Grissom watched her eyes closely as she thought about what he'd just asked, but her face wasn't giving anything away. Had he screwed it up again? Had he been hideously unromantic? Or did she really not want to marry him? Whatever it was, she certainly wasn't prostrating herself at his feet and begging for a ring.

"Um . . ." Sara stuttered again, floored by his question. She hated being blindsided like this; it automatically made her want to say no to whatever was being thrown at her, but she really didn't want to say no this time. She didn't want to say yes, either, at the moment – what she really wanted to do was give Grissom a good whack in the head for doing this to her.

She was saved from having to answer him by the bell - or by the baby, to be more accurate - as Galina chose that moment to wake up and start crying. Moving quickly, Sara scooped her up, dropping kisses onto the baby's head. "It's ok sweetie, are you hungry? Yes you are . . ."

Grissom watched this, knowing exactly what she was doing: tuning him out. Yes, the baby was crying, but Sara was taking advantage of it to avoid answering him. "You're dodging the issue."

"Shh," she said with a scowl. "I've got to feed the baby, can you just chill out?"

"No. Because once you're done feeding her, you'll have 'forgotten' what I asked, and then it'll be time to go back to the party so we're not rude to our guests, and then we certainly won't be able to discuss it in front of people, and then the baby will be hungry again . . . you're hiding, Sara."

She started unbuttoning her shirt. "So what if I am? I don't owe you anything."

This wasn't going well. He sighed. "I'm not trying to corner you, you know. If you don't want to marry me, say 'no' and that'll be the end of it."

Sara ignored him, concentrating on the child in her arms. She was still getting the hang of this whole breast-feeding thing, and it required attention to get the baby and herself into the right positions. Plus, she was avoiding the conversation – but did Grissom have to say it out loud?

Grissom held his peace until she had the baby settled and nursing. Knowing how much effort had gone into getting in that position, he was sure that Sara wasn't going anywhere for the next ten minutes. He placed himself behind her chair and laid gentle hands on her shoulders, rubbing them.

Sara's mouth tightened. "You are cornering me, Gil, and I don't like it. Why'd you have to throw this at me all of a sudden?"

"For heaven's sake, Sara," he said incredulously, "I've been asking you the same question in different forms for the past – what? – six months or so? And now you're telling me I've shocked you by asking again?"

She looked down at the baby again, formulating her answer. "No, I don't mean I'm shocked that you asked again. I mean that I'm shocked you just did it totally randomly, right now. With a houseful of people twenty feet down the hall and a three-day old baby crying next to us."

He shrugged. "I'm honestly out of patience. I need to know, just for my peace of mind. I'm not saying that it's all or nothing, that you have to marry me to have me," he added quickly. Then, after trying to find a way to explain himself, he tried to clarify things. "I just need to be able to set the question to rest in my head."

"Right. So you're not threatening me right now," she scoffed.

"I'm not. Either way, you know there's no way I'll ever leave you. Or you should know that, if you don't." He left her shoulders and moved around to squat in front of her. "Maybe I just want to know if I should return the ring."

That got her attention. "You bought me a ring?"

Aha! He had her hooked now; all he needed to figure out now was how to reel her in. A teasing note entered his voice. "Maybe . . . I guess you won't ever know if you don't give me an answer."

"Gil Grissom, you are such a beast!"

"Ah, my dear, but I'm a beast who may or may not have something sparkly to give you. And I know that you want to find out whether I do or not." He stood up, grinning down at her.

A small burp came from Sara's chest area. She laughed and stood up to burp the baby, then laid her back in the crib. "Of course I want to know. And I suppose the price is me giving you an answer?"

"That would be it. Well, and a kiss."

"Bastard."

"I prefer 'brilliant.' Or at least 'rat bastard,' if you must use that word." He laid his hands on her hips without pulling her toward him, content just to touch her. "So?"

"Fine."

"Uh . . . 'fine,' what?"

" 'Fine,' I'll marry you." She couldn't hide the smile that broke across her face when Grissom gave her a look of utter disbelief.

"Did I just hear you say 'fine,' as an answer to my proposal?"

"Yeah," she said with a laughing nod. "I thought it fit the manner in which the question was posed. 'I'm not going to do this the traditional way because I might not be able to get up again' isn't exactly the height of romance either." She stepped closer to him, clasping her hands together behind her back. "Sooo . . . is there a ring, or isn't there?"

Grissom held up a finger. "Ah, just wait, my dear. Stay here for a few minutes."

"Why? I want to see it!"

"Just do it."

"Ooookay."

Five minutes later he still wasn't back. Sara was tapping her foot impatiently when she heard the click of Newton's nails on the hall floor. Moving to intercept the dog before Newton, otherwise known as "The Tail," could infiltrate the baby's nice, clean room, she snagged hold of the dog's collar just outside the doorframe.

Something felt strange – the collar wasn't soft in her hand. "Hey, why are you wearing the expensive one?" she asked the happily panting canine. "Are you dressed up for the party?" She leaned down to confirm that Newton was, indeed, wearing the gold collar instead of nylon.

She was, and there was something hanging from it, right next to the dog's tags. Upon closer examination, it was revealed to be a small silk bag, and Sara was pretty sure she could guess what she was going to find in it. "Might as well come back in, Gris! I found the bag!"

"In a minute. This is part of the romance bit."

Just like him, she thought fondly. Once he decided he was going to go for the 'romance bit,' he laid out his plans carefully. "Ok, fine. I'm opening it . . ."

She didn't say anything for a long minute and Grissom abandoned his waiting in favor of entering the room to see what was going on. "Sara?" He was hit by a set of flying arms that snaked around him.

"Oh my god, Gris, this isn't a ring, it's the ring!"

"Does that mean you like it?"

"It means I think you read my mind while I sleep." She turned the ring over in her hand, examining it closely. "Anyone else would automatically have thought that bigger is better, but you got it right." She slipped it onto her finger.

The ring didn't overwhelm her slim fingers at all; instead it seemed to compliment them. A moderately-sized circular diamond graced the top of what was either a white gold or platinum band, flanked by two much smaller marquise-cut stones the color of flames. "What are these?" she asked, pointing to the colored stones.

"Padparadscha Sapphire."

The name meant nothing to Sara, but she filed it away in her head for further research. "My god," she said suddenly, "did I really just agree to marry you?"

Grissom flushed. "Are you having second thoughts?"

"No! No, that's not it." She hugged him tightly. "It's just that you seem to have this way of making me jump off the diving board without actually pushing me. I really do think you have latent psychic powers and you use them to find out exactly what to say to make me comfortable."

Grissom, still trying to interpret that explanation, decided that he could puzzle over it later; right now he just wanted to enjoy knowing that Sara was going to marry him and that she was hugging him. He raised his hands slowly and wrapped them around her waist.

"Oh damn," Sara muttered into his neck. "Now we have to plan a wedding."