She was drunk and she was in his bed. Alone, mind you, because Gil Grissom is not like that. Part of him found comfort that she was there... at least he knew where she was. If he'd known she was drunk and out there somewhere, it would have made it impossible to sleep. Not that he was going to sleep now that she was here, but that was beside the point.

He was sitting in his living room on the little couch that he had owned for God knows how long, the newspaper folded in his lap, open to the crossword. It was nearly finished, and he was getting closer with each passing minute. It wasn't his usual, advanced-level crossword, so he was breezing through it.

And he would have finished it, had he not heard... well, he didn't know what it was, but he heard something coming from his bedroom. She had seemed to be out cold, so mere reflex made him rise slowly and glance to his kit, inside which was his gun.

He cracked the door to his bedroom just slightly, and immediatly, the adrenaline slowed and he relaxed. She had been tossing and turning- that was all he'd heard. Chuckling softly at himself, Grissom turned away to go back to the crossword, and then he heard her voice, deep and throaty, beginning to mutter.

"She didn't mean to... I don't want to leave her... She's always been afraid of being alone."

Blue eyes narrowing, he slowly slid the door open and poked his head inside, squinting at her. Dark hair was thrown into her face, and he had the strongest urge to go over and brush it aside.

"It wasn't her fault... She was pr-..."Her lips continued to move, and a single eyebrow raised slightly on Grissom's forehead. Silent, he moved into the room entirely and shut the door behind him. A few slow steps brought him closer to the hotel bed, and he jumped about a mile when she suddenly threw her weight so she was laying on her side, and her fingers clamped on the pillow tightly.

He should have woken her, but the scientist in him had taken over. He wanted to know her... wanted to study her... and she was vulnerable like this. It wasn't fair, he knew, but he couldn't resist. He wanted to know all about Sara Sidle.

"Please don't take her away! She needs me! I protect her!" Now it had escalated to shouting, and he needed to calm her before the neighbors complained.

Hurrying over to her, he sank onto the edge of the bed, indulging the want to brush the hair from her face. "Sara, shh. It's okay. Calm down, Sara." He muttered, but it only seemed to agitate her more.

"She needs me!" Her hands shot out at him abruptly and she latched onto his shirt, as though trying to throw him away. "Let me go! Leave us alone!"

"Sara, please!" He hissed, grabbing at her hands. "Wake up, Sara, you're having a nightmare. It's alright, just wake up and everything will be alright." He stroked her fingers slowly, noticing that they were freezing. "Shh, you're okay..." She seemed to be relaxing, and her fingers released his shirt. He set her hands against the mattress and rose, staring down at her in silence.

Slowly, her face went back to as close to relaxed as he thought it could get, and he went to turn, but saw the corners of her lips twitch into a smile, and a content smile left her throat.

"Your hands have always been so warm, Grissom." She whispered, and there was the soft exhale of her falling back asleep before he could answer. Gil could only smile at her sleeping form, then go back out to the living room.

He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, sunlight was in his face, and he was sprawled on the couch. He yawned, stretched, and stood slowly, rubbing at the back of his neck. Making his way slowly toward his bedroom, he reached out for the doorknob, but didn't open the door.

He didn't have to see the empty bed to know that she was gone.


I'll be honest. NO idea where the hecks this came from. I just started typing, and this came out. Threw it together in, like, ten minutes, so don't hate.

As of now, I don't plan on there being more. This is just a little... thing... -shrug-