A/N – Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow. There's lots of it around here. I hope you like the chapter. Sorry it's so short. I'd actually written quite a bit of the case file into it, then realized I really didn't like it, so nuked it. Ah well… try again tomorrow, I guess.

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Standing in the doorway of the guest bedroom, Grissom watched Sara laying asleep, sprawled out on the comforter with a light blanket overlaying her, and Nick lightly snoring, propped up against the headboard. The young CSI had an obviously firm grip on his wife's hand.

The light touch and gentle shake on his shoulder woke Nick from his uneasy slumber. Opening his eyes, he met Grissom's and grimaced. Looking over at Sara, he eased his hand from hers, and quietly ambled to the hall. His voice low, he murmured, "She's finally sleeping, but I don't know for how long." With a glance at his watch, noting how late in the day it was, he groaned.

"Did she make it to her appointment?" Grissom asked, uncomfortable to be speaking with anyone about Sara's personal information.

"Yeah," Nick said, hesitantly. To say he was anxious in the current situation would have been the understatement of the year. His back and neck ached from the position he'd placed himself in and held for the last hour. On top of that, he had been laying in bed with his boss's wife – perhaps innocently, but highly unnerving with the boss watching. It was strange that someone he still flirted with had married the man Nick had been trying to impress and not disappoint for years.

"She had a nightmare," Nick stated, searching Grissom's eyes, seeing the recognition of a common event. "She has them often," he stated. Nick made his way to the front door, before Grissom halted him.

"Thanks, Nick," he offered, his face set in its usual detached manner, but his eyes saying more than enough. "I'll see you tonight."

Laying out next to Sara on the bed, Grissom smiled, when she turned over in her sleep, flopped an arm over his waist, and lay her head under his chin. Smiling, she murmured, "I'm glad you're home." Lifting her head, the clouded brown eyes groggily asked, "Can we go to our bed now?"

Guiding her slowly down the hall, a hand around her waist, they made it to their room and bed, barely undressing. As she curled into him, he whispered into her ear, "She walks in beauty, like the night / Of cloudless climes and starry skies; / And all that's best of dark and bright / Meet in her aspect and her eyes/ Thus mellow'd to that tender light / Which heaven to gaudy day denies."

Closing his eyes, his face blank, he wished yet again that he knew how to give his own words. They always seemed so far from his tongue, it bewildered him when they would suddenly appear on rare occasions, and frustrated him when they refused to come from his lips when he needed them most.

He woke her for shift, stroking his fingers through the dark strands of hair. Turning her head, she smiled up at him. "Hey," she whispered.

"Hey," he replied a few hours later, leaning down to kiss her fully awake.

"Mmmmmmm," she stretched, still tired, but fairly well awake. Rolling into him, they wrapped arms around each other, and she sighed, her breath rolling like a caress across his skin. "G'mornin'."

"How are you feeling?" he asked, eyes closed, her cheek against his.

The lack of reply had him pulling back and looking in her sober eyes, and she told him, "Dr. Granger wants me to keep a journal throughout the day. When I wake up with a nightmare, I'm to write that down, as well. I can't try and sleep – I have to make sure I get down the details."

Feeling his eyes on her, she murmured, "Nick knows." She knew Gil would comprehend the true meaning behind her words.

Letting out a pent up breath, he whispered it through her hair, "Is it okay that he knows?"

"It's not like I had much choice in it – I'm surprised I didn't break a rib when I kicked him," she murmured, then told him about the nightmare that woke her and Nick from their slumber on the couch.

Leaning in, he replied, "You can hurt me anytime you want, dear," and smiled at her chuckle. Sighing, he added, "But I'm afraid it's time to get ready for work now." Neither moved for awhile, but succumbed to greed in stealing another moment.

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The poem is by Lord Byron.

A/N – Okay… so, is the end of this chapter a little better?