A/N: Sorry for confusing some by not putting in "breaks" as we change stories-we put them in and they disappeared! So trying something different. Enjoy-

Being Here Chapter 10

Sara heard "mother" and bounded out of bed, running into the small bathroom in seconds without thinking of clothes or the jumble of bedcovers and clothing scattered around the room. She stepped into the shower before the water warmed, laughing at herself and wishing she could see what was happening at the door.

Grissom had not bothered with a shirt and opening the door, gusting cold wind hit his chest causing chills and a shiver. His mother was signing so fast he understood very little; he said "Come inside," motioning for her to enter the room, easily seeing she was upset.

"It's cold," she signed. "It's cold in my room. The heat is not working."

Clearly, she was distressed. "Sit—Sara's in the shower." Grissom spoke as he signed. He took her hands in his. "You are cold," he said, then signed "stay here, I'll go check your heat" and pointing to the unit in their room, signed: "Our heat works well." He got up, tapped on the bathroom door, before cracking it open.

"Sara, Sara—the heat isn't working in Mom's room. I'm going to check it."

Sara's head appeared from behind the shower curtain. "Get my clothes in here, stud muffin—I know the entire room smells of sex!" She grabbed a towel and purposefully splashed him with water. He disappeared for a few minutes, returning with pants and shirt. "Underwear?" She asked. He disappeared again, returned with panties and a pleased smirk on his face.

He whispered, "The wind blew the smell of sex out the door—now the entire park knows you were in here having wild, passionate sex and all the animals in the park will be getting' some tonight!" He ducked as she flipped a damp towel in his direction. A few minutes later, he left his mother sitting on the edge of a messy bed to go to her room.

When Sara stepped from the bathroom, Betty immediately signed "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. The light was on when I knocked. I thought I could start the heater without disturbing you."

Seeing how anxious her mother-in-law appeared, Sara smiled, overcoming her own embarrassed mortification. "Tea," she signed. "We need tea" and went about filling the pot and setting cups out for hot beverages. While the water heated, she rearranged belongings, cleared the small table and one chair and cranked the heater up another notch.

The heat did not work; nothing but cold air blew from vents. Grissom called the front desk and a young woman arrived in minutes. The heat didn't work for her either. She called maintenance who promised to arrive within ten minutes. Grissom stayed in the room, pacing to keep warm, until two men arrived. And it did not work for them. They pulled the front off the heater, finding nothing to indicate why it wasn't working. They discussed the age of the heater, the need to dismantle the unit, and finally called the front desk and asked if another room was available.

"There's not another room—we don't like to use them, but we do have a space heater," one man said. "If it's just you in here, it shouldn't be a problem and housekeeping can bring more blankets."

Grissom did not have to think before shaking his head. "This is my mother's room—she can stay in our room tonight." He began to pack her suitcase with the few items she had left on the countertop. He grinned as he thought about the appearance of their room—it did look like a cyclone had hit it. He hurried with packing; he had been gone for nearly an hour.

He was greeted with "There you are," from his wife, appearing much happier than when he left her, and a relaxed, delighted smile on the face of his mother. He kissed Sara and then leaned to kiss Betty's forehead. He noticed the empty cups and the improved appearance of the room.

"The heater can not be repaired tonight," he signed as he spoke. "So I brought your things and you can sleep here tonight." When Betty started to protest, he brought his right hand to his left palm.

"We'll be fine," he signed, glancing at Sara. She nodded her head and reached for Betty's hand; his first thought was how cute his wife looked with her hair curling all over her head.

He placed his mother's suitcase on a chair, helped set her toiletries in the bathroom, and hung her clothes on the rack. In a few minutes, she disappeared into the bathroom to change.

When the door closed, Sara nervously paced, saying, "Gil! We have had sex on both of these beds! Your mother is going to think I'm some wild sex crazed woman who can't keep my knees together for one night!" He watched and laughed as her long steps meant she took only two or three before turning around. "Help me—quickly—she can sleep in this one." She hurriedly smooth covers on the bed they had slept in the first night.

"Don't they change sheets every day?" He asked as he helped by plumping a pillow.

The look on her face was priceless—one of exasperated humor and provoked irritation. "This is a national park, dear. Not Vegas—conservation, save water, save the environment—sleep on the same sheets!" She held up a small green card on the bedside table just as Betty opened the door.

Grissom smiled; so did Sara as she tried to hide what she knew to be a guilty look—or an embarrassed one. But they quickly settled into beds and Sara stifled a giggle as she watched Betty's preparations for sleep. The older woman wore tailored pajamas, buttoned to the neck. She smelled of facial cream and had old-fashion pins in her hair and when she got in bed, she slipped underneath covers barely creating a wrinkle. Sara remembered she had once had very similar habits when she slept alone.

The snuggling warm body next to her had changed a lot of things in her life. She reached to flip off the light and Betty got her attention with a tap on the table.

"It has been a long time since I've slept in a room with others," she signed. A cheerful smile wreathed her face as she continued, "It's been many, many years since Gil and I slept in the same room."

Smiling, Sara asked her the occasion.

Betty nodded. "He was thirteen," she signed. "He wanted to go to the mountains. We drove to Mount Shasta and stayed three days in a motel. And he picked up fifty pounds of rocks." Her laughter bubbled as she exaggerated her face and signed "heavy" with her hands dropping twice.

Grissom's head lifted from his pillow. "What are you two talking about?" he groused. His arm wrapped around Sara as he dropped his head, mumbling, "Man can't get any sleep with you two around."

Sara laughed and placed a hand on his back, rubbing across his shoulders then into his hair. She looked at Betty who smiled at the sight. She signed, "You love him very much." She paused and Sara knew her mother-in-law was forming a sentence so she would understand sign language. Slowly, Betty signed, "It gives me great comfort and pleasure to know you enjoy each other." With that the older woman mouthed "Good night" and lay against her pillow, adjusting covers neatly.

Sara switched off the light and nestled beside Grissom. He mumbled, "Did you two finish your conversation?"

"Yeah," Sara whispered. "I think she might like me a little better—and she knows we have lots of sex."

Grissom nuzzled her neck. "I love you, Sara." He scooted his groin against her thigh.

Sara giggled. "Down, boy—nothing else is happening in this room tonight!"

He made a sound somewhere between a grumble and a chuckle, pulling her closer, and burying his face against her shoulder. Within minutes, he was asleep.

In Las Vegas:

Lance Delridge found wooing the girls of Vegas pathetically easy. He offered dinner at small, out-of-the-way restaurants which served some of the best food in town. He stopped and bought flowers on their first date and for the next week, he would send more flowers, the finest candies, good books if his attention extended past one date. Even with a mistress, he occasionally needed variety and he wasn't interested in prostitutes. He wasn't always interested in sex, just the ability to conquer and control another person if only for a few hours.

Nicola knew during their first dinner he was weaving a web with affection touches, polite and interested responses to her comments, anxious to please as he drove around the city telling her stories of old Vegas and plans for future growth. She flirted and laughed and placed her hand on his arm but by early morning, before the sun came up, he drove to her shared apartment and left with a promise of another date.

Sweeping her long hair into a ponytail, Nicola poured a glass of milk and ate cookies as she opened her laptop. Dear old Lance had plenty of money, she knew from a simple search. She was certain she was not the first girl he had chosen to shower with his attention and now, she searched for his wife. Dozens of images covered the screen as she scrolled down—a few showed the couple together, but most showed a well-dressed, slim woman with dark hair, a bit haughty in her expression even when she smiled. Nicola felt no concern for the woman. Richly clothed, expensive house, showing up for charity events was not part of the life of women in Nicola's family and, as she ate her last cookie and drained her glass, she closed the images of this woman and thought about her own future. The hair salon of her dreams might be closer to reality than she had thought a few days ago.

Delridge headed to the house on San Francisco Street; he knew it was ready for a new occupant and he thought he had found her. Nicola wanted to save money for some business opportunity—he would offer her a way to save. He let himself into the small house, smelled new paint and carpet, checked the new appliances, opened closets and cabinets, finding everything as he had ordered. Furniture would come later—he knew how women loved selecting furniture. He would wait at least a week before suggesting a visit to the house. He stepped into the second bedroom; the 'decorations' had been removed and stored in the small building in the back yard, but it would not be long, he was certain.

He grunted and raked a hand through his hair. He wished he had a place to go where he could enjoy a party—a party of two. The last house he frequented, where he had learned certain techniques and practices before setting up his own room, had closed several years ago much to the dismay of its clientele. Briefly, he thought of the dark-haired beauty who ran the place and wonder what had happened to the mysterious business woman. He had paid for several private sessions with Lady Heather and found her one of the most intriguing, exciting people he had ever met. He shrugged his shoulders and locked the front door; he needed some sleep before showing up at his own business later today. His red-haired Nicola was likely a quick learner and, if money was what she wanted, she would get it. Not a million dollars, he chuckled, but he would give her money.

A/N: Ahhh-a mention of Lady Heather! Love hearing your comments! So, please, review!