He's always trying to save the world.

"You look tired," he says softly into my ear, making me shiver slightly.

When he came in, I was sitting on the sofa in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. I hadn't expected him tonight. He startled me; he has a silent way of moving, almost like he appears from thin air.

My head is resting on my hand, my eyes half closed. The television is playing softly, I think the ten o'clock news just made way for Jay Leno.

"Not really," I say, lying. I'm exhausted. I'm a housekeeper at a resort hotel by day and a front desk clerk at the same resort hotel every other night. I haven't had a day off in two and half weeks.

I can hear his small laugh, more like an exaggerated exhalation of breath. I can feel the smile that must be gracing his thin lips. My eyes droop closed for a second and he laughs again.

"You're a terrible liar," he says softly.

I can only nod, returning the rare smile that crosses his face. I feel his hand come to rest on my shoulder.

"You should probably get to bed," he suggests.

"So should you," I counter, knowing full well that he won't fall asleep for hours yet; the images of senseless violence from his day in the field.

The news began reporting some of said violence and I can feel, more than hear him sigh. He's disgusted with how terrible people can act towards each other.

"Well, I'll tell you what," he begins, coming around the side of the sofa to stand before me. He's wearing his blue ensemble: dark navy jacket and slacks that shimmer subtly in the light, a soft light blue cotton button down shirt, a black leather belt with a silver buckle, and a pair of black dress shoes.

His places his hands on his hips, opening the waist of his jacket as he does so. He cocks his head to one side, that patient smile resurfacing.

"Why don't we go together," he finishes.

I nod, grudgingly accepting the offer that he's made.

"We could just sleep here," I offer, nodding towards the sofa.

He laughs once more.

"I'll carry you," he says flatly.

I can't help but laugh at that.

"I'm a bit offended by that giggle," he says. His eyes light up when he smiles.

"You don't smile enough," I tell him seriously. My eyes are still closed, my words slightly slurred from sleepiness.

"I'll smile more for you if you come to bed."

Tempting.

"Fine," I sigh. I open my eyes and look him over once more. He looks so worn out. My heart breaks for him. I wish I could do something to help.

As though reading my mind, he says, "Just be here."

I nod and stand. I step forward and close the space between us. I stand on tip-toe and slip my arms around his shoulders, our noses nearly touching. I marvel for a moment at how blue his eyes are before I press my cheek against his shoulder and squeeze him tightly.

He hesitates for a second, as he always does, never sure if what he's doing his right. I always have to remind him that, despite the nearly twenty years difference in our age, I'm a grown woman and can pretty much be with whomever I want to be with.

After his second of uncertainty, he wraps his arms around me and hugs me back. Wary, as always, of my reaction, he places a soft kiss on the top of my head.

"Let's go to bed," he whispers.

It's never been about sex. Sure, there is sex, but that's not what this relationship is about. I want to be with him because he's just as lonely as I am, if not more. He walls himself off from the world he's trying so desperately to save because he's been hurt by it. We've both been hurt by the world, sure. He's lost family, mine gave me up. He thought he had true love within his reach, in his sister in-law, I was turned off trying to find it altogether.

As he leads me into the bedroom, his arm about my waist, I can't help but laugh a bit at what a pair we make.

He smiles yet again, as promised, but he couldn't possibly know what I'm thinking. He pushes the door aside and gently maneuvers my sleepy body towards the bed. I sit on the edge of the bed and remove my sweats so that I'm sitting in a t-shirt and a pair of dark blue panties. I pull my knees to my chest and rest my chin on them.

He turns and admires me for a moment as he removes his jacket, carefully placing it on the back of the chair at my desk. I watch him as he unbuttons his shirt, setting it gently over his jacket.

I can't help a soft laugh when he hesitates removing his white undershirt.

"What?" he asks, deciding to remove his belt instead.

"How do you live wearing so many clothes?" I ask.

He laughs as well and gives me a small shrug. He sets the belt on the top of the small pile he's made and kicks his shoes off, nudging them beneath the chair.

He takes off his socks and sets them inside his shoes before coming to stand before me in his undershirt and boxers.

"Come to bed," I say. I crawl beneath the comforter and sheet and pull them aside for him.

He smiles warmly and climbs in beside me. I immediately wrap my arms around him and hold him close. He sighs dreamily and holds me to him, kissing my forehead as he does.

"Do you have to go in tomorrow?" I ask, knowing full well that he does. He's in the lab everyday, always trying to put something right.

He nods and squeezes me tightly, as though he doesn't intend to let me go.

"You can't save the world, Horatio."

"Maybe not," he says softly. "But I can try."

He does try, I think as I fall asleep in the safety of his arms.

He does try.