Grissom lingered in the doorway and watched, mesmerised at the sight of his seven-month pregnant wife lying in the tub. The changes that had taken place in her during his absence were remarkable and only served to validate his decision not to go away for any length of time again. He could see it so clearly now, how much she had grown and matured, physically of course, but also emotionally.

She looked peaceful, tranquil even, with her eyes closed and her head thrown back against the edge of the tub, as she slowly rubbed a lazy, protective hand back and forth over her rounded stomach. The soft, wistful smile on her face told him she was thinking about the baby growing inside her, that she was already bonding with it, and that made him feel a little sad and sidelined.

Sara was his wife, his companion, but now she was also the mother of their unborn child. Her role in their relationship had shifted and he hadn't been there to see it happen. She was a mother, carrying his child, and yet she was also the object of his sexual desire. How did one reconcile the two, he wondered?

She was so beautiful, so desirable in that unguarded moment that he was loath to break it. He looked down at himself, clad only in pyjama bottoms, fresh out of the shower, and pinched his lips, chastising himself for what he knew to be an involuntary, most natural reaction. When he glanced back up Sara was watching him. Her expression was serious now, her eyes dark with unconcealed desire that he knew mirrored his own.

He swallowed and eyes locked to hers pushed off the doorframe, silently closing the distance to her before kneeling down by the edge of the tub. He smiled, and touched the fingers of his right hand to her face, stroking around her right eye, at the dark circles under it. His gaze left her face trailing down her neck to her breasts, two pale islands floating in the water. Her nipples were so much darker now, so much bigger too as they stood pert and inviting.

He lowered his hand to them, a tentative caress of his fingertips before withdrawing hesitantly, and brought his eyes back to her face. Was it okay to still touch her, to still want her in a sexual manner now that the baby was so clearly there, he wondered? The soft and perceptive smile on her face as she stared back at him, as if knowing exactly what was going though his mind was answer enough, but still he wasn't sure.

"How's your back?" he asked tenderly.

"Better," she replied. "Hot water always helps." Her face brightened suddenly, and she lifted her hand off her belly, reaching for his on the rim of the tub and placing it where hers had just been. "Feel," she said in a wondrous whisper, pressing down on her stomach with their joined hands.

Grissom's eyes narrowed uncertainly, then widened in amazement as he felt the baby squirm. The smile that formed on his face was one of pure enchantment and he watched, transfixed and awestruck, the surface of her skin distort and ripple as the baby moved within her. An elbow, or maybe a foot, or a knee, he figured. His eyes lifted to her face, wide and incredulous. He had no words to describe how he was feeling at that moment.

"She's awake," Sara said.

"She?" he challenged with a rise of his brow, just as he felt another, stronger kick under his hand. His head whipped back to her belly, his heart quickening with excitement. "Oh, my god, Sara! You said on the phone you could feel the baby move, see it move, but I thought you were talking of flutterings. I never could have imagined…" He trailed off with a disbelieving shake of the head.

Her hand lifted off his on her stomach to his cheek, gently turning his face toward her, and rising up out of the water she pressed a kiss to his lips. "We're going to be parents, Gil," she said, mirroring his anticipation.

"We already are parents," he amended, his tone more sedate now, and gave a wistful sigh.

Staring at him, Sara gave a grave nod, then lowered her gaze to her stomach and stroked her hand to its side before looking back up to him. "This baby is the most beautiful gift you could ever give me, Gil. Thank you."

Grissom's face softened with love. "Oh, Sara, just to see you like this it's…" he shrugged, "I can't express what I'm feeling right now, how overwhelmed, how honoured you make me." He paused and stared at her, hoping that he could convey what he couldn't with words through his expression, then reached over for a flannel which he dipped in the water. "May I wash you?" he then asked uncertainly, lifting his eyes back to her face as he wrung out the cloth.

Sara's mouth opened in a silent gasp of surprise then closed as nodding her reply she closed her eyes and turned her face slightly away, offering her neck to him. After lightly soaping the washcloth he gently began running it over her skin. Small circular patterns that started at the long line of her neck before slowly working downward to her shoulders and arms, then her breasts and over every inch of her stomach down to her nether regions.

Her legs, bent at the knees, parted slightly at the touch, causing his hand to drop lower and the breath to catch in his chest. He felt a twitching inside his pants, the familiar longing growing deep inside him. Sara repressed a shiver, goose bumps suddenly popping over her body and, his hand stilling, he stole a glance at her face. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes closed and her breath coming out in short pants though parted lips and he felt her move deeper into the water as she sought his touch. Her pleasure at his ministrations was evident and yet Grissom couldn't make himself go further.

"Don't stop," she said in a pleading whisper, and he knew exactly what she was asking and normally he would have been more than happy to oblige. Her eyes when she opened them were dark with desire, desire he knew he clearly mirrored, but with a hard swallow he made himself pull his hand and gaze away.

"The water's cold," he argued weakly, pushing to his feet and pulling the towel from the rail, "You should come out."

Sara paused and stared at him for a moment before nodding her head and holding out her hand to him. Gripping it tightly, Grissom helped her up to her feet, tepid water cascading down the length of her body as she stood, flowing over the brim of the tub. He ran his eyes over her glistening body before bringing them back up to her face as she stepped out of the bath. Seeing her like this did nothing to diminish his ardour. Quickly, he draped the towel over her shoulders and began gently rubbing her dry before unhooking her old, flowery silk robe from the back of the door.

"You want some breakfast?" he asked, helping her into her robe, too small now to fit around her waist.

Smiling she shook her head and took his hand in hers, tugging him backward out of the room. "Let's go to bed," she said, taking the initiative. The yearning still present in her gaze told him she wasn't tired, and dumbstruck he gave her a nod.

Silently, Sara led him to their bed, turning him around so that his back was to it, and pushed him down into a sitting position. His legs parted of their own accord, and she stepped between them, her body tantalisingly close, yet not touching his. Eyes locked to hers, he reached up and stroked his hands over her stomach before bringing them to her breasts and kneading the soft flesh. Maybe he could reconcile the wife/mother dilemma after all, he thought. Maybe he could just pretend the baby wasn't there.

Closing his eyes at the rush of arousal surging through him he sat up straighter, slipped his hands underneath her open robe and pulling her to him brought his mouth to her breasts, in turn kissing, licking and teasing around one nipple and then the other. The moan that escaped Sara's mouth was low and needy. They didn't have to go all the way, he figured, maybe they could just take care of each other's needs separately.

Sara wriggled her shoulders free of the robe, letting it fall to the floor and lifted her hands to the back of his head, pressing him harder to her. "It's okay to do this," she said, breathless, and gently pulled his face away from her breasts. They stared at each other for a moment. Then, Sara gave him a soft, uncertain smile, and when he nodded his head that he was ready she pushed him back onto the bed. Holding his gaze she traced feather-light fingertips down the length of his chest to his navel, and when his stomach muscles contracted at her touch slipped them under the elasticated waistband of his pyjama bottoms.

His eyes drifted shut and he took a sharp intake of breath as stroking him she eased his pants down before clambering on the bed beside him. Grissom turned onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow, watching her. His free hand came up to her face, pushing a lock of hair away from her eyes while hers brushed along his cheek and jaw.

"Make love to me, Gil," she said, and leaned in toward him, their lips meeting in a slow, tender kiss at first which soon deepened more urgently. His hands began the familiar exploratory trip downward, and he felt the baby move. His body tensed up and breathing hard he pulled back from her.

"What's wrong?" she asked with puzzlement.

Pinching his lips he rolled onto his back, pulled his pyjama pants back up to his waist and stared at the ceiling. He felt the mattress dip as Sara shifted. He turned his head, looking over at her watching him. "Honey, I'm sorry," he said, reaching across to brush more hair away from her eyes. "I want to. I really do, but I don't think I can." He paused and shook his head. "It's the baby…I feel like…I know it's going to sound silly and totally irrational but…I feel like it knows what's happening. Worse than that, it's like the baby's watching me."

Sara's lips pinched together tight but she couldn't prevent a snort of laughter from escaping.

"I'm glad you're finding it funny," he said in a little mock-aggrieved pout, and sighed.

Her smile was wide and teasing but she didn't laugh. She rolled onto her side and draped her arm over his chest, snuggling close to him, while he slipped his arm under her shoulders, holding her to him. Closing his eyes he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"It's normal to be feeling the way you do, confused and a little reticent," she said after a moment, looking up at him, "But there's no way on earth the baby can know what's happening. It's just…not possible."

"I know that," he argued.

She paused and studied him, then caught her bottom lip between her teeth in that seductive come-hither look she knew he could never resist. "What if you don't look? What if you…close your eyes, or look toward the wall?" she asked, and he couldn't help smiling at the slightly desperate edge in her voice.

"I tried that."

Her lips twitched in amusement. "I read about this," she said, musingly.

"You did?" He sounded unconvinced.

She mumbled her acquiescence. "In my book."

"And what does the book say?"

Sara gave a shrug. "It says not to force the issue, that the 'block' is most likely temporary. That dad," she said miming quote marks, "just needs a little time to adjust. I read that it's normal for sex drives to go up and down like a yo-yo during pregnancy. Mine, or yours."

"Oh, my sex drive is perfectly fine," he said, resolutely.

She smiled at his tetchiness. Her hand lifted to his face and she trailed a lazy finger down his bearded cheek to the corner of his mouth and over his lips. His mouth opened, kissing at her fingers. "We've made love while I was pregnant before, though. It never bothered you. What's changed?"

"What's changed?" he asked with disbelief, and reached down his hand, curving it over her softly rounded belly. "I felt the baby move, Sara, that's what's changed. Before that…I could pretend it wasn't there. Now, not so much." He took in and let out a deep breath and turned onto his side, facing her. "There's a baby in there, Sara. Our baby. I can't believe how much you've grown, how much difference four weeks have made." His expression brightened. "I've made a decision. I―this last trip was my last. I don't want to be away from you or the baby anymore. I don't want to miss any more of it. Maybe then, seeing you so big wouldn't have been such a shock and we wouldn't be having this block now."

"Big?" Sara challenged with a narrowed eyes. "Did you just call me big?"

His eyes lit up with mischief. "I love you," he professed earnestly. "You know that, don't you?"

Sara's face softened with a smile and she nodded. "And we love you too," she said, teasing.

He gave a chuckle. "I promise that from now on I'm there, to see you and him grow."

"Him?" she said, laughing.

His face became tender, his smile thoughtful. "Or her."

Sara shifted out of his embrace, then reached across him to the bedside table and picked up the ultrasound picture of the baby she had propped up against the bedside lamp. A soft smile on her face she reached for a pillow which she placed under their heads, then resumed her spot in his arms. She lifted the picture so they could both look at it and stroked her fingers to it.

"I think we're having a little girl, Gil," she said, and looked over at him. Her expression was solemn, but her eyes shone with unconcealed happiness, and he knew she was no longer teasing.

Grissom made a face. "You think, or you know?" he demanded, suspicious, narrowing his eyes at the grainy picture.

She pushed up on one elbow, meeting his eyes dead on, and kissed him softly on the lips. "I promised I wouldn't ask and I didn't," she said, holding his gaze, "But I think it's a she."

Grissom folded an arm under his head and fixed his eyes on the ceiling. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for the sonogram," he said, his tone on the forlorn side.

"You were."

He turned toward her. "On the other end of the phone doesn't count."

"You were there for the first two," she said, her left hand moving to his chest, fingers threading through the grey hair there. "This one was no different, and you heard all there was to say. Everything's fine and progressing as it should."

He gave a nod. "What?" he asked, drawing the syllable out and a smile forming on noticing the sudden twinkle in her eyes.

"I've a surprise for you," she said. "I was going to keep it for later, but―" He watched with a frown on his face as she pushed off him and off the bed, then reached for her robe on the floor and, pulling it on, indicated with a jerk of the head that he should come with her.

"What is it?" he asked, puzzled, as he got up.

An enigmatic smile to her lips Sara took his hand and led him out of the bedroom down the corridor. The door to the spare room was open a crack and Sara motioned with her head that he should go ahead and open it. Grissom stared at her uncertainly before hesitantly pushing the door and stepping in. The curtains were drawn open, sunlight flooding the room.

"Oh, Sara, it's…beautiful," he said, eyes scanning every inch of the room she'd painstakingly painted a pale yellow. The old baby crib they'd bought second hand from a yard sale still stood in one corner, untouched and needing a lot of TLC and a fresh lick of paint.

"I thought you could do the crib," she said, hopeful.

Surprised, he turned toward her and nodded his head with a smile, then flicked his gaze back to the room. "I can't believe how much you've done!"

"You did all the hard work, clearing the room. Besides…I had a lot of time on my hands with you away and everything." There was a pause. "So, you like it then…the colour, I mean. I know you liked the green too."

He looked over at her and met her hesitant gaze. "Honey, I love it." He reached for her hand, bringing it to his lips. "It's…perfect."

Sara's smile was soft and very loving. "Your mother came round," she then said, gently tugging him over to the crib, "and brought this."

He dropped her hand to pick up the white crocheted baby blanket hanging over the edge of the crib. "It was mine," he said, turning incredulous eyes toward her.

"I know. She said it was the only thing she had left of when you were a baby."

He put the blanket down. "I don't know what to say, Sara. You just blow me away."

A smile of mischief pulling at her lips she nodded her head to the door. "Come on," she said, taking his hand, "let's get back to bed."

He lay down behind her in a spoon under the bed sheet and pulling her to him, snuggled his face in the crook of her shoulder before draping his arm around her, his hand involuntarily falling onto her naked breast. She liked to sleep in the nude these days, prone as she was to sudden body temperature rises. Or so she'd claimed. His body stirred, as he knew it would, and he tensed a little around her.

"Just let's go to sleep," she said, and yawned.

"Let's," he said, and closed his eyes. But sleep didn't come, for neither of them. "I was thinking about what you said," he said a short while later, pressing his lips to the soft spot directly behind her ear that he knew she favoured. As expected, Sara repressed a shiver, and smiling he inched a little closer to her, keeping his lips tantalisingly close to her skin and his erection nestled against the small of her back.

Sara made a sound, a low moan of pleasure as writhing she sank deeper into the mattress. When he began to trail kisses down her neck to her shoulder and his hand slid from her breast to her hip and upper thigh, stroking and teasing near her sex, Sara half-turned, her mouth seeking his and her body his touch.

His smile broadened at the response. "Keep your back to me," he instructed in a firm whisper, "I think that way I can make it work."