A/N: Ah, but you know their dance, don't you?..."one step forward, two steps back…"…only this time other people seem to want to cut in on our favorite couple…don't worry, though…there is a lot more music to come before this dance is finally over…vacation is amazing fun, and the extra pool time cut into my writing and posting, but I'm hopeful to post three in a row unless this wonderful guy I married has more tricks up his sleeve…your reviews are welcomed and your opinions are important though I can't get to respond to them all right now…the plan is more tomorrow…take care…Kathy

Travel and the night's activities had done him in.

So he was more than surprised when, well past the time the dawn had spread its early light, he found his arms empty and his bedsheets beside him cold.

A smile still lingered on his lips as he recalled his insanely passionate homecoming.

Hardening slightly at the memory alone, Gil's body groaned as he pulled himself from bed massaging his tight lower back muscles.

His smile deepened as his mouth released a slight guffaw as he could almost hear Sara's cheeky response of ,"That's not all that's stiff!"

Taking care of morning necessities, Gil's smile remained as he moved down the hall in search of his missing bride.

Clearing the short corridor, his investigator's gaze scanned the open-air living room/dining room space.

His smile fell as he took in the scene before him.

Sara was sprawled across their couch, uncomfortably tangled in the cotton throw she loved to spread across it.

A large bowled, empty wine glass set nearby, half of its base suspended in midair as if hastily tossed onto the wooden surface.

Gil's eyes immediately flipped towards the kitchen area and found what his heart hoped it would not find.

The counter betrayed Sara's confidence as the liter bottle of Merlot taunted him to draw his own conclusions.

She's drinking to sleep…that's her tell…she's having nightmares…she's withdrawing, doesn't want to talk about what's bothering her…just like after –

Gil moved towards his wife, troubled beyond measure as his thoughts replayed the months after that hell in the desert.

I wasn't there for her then…not like I should have been…I wanted things to be as they were…but the pain was too unbearable…she couldn't handle it…she left to save herself…it almost killed me when I lost her…

Seating himself across from her, Gil tried to calm himself.

If memory served him correctly, it would do neither of them any good if he went charging in trying to rescue this damsel from her distress.

"Hey, Sara?...you, okay?" " I don't know….this…it's just wrong…"

"What are you doing here?" "I could ask you the same thing." "THIS…isn't helping…"

"Hey…" "Okay…what's up?..." "I'm sorry…lately, I've…" "This is Sara..I'll be right there…"

His lungs fought to bring air to ease the constriction in his chest as he replayed that last memory, realizing again that was the last time he spoke to her for that long fortnight before she finally contacted him.

He had analyzed their conversations during that last month before her sudden departure, and he had realized they revealed how the two of them had become this stilted version of their former selves who could communicate with a single word or gesture.

Gil now realized that Sara needed more than that which is why their nightly SKYPE sessions had become a cornerstone of their relationship in their time living apart.

His eyes flicked down at her mumblings, and a reassuring hand moved forward intent on softly stroking her hair to ease her from the tension of her dream.

Instead, upon contact, Sara's eyes flew open as she pushed the offending hand away and screamed, "Philip!"

Gil moved back instinctively to give her space; it had been a long while since she'd had a nightmare so intense.

Hadn't it?

In the seconds until recognition bloomed in her terrified eyes, Gil realized he couldn't know that from his sequestered home-away-from-home, miles away in Peru.

He wanted to comfort her.

He needed reassurance that she wasn't sliding back into a remission of the PTSD that plagued her after –

He found himself still traumatized from that nightmare they'd somehow lived through…and if he couldn't even say the woman's name to himself…how could he expect Sara to admit it to him?

Gil looked closely at Sara who had brought her breathing under control and had pulled her legs up in her typically defensive stance.

Her gaze shied away from his questioning glare as her heart continued to pound in her chest at the still vivid dregs of terror from those unknown hands jumping out from behind her as she moved through the darkened Bellagio parking garage.

"Sara?" Gil spoke softly now, needing the comfort of holding her as much as he knew she needed the same reassurance.

Tears threatened to spill, but he could see her making a valiant attempt to hold them back.

Just like before…when I'd come home from my shift to find her sitting just like –

The parallels caused his heart to ache.

Had she really been hiding from him again?

Moving without thinking it to death, Gil slid next to her and without waiting pulled her hands from their death grip around her knees and almost yanked her onto his lap.

He had spent many lonely months reviewing again and again what he should have done when she had all but shut down on him.

Gil promised himself that if he had the chance he would do many things differently.

Now was his chance to do just that.

He didn't push her to talk, but that didn't mean he would revert to his usual silent mode either.

He had spent many months talking to her pillow in her absence, crying often and wishing he had just shared his heart with her while looking into her eyes when her head had occupied that space.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you."

His words flowed from the heart, and even he wondered if was really just talking about last night.

Sara shook her head slightly from its place in "her spot", but was not forthcoming with any other reaction.

Gil held her for a while, his mind racing at the evidence before him.

Following her DUI, Sara hadn't started drinking heavily until the month before her sudden departure that dark night.

He hadn't noticed…no, he had refused to accept what the evidence was telling him.

Wine glasses had been stacked haphazardly in their dishwasher, empty wine bottles had been clinking as he took out the recycling…had she been waiting for him to notice?

Gil pulled her closer now, his worry independently chose his course of action.

"How long has this been going on?"

Sara remained silent, but he could feel her body tense.

"Hey, sweetheart, I'm here…right here…talk to me…"

The silence in the room was deafening as after a moment he added, "Please, Sara."

She loved him so and was loathed to deny him anything.

Actually opening her mouth to speak, the familiar tones of his cell phone indicated an incoming call.

Moment broken.

Sara moved to leave her position but was surprised when his arms tightened around her.

As if the fates mocked him, his phone stopped only for hers to start invading their privacy.

Instinct had them both on the move, as they knew what the job entailed long before Sara had returned to work.

Glancing down with a frown, Gil noticed Sara's shoulders droop before her voice released clear tones, "This is Sara."

After a moment, Gil's cell interrupted the silence, and without a glance at the called ID he moved quickly towards the den while responding automatically, "Grissom."

The silence in their home continued after Sara appeased Ecklie with a promise to be there within the hour, considering he deemed it "important" that she show her face ASAP .

Sitting on the couch running her fingers through her hair, she wondered how Gil would react to her summons to some new assignment to meet with some representative from some agency.

From what she could gather, she was handpicked by the Sheriff to deal with this person.

And this person apparently had waited for hours yesterday to begin their work together – despite the fact that Catherine had told Ecklie repeatedly that Sara was not scheduled to work.

She smirked at that, her eyes rolling in the ridiculous nature of the entire affair.

What difference does it make?

A sob almost escaped as those words catapulted Sara back to the night Gil had come to her apartment seeking answers, and found himself blindsided by the graphic revelations of her childhood trauma.

It makes a difference to me.

Sara knew her nightmares bothered him; hell, their frequency over the last few weeks had alarmed her as well.

She thought she had locked up her horrors and thrown away the key.

Only it now seemed that they somehow were managing to escape.

Shaking her head in absolute refusal to let the graphic images control her life again, Sara moved towards the den fully intending to tell him about her reunion with Philip and all the worrisome events that happened while he was away.

She would share it all, and he would make it better.

Her forward movements halted abruptly just inches before the door as she spied her husband through the crack in the open door.

His back was to her yet his voice was soft and, though she had to strain for his words to be heard, for Sara the message was undeniable and crystal clear.

"No, Heather…listen…Heather…I can't right now…Sara's still home…"

Blinding pain shot through her, and Sara felt the suspicions she had carried these last few days finally had been verified.

As with all the other pain that had been inflicted upon her in her lifetime, Sara bottled up this latest crushing blow and stowed it away until she was strong enough to deal with it.

And if that time never came, then so be it.

Sara moved towards their shared bathroom and took the world's shortest shower, letting the one recalcitrant sob escape under the pounding spray.

She was almost fully dressed when her husband returned to their bedroom, surprise written on his face as he realized she was leaving.

"Sorry about that, Sara…a business call about some consulting…"

Her back was turned to him, or he would have seen the crestfallen look in reaction to his statement.

He's lying. He just lied to me.

Suddenly, the room felt stifling as she raced towards the door.

"I, uh, I gotta run…Ecklie's waiting…"

Gil fumed and stepped towards her, "Didn't you tell him it was your night off?"

When his hand touched her forearm, his prints felt as if they were searing her skin.

She needed to put some distance between them without betraying the fact that she had caught him in a barefaced lie.

Breathing deeply, she moved through the doorway to stop only long enough to gather up her keys.

"Don't know how long I'll be, so-"

She had almost made good her escape before she found herself tugged around and pressed firmly against her perplexed husband.

"Sara."

Confused as to her sudden aloofness, he sought to reassure her, to bring some comfort to her.

She closed her eyes and forced herself to relax because she knew him well enough that he wouldn't allow her to leave if she showed any sign of upset.

We're right back to where we started…

Putting on a straight face, Sara forced some semblance of normal onto her features while greedily taking in some of the comfort he was providing.

My one and only…

Yet now, she felt sure that thought was hers and hers alone.

Gil pulled her back enough to kiss her soundly, trying to send all his love and support through the firm press of his lips to hers.

He could feel her soft tremble as he pulled back and looked into her eyes.

"Wait five minutes…I could drive you."

Fearing the onslaught of tears if she didn't regain some physical space between them, Sara's response was almost too adamant.

"No! No, you stay here…do what you have to do…I'll call you when I'm done."

Gil knew better than to press her.

Besides, he could make good use of their time apart.

"Okay, then."

She managed a near-genuine smile before turning to open the door.

The image of watching her leave brought an almost incapacitating pain to his stomach.

"Sara!" he almost yelled.

She paused and turned before responding in a tone full of resignation.

"Yeah?"

"Just…take care of yourself, okay?"

"I'm fine," she answered before stalking down the driveway to her car with those historic words revealing her true state of mind.

Gil remained in the opened doorway long after she had driven the car out of sight.

His analytical mind on overdrive trying to comprehend all the details of their bizarre morning, he moved back towards the couch.

Sitting down heavily, he leaned forward and picked up the empty wine glass.

Twirling it softly between his fingers, Gil sat back slowly as he continued to regard the item as if it held some answers to his worries.

The movement halted suddenly as his gaze flitted over the rim of the glass to focus at the empty air above it.

Who is Philip?