Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: This chapter makes me all kinds of happy, so I figure it'll make my readers happy too. ...If I didn't lose them all with the last chapter's ending. :)

CSIfan3408... Was there any reason to be mean? :( This fanfiction writer loves Sara and Grissom as much as anyone! :P -mutters- telling sara... don't know what she's thinking...

:) Enjoy.

Chapter Forty Four:

I got sick that night. I don't know if it was stress, belated morning sickness, or my body reacting to the feeling of the ship being back out on open water again rather than just resting in the harbor, but I threw up most of the night. I dragged myself into the shower and into fresh clothes the next morning and went to the nurse, who gave me something to help with the nausea, because I was worried about becoming dehydrated while pregnant, but it made me drowsy.

That first day, I slept and slept for hours. Catherine checked on me in the afternoon, probably because Gil would be worried I was avoiding him, after the events of the night before. I explained and asked her to please tell both Gil and Jace that I was fine, but would probably be in bed for at least a day. Jace would have come, worried about the baby and anxious to find a way back into my good graces, but he still didn't know where my new room was. Gil did come, that evening, bearing Styrofoam containers and an apologetic smile.

"I… know they're not biodegradable, but it's all they would give me…"

I swallowed uncertainly, but stepped back, allowing him to enter. I had changed into clean pajamas after visiting the nurse, though they were wrinkled now, and I hadn't brushed my teeth since this morning… and I'd slept all day. I turned on lights in the dark cabin, turned off the old movie on the TV that I'd only half been watching while trying to fall back asleep, and went to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

When I came out, he had set up everything on the little bedside table, two containers of soup open with spoons beside them, resting on their covers, and two other containers open—one a salad, the other a turkey club with fries. He gave me a shy, embarrassed kind of smile. "I… wasn't sure what you could get down, so I brought… options."

I smiled softly and moved up close to him, hugging my gently, my forehead bent to his shoulder. "…Thank you."

His large hands hesitantly lifted to grasp my waist, hugging me back and simultaneously igniting a stream of sensual memories to come flooding into my mind's eye. I took a hesitant step back and sat on the bed, gesturing with my head that he was welcome to take the empty side. He moved around, sitting against the headboard, seeming at concerned with proximity, at first. I handed him the remote control, and without another word he turned it on and adjusted the volume, changing it from the movie I'd been watching—Gone with the Wind—to something more modern. I hadn't seen it, but I recognized most of the actors, and the plot was easy to pick up, despite having missed the beginning.

"…Did you eat?" I asked, glancing over the expanse of food he'd brought me, thinking that perhaps I should pick a soup and a meal and give him the other soup and meal.

He nodded. "With Catherine…I didn't want to make her eat alone, and I didn't think I could carry anything more." I offered him a smile and he hesitantly reached out and brushed a hair behind my ear. "…How are you feeling?"

"Better." I smiled. "The nurse said she didn't think I was sick… maybe belated morning sickness, but more likely just a reaction to heading back out to sea when I'd been used to the more subdued movements in the harbor. Tomorrow I'll stop taking the meds, see if it's any better… and if nothing else, we'll be anchored again the day after tomorrow."

I picked up the salad, noting the little containers, each with a different kind of salad dressing. I looked at them a little speculatively. Jace would have known my preference… but in the beginning of our relationship, would probably just have gone with ranch because it was the most commonly used/liked. Gil didn't know… but he hadn't been willing to say 'good enough.' Did that mean more than knowing in the first place?

I picked my dressing and ate the salad first before examining the soups—Broccoli Cheese and Tomato Basil. I closed the Tomato and slid out of bed, putting it into the mini fridge and then coming back to bed, sitting a little closer to him. We still weren't touching, but this seemed to put him at ease… make him think that he was not pushing limits by being here, after what had happened last night.

And what happened last night, let me tell you, it took everything in me to go on like nothing had happened. I hadn't felt so… alive… so right… in so very long. It wasn't just the newness of it—because the first time you get that close to someone, it's always exciting. But this was more than that… His hands on my body were smooth and soft and felt like they fit and contoured over my curves like a second skin. It was like we matched—like he was made to touch me, and only me. Honestly, once I was sharply reminded of what I was doing and what it meant… I wasn't sure if I cried because I felt guilty or because I didn't want him to go… whether I regret my actions, or regretted stopping them.

I finished half the soup and the turkey club before passing my fries to Gil and slipping back under the covers, partly because the air conditioning that had been running all day to fight the tropical temperatures had now made the room cold as the sun began to set, and partly because having a full stomach made me feel ridiculously sleepy again. I didn't mean to sleep—I kept my eyes on the movie, only glancing at him and smiling when he slid further down, so that his head was on the pillows, just a little higher than mine. I tried to keep my eyes open, but then he had rolled onto his side, his eyes no longer on the movie but on me, his left hand gently running fingertips in soothing, nonsensical patterns over my face and through my hair, feeling at once so intimate and yet so innocent. I absolutely could not keep my eyes open a minute longer…and when they closed, I felt such warmth… such peace.

I woke to the sound of my door opening and closing—he'd returned with breakfast, which was crazy, because I'd only just eaten supper. The washed-out light seeping under the blinds told me different—"I slept 'til morning?" I asked, in disbelief, frowning at the difficulty I found in speaking. He laughed softly.

"…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you." He set several more Styrofoam containers down on the bedside table and moved around the bed to sit beside me. "Go back to sleep," he said, running his fingers through my hair again. I shook my head, yawning.

"I can't… if I wake up, then I'm up. At least for a few hours."

"Come here." He said softly, and though I wasn't sure what he wanted, I moved to him without question, rolling to face him and, seeing his right arm out and up, allowed myself to be pulled in close, tucked into the crook of his arm, my body pressed up along the side of his. My eyelids fluttered closed. He was warm, and he smelled so nice. It was comforting. After a brief moment of uncertainty, I shifted, bringing my right leg over his to wrap around it, repositioned my head more comfortably, and let my hand fall square in the center of his chest.

He reached up with his left hand, the one not wrapped around me, and gently held my hand in his, and before I knew it, I was asleep again.

I woke up around mid-morning, the sound of his gentle breathing and the occasional snuffling snore sliding over me in the stillness of the room. I put off getting up for several minutes, just enjoying the proximity of him, but eventually I slid away from him, my stomach growling. He was wearing the same clothes he'd had on yesterday evening, when he'd brought me food. I frowned, thinking he must have slept here and that he couldn't have been very comfortable sleeping in clothes.

I peeked into the food containers, finding two servings of everything—he hadn't eaten, this time. I stuck the French toast into the microwave, thinking it wouldn't be amazing but would probably not be terrible either, and then took the phone as far away from him as it would reach, dialing Catherine.

"Wil—I mean, uh… Hello?"

"Catherine?"

"Sara?"

"Hi… Would you mind, um," I cringed, "bringing a fresh pair of clothes… of Gil's… to my room?" The gasp on the other end of the line had me rushing to explain. "No, no… nothing happened. He stayed here all night while I slept… taking care of me. I just… he's still in the same clothes and I thought…"

She chuckled, and I could hear the disbelief in her voice. "Okay, Sara. Sure… I can bring him some stuff. …If you're calling, he must still be asleep. Wore him out, did you?"

I felt my whole face turn red. "No, Catherine, really, I—"

"I don't want to hear all the torrid details," she teased. "I'll be over in about ten minutes…"

"Thank you," I sighed, wondering if she believed me and was teasing me, or honestly thought that we'd… I let my eyes close at the thought, but then forced them open. No. We hadn't and we… we wouldn't, so there was no reason to be thinking about it. I mean, we wouldn't. …Would we?

I hung up the phone and returned it to the bedside table and moved over to the fridge to see if there were any bottles of water left to give us something to drink—there were, but there were also four cups of milk and two cups of juice. Apparently, he'd made several trips before the last one woke me up. I smiled, pulling them out and then investigating the other food containers—two soup bowls with cereal in them, two omelets, two hash browns, six slices of bacon… He apparently thought I should be eating for three or four. The good thing was that we couldn't have been asleep for all that long, because they still felt fairly warm. I took the French toast from the microwave and replaced it with the other container and moved into the bathroom to change into something a little more presentable—because my printed pajama pants didn't exactly scream sexy.

…Not that I wanted that. I didn't. I just… I wanted my casual wear to look… modestly attractive? Still-pretty mom staying in? Yeah, I mean… that was what I was going for.

A pair of soft, black lounge pants and a comfy t-shirt—and a hair and teeth brushing—later, and I was walking out of the bathroom, feeling so much better than I had in… such a long time.

The knock at the door startled him and he sat up groggily. I opened it, frowning at the look on Catherine's face. "Hello Sara." She said, in a voice that was practically sing-song. She leaned around the corner, looking at the man's tousled curls and wrinkled clothes. "Way to go, Bugman!" I blushed and she laughed, handing me the clothes. "So, will either of you be coming out among the living today, or should I expect your new favorite activity to keeping you indoors."

"I told you, Catherine, nothing happened."

"No, I know." She said, winking at me. "Have fun, kids!" And with that, she was already moving down the maze-like hallways, away from us. I let the door close, looking over at Gil. He was running a hand over his tired face, brushing sleep from his eyes, glancing at me sheepishly.

"…I'm sorry, Sara. I didn't mean to fall asleep, here. I mean, I… I just wanted you to sleep a little longer."

I smiled and then frowned. "…You've been here all night. Didn't you sleep?"

He gave me an apprehensive half-smile. "I… moved to the chair, when I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore. I… wasn't sure about… the bed."

I passed him his clothes. "I'm not upset. You can go freshen up, and I'll make the bed and set out food. It's been microwaved, but… it should still be okay."

The smile he gave me was grateful and… nothing short of beaming. He moved into the bathroom and I got us set up, setting the Styrofoam containers on the bed on our respective sides, the milks and juices on respective bedside tables, the remote control decidedly in the middle, for sharing.

When he emerged, I turned to look at caught my breath in my throat—he was shirtless. The last time I'd seen that chest, it had been above me, soft and smooth, the light layer of hair there encouraging exploration, while his hands moved over my abdomen, his lips and tongue—"Uh, you wouldn't… happen to have a large… t-shirt… I could wear?" He asked, interrupting my daydreams. "Catherine gave me this shirt she bought on the island the other day for me, but…"

He held it up. It said 'Please don't just use me for my giant…' with a large caterpillar crawling along the bottom, obscuring the dirty word. I giggled and he sighed dramatically. "She thinks she's being funny…"

I grinned. "It's kind of funny… I mean, you know, of all the animals that could cover the word… a rooster for the obvious, or even… a snake?" I giggled again. "But a cute little caterpillar? I mean, it's funny because you like bugs, but it's also funny because it implies…"

"Well, it's incorrect, in that implication, thank you very much." He said, his ears turning red. I felt heat flood my face and I had to bite my bottom lip to keep the words 'prove it' from slipping out. I swallowed and cleared my throat, moving over to my suitcase.

"I think I have a SFCL one that was too big for me…" I snatched it out and passed it to him, watching him pull it over his head to obscure the lines of his chest that had triggered such vivid memories. Was I crazy, thinking that I would never let myself touch him, like that? Never give in and be intimate with the only man who had ever made me feel so… complete? I cleared my throat again, looking decidedly away. "Well, uh… Should we eat?"