A/N: Thanks to The Artist Formally Known As Laura Katharine (insert weird-ass symbol) for the beta and the title.

This is spoiler-y. I just took spoilers and speculation and it made it my own.

And I don't own CSI. Which is fine, because I really think they are doing alright on their own this year(don't you think?).

On Ice

Ten – no, eleven pair of socks. Two weeks worth of boxers. If he does laundry about every week and a half, that should hold him.

The suitcase and garment bag lay across his bed, along with every bit of his cold weather clothing. She could hear Grissom in the closet – the scraping slide of each hanger removed only served to remind her of how long he'd be gone. There was a slight bitchiness in her that wanted to tell him that it would be easier if he just took it all, but she knew that would be unfair.

He needed this.

It's going to be cold. He'll need need more sweaters. And his scarf – that's in the front closet – along with his coats. And his gloves.

She knelt on the floor and began going through his chest of drawers, searching for anything he might need. A part of her fumed over having to rush this. His flight left in a couple of hours and they're spending their last moments packing.

Of course, he could have started packing when he first found out, though that would have made it a little hard to keep it from me. Sara quickly banished that line of thinking, not wanting to let her disappointment and anger take over.

I froze my ass off in Boston that first winter, who willingly goes to Providence this time of year? He's going to want his flannel pajamas.

Sara sat back and let his pajamas fall in her lap. So soft and cozy - she hadn't seen this set since last winter. He's leaving.

"You're quiet." She looked up to see him standing in front of her, arms draped with slacks and dress shirts. From her position he seemed big and strong, not like a man who was slowly breaking inside. Though she didn't have to look too deep to see that he was concerned for her, and maybe a little scared of her, too.

"I'm ... still digesting," she replied, taking her time standing up so that she could avoid eye contact for a few moments. She could already feel the tell-tale sign of tears.

"We're not on the same page, are we Gil?" Sara could tell the question startled him. It kinda startled her as well. This wasn't a conversation they could crunch to fit time and it was then that she realized there was no way for them to part today on a good note. Keeping her back to him, she placed his pajamas in the suitcase and zipped it up. He's going to need another bag.

"I really just found out yesterday. But I don't know why I didn't tell you immediately." He sounded apologetic and confused - almost as confused as she felt. She closed her eyes when she felt his arms wrap around her shoulders from behind. His hold was tight and warm, and she'd have to live without for the next few weeks. Months, maybe.

"Will you be staying here?" he asked.

"I haven't really thought about it. Probably not." Patting his arm, she gently removed herself from his grasp to retrieve his extra suitcase from under the bed. "You didn't tell me because you didn't consider me. And that's fine, because this is about you and your needs."

"But?" He sat down on the bed, stilling her hands and turning her to face him.

"We're not on the same page."

"What does that mean to you?"

The soft graze of his thumbs on her wrists were distracting. She loved him and this hurt. He was reaching out, trying to fix what they both weren't sure was broken.

"It means that if I was going to suddenly leave town because I needed a break, you would be the first to know. Not even that – I'm positive I would discuss it with you before making the decision."

"Do you want me to stay in Vegas?"

"No. I mean, of course I do. But I want you to do what you need to do, and if that means leaving..."

"I know it's hard to believe, but I did consider you. You have no idea how many decisions I've made over the years with you in consideration. I just still sometimes make the wrong choice."

All she could do was nod.

"Sara, I'm coming back. I'd like it very much if you were here when I do. Stay here."

"No. I don't want to be in your home without you," Sara replied, meeting his gaze. "And I don't want to be here if you decide other things need changing, too," she added softly.

"Sara-"

She cut him off a little too anxiously. "A lot of things have happened in the last year."

"The best things."

"I took you out of your comfort zone. I know that. I appreciate what you've had to do to make that happen. And now you're leaving – you're going across the country."

"Have I done something to make you doubt?" he asked quietly, pulling her in closer and resting his hands on her hips.

"I could tell that you were stressed." Sara raised her hands, her fingers tracing the lines on his face, trying to wipe away the exhaustion that had taken residence. "You didn't talk about it much, but you let me hold you and take care of you. Gil, it hurt me to think of times that you went through this kind of thing alone, and if we weren't together, you would also be going through this alone. Then today I hear along with everyone else that you're leaving and I felt very disconnected. Like we weren't even living the same life."

"It was sudden, but not sudden enough that I couldn't share. I should have told you."

"Maybe," she said, shrugging. "I wish you had shared it with me, but most importantly, I wish you had the need to share. I want this. I want you to want it, too."

"I do."

"This time away is your check-up from the neck-up. I guess I'm a little afraid of what you may come up with during your life evaluation and what that could mean for ... us."

He rested his head on her stomach and sighed heavily. The slump of his back and his desperate grip on her waist broke her heart. This kind of weight was something she didn't want him to leave with.

"I'm sorry. This isn't how I wanted to leave things."

"I love you," he said, raising his head and standing. "Don't apologize for telling me how you feel."

He drew her head close and kissed her deeply. Thoroughly. Though his mouth was possessive, his fingers trailed her jaw with reverence. It was then that she cried.

"I may have dragged my feet for years," he whispered between kisses, "but remember, I came to you - finally. My choice. The best choice." He pulled away and tucked his face in the cradle of her neck. "I just need to figure out how to get the rest of my life to equal the peace I feel when I'm with you."

"I love you," she whispered, her throat still constricted even though she released her tears.

"I already miss you, Sara." And he held her even tighter.