In Blue

A/N: Sorry for not updating sooner, life has been hectic. I won't promise the next update will be sooner, because I'm not sure I can live up to it. Thanks to Miri for the quick beta and The Corrs for their inspirational music and lyrics. This is for you Ands!

Look at me, see me.
Look at me, save me.
Free me, find me,
'cos if there's somebody for someone,
yeah look at me.

He helped her out of the car and led her into the police station. Well... Actually she led him, striding forward up the stairs, through the doors and halting at the reception.

"Where is he?" she asked the seemingly oblivious receptionist.

"Hi," Grissom swooped in, "this is Sara Sidle and my name is Gil Grissom, we're from the crime lab. You're new here aren't you?"

"Yes, I am," the petite blond woman answered.

"What's your name?"

"Jane. Jane Delmare."

"Okay, Jane," Grissom smiled.

"Would you just hurry up?" Sara hissed at him, distraction forgotten, and anxiety now back in place.

"Jane," Grissom repeated, undisturbed by the jumpy brunette by his side, "Could you page captain Jim Brass for us?"

"Sure mr. Grissom."

With a smile at Grissom and a glare at Sara she got to business.

It was only five minutes -agonizing Sara jumps at everyones throats minutes- before Brass picked them up at the desk and took them over to interrogation.

"We have Jason Daniels in custody," he informed them, "took a while to track him down, he wasn't at home. Some friendly neighbors adviced us to check the Bellagio and the Tangiers. We found him at a roulette table hitting the big ones."

"He's a gambler?" Sara asked.

"He denies he is, as do most gamblers."

Brass led them into the interrogation room and both Grissom and Sara sat down opposite a burly blonde-haired man.

"I'm Gil Grissom and this is my colleague Sara Sidle, we're with the Las Vegas Crime Lab. I take it you've already met detective Jim Brass... State your name please?" Grissom asked.

"You know my name."

Sara clenched her fist at the provoking coolness of their suspect.

"State your name, wise guy," Brass said.

"Jason Henry Daniels."

The man looked at them with pale blue eyes.

"Will you tell me why I'm here then?"

"I think you know why you're here." Grissom took the crime scene photo's out of his file and shoved them towards Mr. Daniels.

"See, you killed your ex-wife and daughters and when you raped the youngest you left your DNA. Codis gave a hit, because -what-do-you-know?- you've been in prison until last week."

"They're not my daughters."

"You are registered as the father on both birth certificates," Brass said.

"The eldest, the tramp, I'm ashamed to say she's mine."

"Tramp?" Sara hissed, "you call your own daughter a tramp?"

"She was! I tried to beat it out of her, but she kept showing up with guys and my good-for-nothing wife just cheered her on."

"That's why when your wife turned out to be pregnant with your second child you beat the crap out of her?"

"She wasn't pregnant. That little tramp! She got knocked up at 14!"

"You know," Grissom said, "sexual activity at a young age is often caused by a lack of parental love, especially from the father. They seek the love they missed in the arms of another male."

"Thanks for the lesson, Dr. Phil! I fucking told her not to have sex. I forbade her to date and she did not obey my orders!"

"So when you found out she was pregnant you beat the hell out of her and your wife?" Sara wheezed.

"She wanted to fucking keep it! She was a kid herself! She should've given that bastard child up for adoption!"

"Your wife was a strong woman, so she called the cops on you and filed for divorce."

"She shouldn't have done that. She should've listened to me. I'm a man, she should've known who was boss."

Sara shot up from her chair, hands firmly placed in front of her.

"So what was it, Mr. Daniels? Beating them up wasn't enough for you? You liked prison so much you decided to commit another crime to be locked away longer? What? What made you kill your wife, daughter and granddaughter?"

A vein twitched in Mr. Daniels' forehead.

"Don't you, fucking call that bastard child my granddaughter, you bitch."

Grissom grabbed Sara's hand which she had subconsciously lifted from the table and brought in front of the suspect, pointing a finger at him.

"Why did you rape the little girl, Mr. Daniels?" he asked with a soft voice while slowly coaxing Sara to sit back down.

"Do you have kids, Mr. Grissom?"

"No, I don't."

"Then you have no idea what it's like when your daughter gets nailed by every guy in the district at the age of 12. She was way too young to have sex. I wanted to make her feel what it's like to have your kid being fucked at too young an age."

Sara turned her face away from the suspect and inhaled deeply. Then she stood up, turned towards the door and walked out.

Grissom found her half an hour later, drinking a cup of coffee on the front steps of the police station. Her eyes red and puffy, her hands shaking.

"I thought you preferred tea?" he softly said.

"Yeah, well.. Sometimes the situation begs for something stronger," she shrugged.

"Mind if I join you?"

Sara nodded vaguely in the general direction of the steps, "sure."

Grissom lowered himself on the warm stone and looked at her.

"I've known you for a while now and I know some cases are harder on you than others. You told me why, last year."

He softly grabbed hold of her hand.

"Sara... Why do I get the feeling you didn't tell me everything?"

Sara just shook her head and stared silently in the distance. She took another sip of her coffee and put the cup on her left.

"I did tell you everything there is to say. It just scares me how much that asshole in there reminds me of my father. I've always hated my mother for doing what she did, but who knows what might have happened to all of us if she hadn't."

"You know..." Grissom said, "I could say that I know how you feel, but I don't. I haven't been there and I am very thankful for that. I could say that you should go talk to a therapist, but you and I both know it won't change anything.
"I know you're hurting and I know you're scared and that that probably won't change. Apart from that... I don't know if there's anything I could say to make it better."

Sara looked at him, a small smile playing around her lips, but her eyes still watery.

"You're sweet, you know that?"

Grissom stared at his shoes and blushed slightly.

"No, really. You don't pretend that you know my feelings and that's a nice change of pace."

Grissom rose to his feet and extended his hand. "Breakfast?"

"Pancakes?"

"With all the syrup you want."

"Hmm.. Sounds like a plan."

They crossed the parking lot and climbed into Grissom's Denali for the third time that evening.

"There's a nice place at the corner of Fairfield and Baltimore," Grissom suggested.

"Then why aren't the wheels rolling yet?"

They were seated across from each other half an hour later, Sara with a large cup of tea, Grissom with a double latte.

"Feeling a bit better now?" he asked her.

Sara shrugged, "a bit. But I keep thinking how different my life would be if my father lived. How much I would've missed out on, how much more he would've hurt my family."

Grissom nodded, taking her hand in his. "Things happen for a reason, I guess."

She wolfed down her breakfast like it was the first thing she ate in weeks.

"Bese paccakes aw belicious," she mumbled with her mouth full, pointing at the remainders of her stack of pancakes.

Grissom, who had ordered bacon and eggs and was only half way, just smiled at her.

He paid for breakfast, held open her door again and drove her home, the perfect gentleman.

On the steps of her apartment building, she turned to face him.

"Grissom?"

"Yes?" His blue eyes sparkled in the morning light.

"Thank you again, for taking my mind off things. The body farm was really great. And thanks for breakfast, that was wonderful."

He nodded. "You're welcome Sara, it was about time that I did something nice."

"You know, you're not that bad."

She stared down at his hands, then looked him in the eye.

"Thanks," she whispered, softly leaning in and hovering above his cheek, "for everything."

The scent of him made her dizzy, no cologne, but just, pure Grissom. Spicy, manly, sweet. The heat was radiating off of his skin and his scruff was softly tickling her nose. She inhaled deeply and then placed a soft kiss on his jaw, breathing out against his skin.

Taking a step back she stared at the ground, whispering, "I'm sorry about that."

"Sara," Grissom sighed.

He wrapped his right arm around her waist, cupping her face with his left hand and guiding his mouth to hers. He captured her gaze and when he saw that Sara slowly closed her eyes, he softly landed his lips on hers.

Sara gasped as her head and stomach started to spin with the sensation of him devouring her mouth.

Grissom sucked on her bottom lip and when she opened her mouth his tongue sought entrance. He tasted pancakes and tea on her, she tasted coffee and bacon on him and to her surprise, wasn't repulsed. His tongue's soft strokes made everything worthwhile.

"God... Sara," he whispered.