression on her face. He didn't look up. "He's... still here," she blurted finally. Grissom looked up at her, smirking at her awkwardness. Sara just wrinkled her brow and raised her hand up in a questioning manner. If she knew he was here, was she supposed to lie and say he wasn't? Just what did she know, anyway?

"Well, go easy on him. He's not being emotionally unresponsive, is he?" Catherine pressed, unable to read Sara's passive tone.

"Um... no?" Sara almost laughed. Grissom kissed his way up her chest, heading for her neck. This was too hard. She grabbed his face, pushing him off her slightly. He sighed in defeat, and then surprised Sara by grabbing the phone away from her.

"Catherine, can Sara call you back?" he asked, his voice purposely lacking emotion.

After a brief pause, Catherine answered, "Oh good Lord. Eeeew! I'm hanging up now."

"Good idea," he affirmed, hanging up the phone and replacing it on the nightstand.

Without a word, they resumed making love, finally joining their bodies as one. Every touch and movement seemed to wipe away the hurt and frustration of the past, comforting both of them. They didn't lose each other. They were given a second chance, and they wisely took it.

Both of them found the overwhelming emotional release immensely satisfying. Although neither was concerned about climaxing, they nonetheless headed full force over the edge to ultimate pleasure. Still holding each other, their breathing eventually slowed as they recovered from the sheer exhilaration.

Grissom stroked Sara's back with feather-like caresses, while she rested her head on his chest. Neither of them spoke for a long time, still unsure exactly what this meant for their relationship or where they would go from here.

Hugging her tightly, Grissom felt incredibly thankful for the moment. "I would not have handled it well if you had died," he said seriously, kissing Sara's forehead.

"Me neither," she replied, raising her eyebrows.

Grissom laughed, hugging her again. His smile fell, as he remembered the heartrending phone call from Brass. "You know, when Brass called to tell me about the explosion, he actually said, It's too late. She's gone." His voice wavered a bit. Sara's mouth opened, knowing how much that must have hurt him. "All I could think about was what you said to me--"

"It's not too late," Sara interrupted, pressing her lips to his as a physical reminder. "I'm sorry," she said weakly, knowing now that those few moments he thought she was dead were terribly painful for him. She raised herself on top of him, and hugged him. "I love you," she whispered. She didn't care what happened later today or tomorrow, for the first time in her life she felt utterly fulfilled.

Grissom seemed to recover from his emotion-packed delirium. "As your supervisor, Ms. Sidle, I feel the need to lay down some ground rules for our new working relationship."

"Ground rules?" Sara asked, intrigued by his lighthearted tone.

"Yes." He paused, deliberately resting his hand on her rear end. "Significant effort will be made to keep it discreet, understood?"

"Understood," Sara agreed with a wink. She sighed dramatically. "Does this mean no sex at work?"

"Yes," he answered, narrowing his eyes back at her. Sara wrinkled her nose defiantly.

Grissom's eyes widened suddenly, when he realized where he was supposed to be. "In other words," he continued. "This was both the first and last time we will ever make love during our shift," he explained. For the first time in his life he actually forgot about work.

Sara laughed, having also completely forgotten that they were both scheduled to work tonight.

Grissom cocked an eyebrow at her playfully, as if expecting an explanation. "Hey, don't look at me. I was sent home!" she defended.

He smiled at her a moment, still in awe of the evening's events. "Are you really all right?" he asked seriously.

Sara kissed him once, slid off him, and sat up in bed. "I think so." She glanced at the clock, before looking back at Grissom. "Let's go to work. Somebody really wanted that strip mall blown to smithereens. I want to find out who." She was already out of bed and searching for her clothes. Within the hour, they were both toiling away at the badly burned crime scene. Life was returning to normal, for them anyway.

- The End -