Grissom looked nervously at the waist-high examining table standing in the middle of the room. "You have to get on . . . that?" he asked Sara, with a horrified look. "It looks like some sort of torture device!"

"Yeah, well, it feels like one too," she assured him, then couldn't resist grinning and adding, "I keep telling you, this is all your fault."

Tugging awkwardly at the paper gown wrapped around her, she groaned. "And the clothes suck too," she said on a sigh. "I can't stand these things. I'm skinny and I still can't get it on and make it cover my ass. I think they make them that way on purpose. You can never be comfortable when you know your whole backside is hanging out."

Grissom seized first on her joking assignment of blame. "Hey, what happened to your 'two to tango' philosophy?" He shook his head, laughing. "And you're right," he said with a leer, "it doesn't cover your butt. I can't believe women voluntarily do this to themselves twice a year." Despite the joking tone, he knew that both he and Sara were terribly nervous.

"You know the doctor can't really tell us anything about the baby at this point except that it exists," Sara said, changing the subject for her own benefit as much as Grissom's. "This is just the first check-up in what I'm sure is going to be a long line of them. And," she added, an evil gleam in her eye, "you're coming to every single one. If I have to, you have to!"

"Of course, sweetheart. Wouldn't miss it for the world. Well . . . except for the table part."

Sara's response was cut off by the opening of the door. "Hello, folks," said a cheery-faced woman who couldn't have stood higher than Sara's shoulder. "I'm Dr. Franks," she added, holding out her hand to shake Sara's. "And you're Sara?"

Sara nodded. "Yeah and this is Gr- um, Gil."

Taking no notice of Sara's slip, Dr. Franks smiled warmly and spoke again. "Nice to meet you both. I'm glad you were willing to come, Gil; it seems to make the mothers much more comfortable when they're sure that the fathers are suffering through these exams also. Please, both of you call me Ruth. Dr. Franks is too formal for this sort of atmosphere, I always say." She offered another smile in an attempt to put both future parents at ease. "This is your first, I see," she said, looking at Sara's information sheet.

Sara nodded. "Yeah. We're a little, uh . . . apprehensive."

"Oh, don't be. I know this is the least pleasant part of the whole thing so far, but I'll try to make it as easy as possible. You're not the first to be caught by surprise by the whole rigmarole. Now, Sara, did the nurse take your blood and urine samples?"

A silent nod from Sara, who was beginning to worry her bottom lip hard enough that Grissom could tell she'd regret it tomorrow. She gripped Grissom's hand tighter and inched toward him.

"Ok, and we're pegging your due date at around February 14th, guys. A Valentine's baby, good for you! Now, let's start with the internal examination. Sara, if you'd take a seat up here," the doctor said, patting the cushioned part of the table. "And Gil, this is your chance to escape if you need to. You can either wait in the reception area or you can stay in here are be the moral support. Which would you like to do?"

Grissom blinked, caught by surprise. Before he could open his mouth, though, Sara cut in. "Oh, he's sure as hell staying in here." She gave him a sweet smile just daring him to contradict her.

"Right. In here," Grissom muttered.

Dr. Franks grinned. "You two have a healthy relationship, I see. Now, onward."

Grissom spent the next eight minutes attempting to not cover his eyes. This sort of thing made him very, very happy that he'd been born male. He listened keenly, mentally noting everyone of importance, and tried to keep Sara from noticing his averted gaze. Finally, he heard the snap of a rubber glove.

"Ok, Sara, you can breathe again; no more of those until the third trimester if everything goes well. I'll leave for a few minutes so you can get dressed, then we'll start with the medical history and physical checkup." With that, the doctor offered them another smile and left the room.

Sara made a leap for her clothes. "Oh thank you god. I never want to wear one of these things again for the rest of my life!" She glanced at Grissom's drawn face. "Hey, I'm supposed to be the panicky one here. Better get used to it, bugman."

Embarrassed, Grissom focused his gaze on Sara's face. "How do you feel?"

"Doing ok so far," she offered reassuringly. "The worst part's over. I think you enjoyed it even less than I did. Yeah," she grinned, "I saw you shutting your eyes."

Grissom turned bright red. "Er . . . sorry."

He was saved from having to converse any further about his weakness by the doctor's re-entrance. "Ok," she chirped, "let's do the medical histories for both parents. Sara, you first."

This was all news to Grissom, and he listened carefully as Sara described the heart disease that had killed her great-grandfather and her mother's breast cancer, which was now in remission.

"You have a remarkably healthy family, Sara. And Gil, I'll ask you to answer the same questions." The doctor launched into her interrogation again. "And history of heart disease? Diabetes?"

Grissom's uncles had asthma, but his family, too, was remarkably healthy . . . until they reached the hearing disorders section. "Any history of deafness or chronic ear infection?"

Sara reached out to squeeze Grissom's hand and they exchanged a look. "Yes," he said a little shakily. "There's a strong incidence of otosclerosis in my mother's side of the family. She, her sister, and I all suffer from it."

Dr. Franks stopped for a moment, clearly taken aback by his answer to a question she probably considered a formality. "Otosclerosis?" she asked after gathering her thoughts. "That is hereditary, you're right. But you don't appear to be deaf, Gil."

"Uh, no. I'm not, at least yet. But my hearing fades in and out and I've been diagnosed with the condition." He paused uncomfortably. "Is that the end of the medical history for me?"

"Yes indeed," Dr. Franks said, smiling again. "Now we just need to check out Sara's current condition and then you two can be on your way." She turned toward a scale in the corner of the room. "Sara, let's get your height and weight."

It was Sara's turn to be nervous; she knew what the doctor would say, and she was right. "Hmm," the doctor murmured. "You're 5'8½", and you weigh 128. You're quite underweight, Sara."

"Yeah," Sara sighed. "I know. It's not that I don't eat, trust me. Gil has me on a firm schedule of large meals because he thinks the same thing."

"Okay, well, judging by where you are now, I'm going to ask you to try to gain about four pounds a month, possibly a little more. We're going to aim for you to put on 35 pounds by the time you deliver."

Grissom couldn't help tossing a smug smile at Sara and saying, "I'll take care of that, Ruth, I promise."

"Good, good," the doctor laughed, and moved on to checking Sara's blood pressure and pulse, both normal. "Well that's all for today, guys. Let's schedule to see you again in a month to gauge your progress, Sara."

Sara agreed and they were ushered out into the waiting room, where she made another appointment for the date the doctor had suggested.

As they climbed into the car, Sara gave Grissom a cautious look. "Well? What do you think?"

"I think I'm going to feed you even more than I've been feeding you," he said with a smile, watching her lean the passenger seat backwards so she was closer to lying down.

"Besides that, jerk!"

"Besides that . . ." he said slowly. "Besides that . . . I think I need to look into scheduling my surgery."

Sara, who had been relaxing in her nearly-prone position, shot up to a sitting position again, giving him a close look. "You're going to do it? Seriously?"

Grissom bit his lip. "If it were just you and me, I'd probably still be debating it. But I don't want to have a child and not be able to hear his or her coos, cries, first words. So I'm going to do it." He gave her a quick look. "Do you . . . think that's a good idea?"

Sara rubbed his shoulder. "You know I've been hoping you'd get it, but I think that you couldn't have found a better reason to make your own decision. And I'm glad I won't be the only one getting woken up in the middle of the night when the baby cries!"