Chapter 52

Two hours later, Grissom looked up from the stack of newspapers he was plodding through and saw Sara standing in the doorway – fully clothed, to his disappointment. "Done reading?" he asked.

"Yeah, for today. This book is so depressing, I can only take one chunk at a time. If I read any farther tonight you'll be putting teabags on my eyes instead of ice on my back."

Grissom had no idea what teabags were supposed to do to one's eyes, but he nodded as though he understood. "Speaking of which, how's the back?"

She shrugged. "Still bright purple, but thankfully more numb than it was when I got here. What about you? Anything good happening in the news today?"

He shook his head. "War, economic recession . . . We should just be thankful that no matter what happens to the economy, people keep killing and robbing each other. Well, thankful in a twisted sort of way."

Sara raised an eyebrow. "Riiight . . . I'll keep that happy thought in mind. Well anyway, I came in here to let you know that I'm gonna go to bed in a few minutes."

"You? Going to bed before me? What's wrong with this picture?"

She shook her head, "Dunno. I'm just tired, is all. Remember that recovering from a hangover plays hell with the human body. Let me just tell you, my abs are killing me." She grinned. "Or, as you would say, my abdominal musculature is weakened by the repeated spasming caused by ingestion of large amounts of a toxic depressant."

He laughed. "You're learning. Pretty soon I'll have you talking like me and intimidating everyone around you."

"Like I don't intimidate everyone now?"

"Hmm, good point. But this way you can intimidate people with your intellectual speech and not your ability to beat them into the ground."

Sara giggled. "But it's so much fun to be able to beat up guys who think they're tough! Nick still thinks he could take me if we actually had a wrestling match."

"Aw Sara, leave the poor guy alone. He needs to recover from the last time you smacked him around!"

"I didn't smack, I punched. His arm. Not exactly a death blow." She shrugged a careless shoulder. "He'll survive, though I don't know about his ego. Now, can we go to sleep?"

Grissom shook his head. "You go ahead. I'm going to finish reading these, I'll be in in a few minutes." Sara nodded and headed for the bedroom, wiping a fist at her eyes like a sleepy child.

He finished the last paper ten minutes later. No news that hadn't been in the other four papers he'd read today. Tucking the pile neatly into his recycling bin, he smiled. Sara was in his bed, comfortable and asleep. A warm body for him to hold – but then, Sara's body wasn't just any body. Oh, she was beautiful, absolutely, but somehow she managed to be more than the sum of her parts. Yes, she was willowy and yes, her dark hair perfectly complimented her pale skin. And, well, all her body parts were put together very nicely indeed. But it wasn't the thought of a willowy brunette sharing his bed that made him want to click his heels; it was the knowledge that the woman in his bed was the only woman he'd ever been comfortable sharing a bed with.

Grissom hadn't had many relationships that progressed to the bedroom; Catherine had been right when she said that in fifteen years there had been only three women who could have been considered his 'girlfriend.' He hadn't slept with Terri; she'd broken it off long before things would have progressed to that point. But Heather? He didn't even want to think of that night, now that he knew how hurt Sara had been by it. But the truth was that yes, he'd spent the day in her house of horrors. In bed with her. Listening to the screams of her patrons all the while.

He liked Heather, he honestly did. She was an intelligent woman who'd found a niche market and made a very good living in it. But she wasn't for him, and he was pretty sure both of them had realized it when he hadn't been able to trust her the next day. Actually, he knew that he had realized it earlier than that – he'd realized it when he lay in her bed fighting the urge to run away from what he'd done, to curl up as close to the edge of the bed as possible, to cover his ears to block out the sounds.

And now there was Sara. More determined than Terri, more innocent than Heather. Sara still had the youthful sheen of idealism in her eyes, and he suspected that she would never lose it. Sara, who wouldn't stop until everything in her world was perfect. Until she was perfect. Who would cry in his arms when she hit a wall that she couldn't break through. Who had made friends with his pet tarantula – he smiled slightly at that memory. Sara, who was asleep in his bed right now, no doubt curled into a ball wearing his clothes, as she usually was lately.

And he wanted to be in the bed with her. That had never happened before. The women he spent time with had always needed him much more than he needed them. He enjoyed their company, yes, but most of the time he simply wanted his personal space back. He wanted to sleep in his own bed, alone, without someone hogging the blankets. Read his journals without someone hanging over his shoulder, asking him what an "ALS" was.  Unwind after work in his own slow way and not have to entertain someone who hadn't spent the night trying to help dead children and beaten wives.

Sara did none of this. She was as independent as he, she could discuss things like abdominal musculature without having to ask him what the big words meant, and she could comfort him from across the room after a hard night, just by looking at him with empathetic eyes. And he loved her for it, more than he could have believed.

As he entered his bedroom, he couldn't help but watch her. Her face was relaxed, as it had been the last time he watched her sleep. A naked shoulder peeked out from under the covers, with just the edge of the ugly bruise on her back showing. He didn't like to think of Sara being hurt, even in such a slight way

He shook himself from his reverie and undressed, never taking his eyes off of her. He wanted to see this every day – wanted to see her every day. Slipping under the covers, he wrapped an arm around her waist and hugged her to him. Sara turned over, eyes still closed, and muttered something that sounded like, "Hi, Grissom." She was probably still asleep, but he couldn't help responding. "Hi," he whispered back. Her mouth curved into a gentle smile, but she still didn't wake up. "Sara," he said quietly, stroking a hand up and down her back, "stay here. Live with me." He felt the gooseflesh rise on her body even before she opened her beautiful eyes and stared at him.