Author: Darlaranger

Story Title: Love Changes Us

Chapter Title: Imagine the Future

Summary: A talk between the sheets.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, literally. I have 6 dollars in my checking account and maybe 30 in my savings. If CBS and Bruckheimer really want my last 36 bucks, they can have it, as long as it means we keep getting episodes as good as Homebodies was.

Spoilers: As I plan to ignore pretty much everything that actually goes on during the episodes, I'd say you're pretty much safe here. I'll warn people if that changes.

Rating: We might be hitting "R" territory in this one.

Thanks to all my reviewers. I wasn't really expecting any and so each and every one of them made my day.

And, on with the show:

Sara woke to the patter of raindrops on the window next to the bed. Well, actually, what really woke her up was the feeling of someone's warm, wet mouth tracing an invisible line down the back of her neck and over her shoulders. Then there were the hands, one on her thigh and the other making lazy circles on her stomach, dipping lower and lower with every stroke. It was the feel of his hand on her stomach, and the feeling of guilt that threatened to rise in her throat that made her turn to face him instead of continuing to enjoy his delightful ministrations.

"Well, hello there," she said playfully, reaching down to grab the hand on her stomach and intertwine their fingers. She brought it up to her lips and kissed the knuckles. "You fell asleep on me last night."

He looks up at her with those blue eyes that always seem clearer in the moments after waking, "You could've woken me. As I recall, we had been discussing fluid collection—and as I find our discussions on that topic absolutely fascinating, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have complained."

She grinned; this is what she loved the most about him, his ability to be objective and rational, scientific, even during their most intimate moments in bed.

"Well," she said as she reached up to curl her fingers through his hair, "I wanted you to rest. You've been sick and old fellas like yourself take a bit longer to recover."

Immediately she could feel the affect her words had had on him, he stiffened and the hand that had been moving upwards on her thigh stilled. The age issue had always been one of the larger obstacles in their relationship. At first, it was one of the many reasons for his refusal to get involved with her, but he had gotten over it with her continual love and support. It didn't mean that the issue had completely been erased from his mind though, there were moments—like now—when it crept into his head, taunting him and completely taking hold of his rational thought.

"Hey, I…I'm sorry." She removed her hand from his and brought it up to caress his cheek. "I didn't mean that, it was just a jo-"

He covered her mouth gently with his hand, "Shhh, I know. It just caught me for a moment, that's all," and then he replaced his hand with his mouth, reaching up to tangle his hand in her hair. After a few moments, he pulls back, "Ready to swap samples now?"

She laughs and rolls them over so that she's sitting on top of him. "You bet."

He reaches for the bottom of the shirt she's wearing, "Ma'am, this isn't your shirt. I'm afraid I'm going to have to take it as evidence." With a grin stretching from one corner of his face to the other, he begins to shimmy the fabric up her stomach, planting tiny kisses with every inch.

"But Officer," she pleads as she pretends to be concerned; "I'll have nothing to wear if you take my shirt."

"I know."

The rain has stopped and the shirt in question earlier is now crumpled in a corner, next to a pair of boxers. The couple in bed is silent now, waiting for their heart rates to return to a normal range. Their hands are linked together, held tight to her chest. Griss can feel her heart racing under his fingers. He cranes his head to check the clock—only a few hours before they have to pretend that they can barely tolerate each other's presence. With a sigh he kisses her hair, "Go back to sleep, we've got a few hours yet."

Instead of complying, she takes a deep breath to steady herself, willing herself courage.

"Griss?"

"Really, we've got a couple of hours. You can go back to sleep." He pulls her a little closer, as if he thinks it will help her sleep.

"No, I'm not worried about that. I was just wondering, do you…do you ever think about the future?"

"The future? Like in science fiction? Entirely implausible—no."

"No," she'd turn to face him but she doesn't think she's brave enough to look in his eyes and say the words that are catching in her throat. It's cowardly, she knows it, but Sara Sidle is allowed a cowardly action now and then. She can't be Superwoman all the time.

"No, I mean, do you ever think about your future? Do you think about what could happen? What the future could bring?"

"Sure, everyone does Sara, that's how we know there's something worth fighting for in the present."

"Do you…are there…do you ever imagine children in your future?" As she said the words, she began to brace herself for the answer, and knew it would not be the one she was hoping for. Because soon as the words were uttered, his body had stiffened against her—his arms had tightened involuntarily around her and he had removed his mouth from the back of her neck.

"Sara…I'm too old to be a father."