a/n: This is a random one-shot, like the other stories I've posted on here...It's post-LD and takes place mid-season 8...assuming Sara makes a recovery. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for taking a few minutes to check it out!

Three Sentences of Three Words

Sara woke up with the sun in her eyes. It was a little unusual, seeing as she usually woke up as it was setting, veiling Vegas in hazy pink light. It was also unusual because her apartment bedroom window didn't face the sunset. Then again, she wasn't in her regular bedroom. Blinking slightly, she propped herself up on her elbows and looked around the room. Painted in warm colours, the early morning light made the room glow around her.

A sleepy groan tore her attention away from the bedroom décor. Grissom was stirring, automatically reaching out for his glasses on the bedside table. He lay on his stomach next to her, clad in nothing but a pair of old plaid pajama pants, one leg of which she could see sticking out of the soft brown duvet cover. She watched the still defined muscles in his shoulders flex as his arm stretched toward the table. Her hand involuntarily reached out to softly stroke his back. She was suddenly enthralled with the way her pale hand looked against the darker skin of his back. She hadn't much touched him since she'd gotten out of the hospital…

He was slightly startled to feel her cool hand against his back and turned to look at her, his glasses left forgotten on the nightstand. Sara looked down at him, her eyes smiling, but her mouth not. He was staring up at her, half of his face squished up against his pillow. His face softened at Sara's gaze and the blue eyes she loved so much twinkled, even in the shadow of the sun. He sighed as her hands (now plural) moved to his shoulders. This was always how he'd imagined the start of his days off.

But he had not expected this from her…ever since her rescue from under the car, she'd been a little hesitant towards intimacy between them. She had been stiff when he held her close, and sometimes she'd slip off into another world of her own. Grissom missed touching her. He missed being close to her. He had become accustomed to it; being near her at all times, touching her every chance he could without even realizing it. It had almost killed him to stop.

But this morning Sara miraculously came back to him. Her hands were soon replaced by her lips, placing the gentlest of kisses along the ridges of his shoulders and collar bone. He rolled over and her lips found his, finally pouring six weeks of missed kisses into one. Not saying a word, they fell into the familiar pattern of their lovemaking once again. Grissom, at first, was unsure if he should touch her or not, but she soon sensed this and grasped his hands in her own, putting them against her skin.

She was ready.

As always, the world both paused and fast-forwarded at the same time as they came together…Bodies moving against each other, glowing and yet silhouetted in the morning sun. Not a word was spoken, but groans and sighs were not missing. Words weren't needed, gentle touches and warm kisses were enough. These were moments that Grissom wondered if Sara wasn't the most beautiful and amazing thing God had ever created.

Finally, Grissom let out a cry out seconds after Sara's own cry had filled the room. Panting, he lay his head on her chest, placing his beautiful lips against the creamy skin. Sara's eyelids heavily slid down. He could feel her fingers softly massaging his scalp.

"I missed you," he whispered. A twitch that was the closest to a smile since she'd come out of the hospital crossed her lips.

"I missed you first," she replied, thinking of his four week sabbatical. Grissom pressed his lips once more against her breast.

"I love you," he said against her skin.

"I loved you first," she replied. Grissom sighed. He knew this was true. The two three-word sentences that had been so hard for him to say were just not enough. The articulate Grissom needed to give up complication and perfection. Sara needed more than those two short sentences. She could have said either of those seven years ago.

"I'm sorry, Sara," he said sincerely, lifting his head to look into her eyes. She knew what he meant; he was sorry for not acting upon their relationship before, he was sorry for not telling her he loved her earlier, he was sorry for her broken childhood, her was sorry for every single hardship that she had ever had to go through.

This time, he knew the three words he spoke were the right ones, for Sara actually smiled. She stroked the soft tufts of his hair. She replied with three beautiful words of her own.

"You're forgiven, Gil."

He rolled them both over and pulled her into his embrace. His Sara was back. And he'd finally made amends with both himself and Sara. He then held her until they both gave in to the soft grasp of sleep, with those wonderful three-word sentences they had waited forever for still hanging in the air.

a/n: Thanks for reading! Comments would be nice...Have a good one.