A/N: It's a long one! Not even sure what it's about, but I was encouraged to post, so here we are!

This is also my 20th story, which may or may not seem like much, but I never thought I'd have the motivation or the inspiration to get this far. So I'm dedicating this to someone who both motivates me and inspires me; my friend Leah, who is 18 years old and doing a heck of a job battling stage four cancer. We love you!

Mind the rating. And enjoy!

Sometimes I think that bringing her to Vegas was the worst thing I could have done for her. It was selfish, and I know it. No matter how many times I told her the lab needed her, no matter how many times I tantalized her with the visualization of working at the number two lab in the country, I brought her there for me and I knew it. In San Francisco, she had been such a bright, vibrant young woman. Stars in her eyes and smile that nothing seemed to wipe off. Her youth and innocence and enthusiasm dazzled me and I couldn't get her smile out of my head, even after I left California. I thought about how it felt when she stood very, very close to me, arms and shoulders and fingertips brushing. I thought about how very soft her hands were when one of them slipped into mine.

There was no one I trusted more to handle Holly's investigation than Sara. She was more than capable, and yet, when I made that infamous call, it wasn't the investigation on my mind, it was that smile.

However, I soon doubted my decision. It didn't take long for me to see that the hours were catching up with her, the gruesome scenes taking a toll on her and, no matter how well she got along with Nick and Greg and the like, the smiles were starting to fade from her face. She was still the sharp-witted, intelligent Sara, but her energy was starting to wane.

I'll never forget Kaye Shelton. And Pam Adler. I'll never forget what an impact their cases had on Sara and I'll never forget how guilty I felt that I was the one responsible for exposing her to them. No, I hadn't killed Kaye and attacked Pam, but Sara would have never had to tackle the emotion of seeking justice for them had she still been working days in San Fran. Yes, that was my fault.

It was new and scary, having Sara so close. Watching her suffer, become emotional, but trying to remain impartial and detached. It was like fighting a chocolate craving when Mom's deluxe double chocolate cake was sitting there right in front of me. It took everything in my power to keep myself from reaching out and grabbing a big handful, instead, offering what I hoped were comforting words and helpful suggestions. It was enough. Sara expected more, and honestly, I expected more from myself. I cared for her, cared for her deeply, and this was never more obvious to me than during her first year in Vegas.

I should have done so many things differently, I know that now. It wasn't too long after she'd arrived in Vegas that I thought she'd be leaving again. How a simple plant with a simple message had convinced her to stay, I have no idea. Since then, I've composed at least a dozen different, much more eloquent messages I could have sent her. Tack it up on the "Things Grissom could have done differently" board. But I suppose it worked. I guess I had banked on her always being there. The threat of a life in Vegas without her was suddenly terrifying. How had I survived before she had arrived? Heaven knows Vegas would never be the same again without her.

I would never be the same without her. That much I knew.

Sometimes I think that pushing her away was the worst thing I could have done for her. It was cruel, and I know it. And it was all down to my insecurities and fears.

Seriously, I am in the king of leading people on. I mean, "since I met you"? Really? That's not to say it wasn't true, it absolutely was, but she had a boyfriend. I shouldn't have said that, not then. I could see the shock in her face, even if I wasn't looking at her, but kept calm and carried on. Business as usual.

But many of our days after that hockey case were anything but business as usual. God, Sara scared me so many times after that. I'll never forget the day the lab blew up. And not because it was Catherine's fault, or because I was facing the big bosses breathing down my neck to explain why it happened, but because it took weeks for the image of Sara sitting on the sidewalk, cradling an injured hand, to fade from my memory. It was a first glance into her vulnerability. And it scared the hell out of me.

Debbie Marlin, another case I'll definitely never forget. And that scared the hell out of me, too. The entire case, the entire time I processed that house, I couldn't help myself seeing Sara hurt. Harmed, injured, or even dead like Debbie. That case wins the award for Case That Kept Grissom Up at Night for the Longest Amount of Time. Three weeks, to be exact. I just couldn't get it out of my head. I'd wake up in cold sweats, fresh from another nightmare presenting Sara harmed in some way or another. And then I'd have to find the energy to get out of bed, get to the lab and see her, face to face.

She was right, I did see her every day. But I wasn't really seeing her. I was being more horrible to her than I'd ever had, pushing her away for my own benefit. I literally couldn't bring myself to see her, look into her eyes without the fear of crying. If I had an idea of what I was doing to her, really doing to her, I would have… well, probably not changed in an instant, but at least tried harder.

Sara Scares the Hell Out of Grissom take three. If the explosion was a glimpse into vulnerability, then I don't even know how to define that night. Something changed between us that night. I know she was embarrassed, ashamed. I could see it in her eyes. I tried to put everything I wanted to say into that touch, that squeeze of her hand. The car ride that night was silent, but I managed to get at least a few things out when we got to her place. That I wasn't disappointed in her. That I didn't think less of her. And that while I'd appreciate an explanation, I didn't expect one. I didn't do much talking after that. Sara took care of that. She poured her heart out to me, and I did the best I could. Again, I felt like I was stuck in a battle of wills, fighting between what I wanted and what I had to do. I wanted to take her into her arms, wipe away the tears that were making her eyes so watery and hold her until morning. But what I had to do was be a friend. It was about time that I acted like a friend to her.

If something changed between us then, our relationship was nothing but revolutionized with Sara Scare take four. When I heard she'd been suspended by Ecklie, I could have given a rat's ass about the details, for the moment. I wanted nothing more than to know she was okay. That was not my Sara, the Sara, I knew. Again we sat, and again we talked, Sara again pouring her heart to me as I could do nothing but helplessly listen, offer what I could, and squeeze her hand at all the right moments. The urge to really, really comfort her was clawing at me from the inside, pounding on my chest, desperate to get out, and I did all I could to suppress it. Again.

Sara Scare take five: the first time I saw her in real danger. It was all of my nightmares post-Debbie come true. It was fear in her eyes and a pounding in my heart that I knew wouldn't go away if I squeezed my eyes shut tight enough. I was frozen, petrified, despite the fact that inside, I was screaming to bust into that room myself, tackle Adam to the ground and get that weapon away from my Sara. I'd almost lost her before Adam Trent, in many different ways, but in no way as real as on that stormy night.

I could never let anything hurt her. I'd protect her at all costs. That much I knew.

Sometimes I think that going to Sara's that night, after Nick's incident, was the worst thing I could have done for her. It was risky, and I knew it. We were both at our emotional ends, hanging by a thread and longing to be in the company of anybody, so that we wouldn't have to be alone. But when I stopped for a minute for the first time in what seemed like days, I realized I didn't want the company of anyone but her.

And so I went. Sara had opened the door, looking as shaken and scared as I looked and I didn't say a word before I crossed the threshold of her apartment, took her into my arms, and stood there for who knows how long. She cried into my shoulder, and all of a sudden, I realized that at some point, I had started crying too. Somehow, we made our way completely into the apartment and onto Sara's couch, thighs touching and hands clasped. We talked, a lot, that night, and I really can't remember exactly what about. A lot of reassurances and relief. And as I looked at her, I realized that over the years, I had been attracted to Sara, been scared of her, longed for her and lusted her. But that night, I needed her.

I can't remember the conversation, but I definitely remember the kiss. I remember being close enough to Sara to see every glistening tear in her eyes, every freckle on her face. I remember the hesitancy with which our lips met, and how soft hers felt against mine. I remember my stomach feeling like it was being twisted in knots, and how badly I wanted to kiss her harder, more deeply, but fighting the urge to keep it soft and gentle.

When Sara pulled away, she was breathless. She didn't take her eyes off of me, and I couldn't pull mine away from hers.

"What does this mean?" she had asked in a whisper.

I reached out and put my hand in her hair, brushing it back from her face, a gesture I had long yearned to do. Her head bent towards my touch.

"I don't want this to be a mistake," she had followed.

I didn't know how to tell her that what I was feeling. It wasn't as simple as "I'm ready" or "I want to be with you now", though I was and I did. I wanted to tell her that I wanted this to be a new beginning and a start of something… real, something serious. But it wasn't the moment for that. We were still fragile, in the aftermath of Nick's rescue and in our relationship together. Now was the time for more reassurance.

It came in the form of a kiss. And another, and another. Some that were soft and gentle like the first, more later on that were deep and pressing. Earlier that night, there had been so many thoughts racing through my mind, but then and there, on the couch, one thought and one thought only ran through my mind – I like kissing Sara.

And she liked kissing me. I could feel her tremble underneath me, and I could see the look in her eyes when our gazes met. I could see that she was feeling what I was feeling. Everything about it was beyond what I had envisioned, the kisses more powerful, the touches more exhilarating and her skin softer than I had ever imagined.

I didn't sleep with Sara that night. That milestone came weeks later, after we went on a few genuine dates and had talked, really talked, about us. About what we wanted and what we could become. I still felt twinges of fear when I thought about the risk we were taking or the possibility of losing her, but mostly, I felt nothing but happiness and exhilaration, feeling like I had finally found my purpose in this world.

Feeling like I was deeply, madly in love.

Sometimes I think that proposing to her, at that moment in our lives, was the worst thing I could have done for her. It was genuine, and I knew it. There was no doubt that I loved her. I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. But I still can't help but think that I should have waited, waited until both her feet were definitely, firmly on the ground, waited until she was completely healed. Sometimes I think that proposing to her, right then, was part of the reason why she left, a few weeks later. She assures me that it's not.

I didn't even have a ring! Smooth Move Grissom Number Eight Hundred and Ninety Four. It pretty much still blows my mind that she said yes.

I didn't use to understand how one could go from one end of the emotional spectrum to the other so quickly, but in the few weeks following our engagement, I found out. I'd never been as low as I was when Sara left. I mean, I called my mother. My mother. There I was, a middle-aged man, crying to his mother on the phone because his heart was hurting.

I was hurting. From the tips of my fingers to the depth of my belly, I ached for her. I found out how much the little things mattered after I didn't have them any more. I would have traded any forensic conference in the word to have her bar of lavender soap next to my generic, non-scented brand in the shower. Little things.

For fear of sounding pathetic, it was a pretty dark time in my life. Sara knows this, and we've talked about it, but allowing myself to have her was the biggest risk I'd taken in my entire life. A risk that, I thought, would be my downfall. Just wait until I decided to quit my job and run after her. I think Mom had a heart attack when I let her in on that little plan.

It wasn't the first time I'd encountered this discovery, maybe it took something drastic for it to finally sink in, but it came down to this: with Sara gone, things were pretty bleak. With her around, I could have been crowned the happiest man on earth. That made things pretty clear. I wasn't going to let her get away.

Not if my life depended on it.

Sometimes I think that maintaining a long-distance marriage was the worst thing I could have done for her. It was abnormal, and I knew it. Yet, when Ecklie called to interrupt our omelets breakfast that morning, I was the one who encouraged her to go. Played up to her sense of independence and told her it would bring us closer together. It worked, for a long while. Longer than most people would expect, I think. Yes, it was unconventional, but so were we. It made the time we spent together that much more special and it worked for us.

But over time, the goodbyes got harder. The weeks she spent in Vegas felt longer. And I started wondering how in the world I thought that spending so much time apart from my wife was such a brilliant idea. Why would any man choose to spend so many nights in bed alone, instead of wrapped around a beautiful woman? I must have been crazy.

Eventually, Sara and I grew a little… distant, even when we were together. Neither of us loved each other less, that much I knew. But over dinner one night, I realized that she had lately seemed perpetually sad, and it was a side of her I hadn't seen in a long while. I watched her stare at her plate sadly, pushing her food around with her fork, and I wanted to say something, I really did, but I literally couldn't find the words. You'd think that being a married man, I'd get used to talking about feelings, but… I didn't.

We kept having sex, but it was… not our usual. Nothing with Sara could possibly be classified as ordinary, but things didn't have our usual spark. I kept hoping it was a funk, that she'd grow out of it, but weeks later, when she rolled away from me after sex, her bare back facing me and her shoulders hunched, I knew I was letting her down.

"Honey?" I had whispered, running the pads of my fingers down her arm. I saw goose bumps arise on her skin, but she neither shuddered nor answered. "What's wrong?"

I expected a "fine" or an "I'm tired".

"In two days, I'll be back in Vegas again," she said instead. "Back to an empty apartment and an empty bed."

She sighed and rolled onto her back.

"I'm starting to think your mother is right," she said. "We wasted… well, we… lost so many years getting where we are now. Why aren't we… why don't we…"

She trailed off, swallowing hard, so the tears threatening her eyelashes wouldn't spill over. I leaned over and pressed my nose to her cheek.

"God, Sara," I had said to her jaw line. "Tell me I'm not right back where we started. Tell me I'm not an idiot, and I've messed up so badly that I can't fix it. Tell me I haven't hurt you."

Her gaze softened, and her hand moved to my face, pushing it away a little as she her fingers stroked my cheek.

"You didn't mess up," she whispered. "You didn't hurt me. We've just been taking the easy route. We have to start working at this again."

I nodded my agreement.

"In the morning, let's figure things out," I said. "Vegas, Paris… hell, Madagascar, I don't really care where we are, as long as I'm with you."

She smiled a little and curled up to me as she usually did. As I draped an arm around her in my usual way, I couldn't help but smile a little too. We'd be okay.

Who was I kidding? It was Sara. We'd be more than okay.

I often think of my life according to Sara. It's been complicated, and I know it. Before her, when life hadn't really started, during the crazy ups and downs of our relationship when we met and while we worked together, and the eventual realization that I could no longer live without her as I fell in love with her. I fall more and more in love with her every day.

"What are you thinking?"

I let my finger stroke her cheek.

"How much I love you."

"Well, in that case, I love you, too."

She grinned at me.

"You are so beautiful, Sara."

She raised an eyebrow at me and I knew she was doubting me, most likely taking into consideration her damp, curling hair, her make-up-less face and lack of clothing, save for a tank top and pair of cotton panties. In short, just how I loved her most.

I replaced the finger on her cheek with my mouth, planting short kisses down her neck and onto her chest.

"And you're all mine."

She gave a low chuckle that sent a chill down my spine.

"Now that," she murmured. "That is true."

She started kissing me back, and I became immediately aware of the tightness in my groin. I swear, one kiss, and Sara had me to pieces. I ran my fingers up her arms, resting on her shoulders for a moment before pushing the straps of her tank top down. I tugged the top a little harder, exposing her creamy breasts. I started giving them my attention, circling one nipple with my tongue as my fingertip lightly circled the other. Sara's hands were in my hair, and she gave the slightest of groans when I started to suck harder. The noise made me tremble.

I went back to kissing her on the mouth, my hands still on her breasts, as her fingers tugged at the elastic band of my boxers under the covers. It didn't take her long to get them to my ankles, and she broke our lip-to-lip contact to disappear under the covers.

"Honeeeey," I moaned, desperate to kiss her more. "Where did you go?"

Her answer was the placing of her lips on a different part of me, the suddenness making me gasp. I struggled to push the covers down at least halfway, so I could see her tangled head of hair poking out from the covers, already moving back and forth slowly with my penis in her mouth. She had one hand on the base of me and the other had her fingernails trailing circles up and down the inside of my thigh. The combination was intoxicating.

Her tongue circled the tip of me, licking off what had already built up there, and my hands went to her head, pushing her to take me further into her. She bobbed faster, harder and I could feel my climax already pulsing through me. Sara didn't remove her mouth, she was as persistent in sex as she was with anything else, she would never quit halfway. My body couldn't take it any longer, and I was soon shuddering with my orgasm, feeling myself release into her mouth. Sara finished with a few last licks and strokes and began to crawl out from the covers, her eyes sparkling, biting her lip in a way that was partly seductive and partly too damn cute. I wanted her so much.

The minute we were nose-to-nose again, we were kissing, and it was my turn to pull her panties to her ankles. She wriggled a little on top of me to get them completely off, and she pressed her core to my still-throbbing groin, wiggling again, just to tease me. I positively growled at her before seizing her hips and throwing her beneath me. My hands were on either side of her hips, our noses and lips centimeters from each other. She looked straight in my eyes.

"Pin me down."

If I nearly collapsed at her words, I was probably close to fainting after the sexy little smirk she gave me afterwards. I moved my hands from the mattress onto her wrists and somehow managed to pin her ankles down with my feet. She was sprawled out beneath me, in all her naked glory, and all I could think about was how amazing it was that I had her all to myself. I wanted to touch her, every part of her, and I knew where to start first.

I removed one hand from her wrist, knowing she wouldn't move it, and trailed it further south, stopping at her core, which was already as damp as mine was throbbing. I started circling her, while brushing my hard errection against the inside of her thigh, teasing her as she did me. Without warning, I dipped to fingers in her, feeling pleased when Sara gasped in response, her back already arching against me and her hips raising to grind against my fingers. I slid myself a little further down her and started to place small kisses on her stomach, on her things and on her folds, light enough to tease but hard enough to make her want me.

"Oh, god," she moaned as I picked up the pace, knowing exactly where to put each finger. I knew Sara's body as well, if not better, than I knew my own. "God… gah… please, Gil."

I removed my mouth from her.

"Please, what?"

She was in no state to give me a full answer. She was panting, her hands grasping either side of the mattress, and her hips still in the air, pushing against my fingers. She was craving my touch, just as much as I was craving her taste, and I didn't wait for her to answer before I was back on her again, my own urgency matching hers.

I heard a high-pitched squeak as I felt her muscles clench around my fingers, and I knew she was close. Her body began to tremble, and I felt another rush of satisfaction that I, her old man husband, was able to do this to her.

"Go, Sara," I instructed her from below. "Go."

She didn't need me to tell her twice. She was rippling through her own orgasm in no time, chest heaving up and down and beads of sweat glistening from her forehead.

"Jesus Christ," she breathed.

I gave her no time to recover. Her body felt like jell-o as I placed my hands on her hips again and tugged her closer to me. She giggled.

"What are you doing?"

I answered her non-verbally, scooting closer to her and grabbing her ankles, pulling them up to rest on my shoulders. She was now lying on her back, her legs on my shoulders, spread apart, with the tip of me lying just outside her entrance. She gave me a little look – this was a new position for us. It was her fault, really, she shouldn't do all sorts of things with her legs during Wii yoga… right there in front of me! What was I supposed to imagine?

I started to slide myself into her and she gasped. I slid in further, realizing how really deep I could go this way, and the both of us nearly screamed bloody murder. Thanks God the Wilson's next door were out of town in Boca for the week.

It became urgent, the need for both of us to feel each other, and I kept my hands on her ankles, pushing her back and forth while I pumped. I had the greatest view of her, and she was staring back up at me with pure love in her eyes. It wasn't long before both of us grew tense, Sara rocking hard, wanting to bring me to the edge yet again. That thought instantly took me there, and I felt Sara squeeze my thigh in encouragement. For the second time on the bed that night, I let myself release into her, shouting all sorts of incomprehensible things and her name, several times.

I leaned back and collapsed onto the bed in the aftermath, starting to feel exhausted. But Sara wasn't done just yet. I was still inside of her, and she maneuvered herself a little so that she was straddling me, her knees on either side of my hips. My member still hard as a rock, she placed her hands on my chest and started swaying her hips, back and forth, front and back, and in every which way. I felt myself moving all around inside her and since it wasn't as hard and quick as before, it allowed for us to stay that way for a long while, long enough for Sara's second orgasm to build up, shudder through, and make her collapse in relief beside me. We laid with our heads at the foot of the bed, our feet tucked under our pillows and our arms wrapped around each other. I was still partly inside her, unwilling to lose that intimate contact.

Her hair was damp again, this time from sweat, her face and entire body flushed. I pressed her close enough to feel the steady beating of her heart against mine. Our two hearts, joined together as they were meant to be.

"You know, sometimes I think I'll wake up and this will all be a dream," she said.

I titled my head at her to show my curiosity.

"Everything in my life had to be difficult, nothing came easy," she continued. "So I guess I just… expect to wake up one day and realize that I'm really not this happy. It's too easy."

"It's easy to love you too," I smiled at her.

"It wasn't always so easy," she reminded me with a smile of her own.

"No," I agreed. "It wasn't. But the best things in life are never easy."

She gave me a soft kiss.

"You are definitely the best thing in my life."

"Right back at you, kid."

She laughed.

"What?" I asked, jokingly defensive.

"You sound like Humphrey Bogart,"* she answered. I chuckled.

"I'll be the Humphrey to your Ingrid any day."

She smiled, looking entirely happy and satisfied.

"I love you so much," she whispered.

"I love you too, Sara," I murmured back.

She snuggled even closer to me, her head on my chest and my chin resting on her curls. My eyes fluttered asleep, feeling as entirely happy and satisfied as she had looked.

Yes, I often think of my life according to Sara. And everyday I think about how she's the best thing that ever happened to me. It's true, and I know it.

The End

*Reference is to the movie Casablanca.

I hope you enjoyed! Review?