A/N: Only one more section after this one. This will be the last section with a flashback - after this you should understand exactly how they got where they are. The final section will just deal with the resolution of March storyline. Part five should be up on Monday. Enjoy and thanks again for all the feedback. It's greatly appreciated.

----------------------------------------------- MARCH ----------------------------------------

"Hey," she said softly. "Thanks for coming."

She stepped aside and watched as he entered her apartment. His face was a mix of emotions, but mostly confusion.

"Sara, what's going on? You sounded upset in your message."

"Could you do me a favor?"

"Of course."

"Turn off your cell phone and pager. Just for a couple of minutes. I have to tell you something, and I don't think I can work up the courage twice. I have to get it all out without being interrupted." She could tell that he was terrified and her request was doing little to assuage his fears. But her fear equaled his and she couldn't offer him any comfort at this point. "Let's sit on the couch."

He did as he was asked, then followed her obediently, sitting sideways on the couch to face her. She deliberated for a moment, then reached out and took his hands in hers.

Suddenly he pulled back, leaning away from her and running a hand through his hair nervously. "Sara, if you're going to tell me that you don't want to be with me, just do it. I can't stand this."

"No! That's not it."

"Then what? What could possibly be so bad? Are you sick? Are you leaving? What's wrong?" His voice had taken on a panicked tone as he rattled off his questions, the pitch becoming steadily higher with each inquiry.

"I'm pregnant." The words slipped out before she could stop them. She'd had a little speech prepared, bracing him for the news and telling him about symptoms she'd been putting together over the last couple of weeks. But all of that was moot now.

He gaped at her silently for a moment before attempting to speak. "You're…pregnant.? As in, having a baby?"

"No, Grissom, some other kind of pregnant," she said, rolling her eyes. She knew he was reeling from the shock, but she was too nervous to deal with his ridiculous questions.

"How? When? I don't… How?"

"I would think the how is rather self-explanatory."

"But we're always so careful. And we've only been together for three weeks. Is it even possible to know yet? Maybe you're just … off track."

"We haven't always been so careful," she said softly. "I'm not just … off track. I went to the gynecologist this morning. I'm two months pregnant."

"Two months?" Suddenly the pieces all fell together for him and she could see the understanding play out across his features. "That night…."

She nodded. "We didn't use anything. I didn't even think about it until later. I remember because I was stunned later when I realized what we'd done. I've never done that before, had unprotected sex. Ever. I couldn't believe it never even crossed my mind. But that was night was so…."

"Yeah. It never crossed my mind either. All I could think about was how much I needed you."

They were silent for a minute and her stomach churned. She was terrified and she needed him to tell her that it was going to be all right. She needed him to tell her that he would be there. That he still loved her and that he'd love their baby.

"Have you thought about…what you're going to do?"

She cringed at his use of the singular pronoun.

"Whatever you decide, you know I'll support you, right?"

"I want to keep the baby," she said softly. She had known all along that it could be her only choice. Though she'd spent her entire life as a staunch supporter of a woman's right to choose, it just wasn't something she could consider in this situation. Over the past few weeks, as she tried to deny the changes that were happening to her body, she'd come to think of this baby as just that…a baby. Her baby. And Grissom's baby. She'd never been overly maternal, and in all honesty had never really believed she'd ever be a mother. But faced with the possibility, suddenly it didn't seem like the worst option.

His silence scared her. "Griss?"

"I'm just thinking, Sara."

"You don't…. I mean, if you don't want to be involved, you don't have to. I can do it on my own."

"No! God, no. That's not what I was thinking at all."

She waited, but he didn't clarify what he was thinking, leaving her to draw her own conclusions. She knew how much he valued his privacy. Her intrusion into his solitary life had come at a steep price for him. It had taken him years to get used to the idea, and she was pretty sure that while he did love her, he still struggled with it on a daily basis. A child would be…unimaginable. They hadn't even had time to settle into their life as a couple; they were nowhere near ready to take on the role of parents.

For the millionth time, she wondered if she was making the wrong decision. The idea of having Grissom's child had grown on her over the last few weeks, but it was obvious now was not the ideal time. Maybe it would be best to terminate this pregnancy. She and Grissom could work on nurturing their relationship, rather than a child. And then maybe someday, when they were both ready, they could have a child.

Her hands fluttered automatically to her still-flat stomach, as if trying to protect the child she carried from the unseen forces of her negative thoughts. She didn't want another baby somewhere down the line. She wanted this baby. The night their child had been conceived was without a doubt the most important, most incredible night of her life. The fact that their love had created a child…. She just couldn't do it. She couldn't get rid of this baby.

"I don't know what to say, Sara."

She swallowed roughly, fighting back the tears. "You don't have to say anything."

"I just need some time to process all of this. It's…overwhelming."

"I know."

His eyes darted to the door and she knew he was feeling trapped and was desperate for her blessing to leave.

"Go ahead," she said softly. "Why don't you go for a walk, or go home, or do whatever it is you do when you need to think. We can talk about this later."

"Sara…. I'm not trying to run away. I want to be here. I just…."

"I know. It's fine, really. I'm exhausted. I really just want to go to bed."

"Are you all right? God, I didn't even ask you how you feel. Are you sick? Do you need anything? Did the doctor give you vitamins?"

She smiled slightly for the first time since the doctor had confirmed her suspicions that morning. "I'm fine. Being tired is normal, as is the morning sickness I've been dealing with. Actually, from what I can tell, I've had it pretty easy so far. I've just had a couple of bad reactions to certain foods and smells."

"Vitamins?"

"Not yet. I have an appointment with an obstetrician on Wednesday." She paused. "You can come if you want."

He nodded slowly. "All right…. I'm just going to…go for awhile. Call me if you need anything. Anything, Sara. I'll make sure I have my phone on."

She walked him to the door, opening it and leaning against it as he paused in the doorway.

"I love you, Sara," he said before brushing his lips across her forehead. Then he disappeared down the hallway.

She stood in the middle of her living room for a few minutes, her mind still whirling from their conversation. Finally, unable to think about the situation any longer, she made her way to the bedroom and stripped out of her clothes, letting them lay where they fell on the floor. She snagged one of Grissom's T-shirts from the top of the laundry hamper and slipped it over her head, inhaling his scent. Then she climbed into bed and gave into the sobs she'd been holding back all morning. Eventually exhaustion overtook her, and she fell asleep still clutching her damp pillow.

----------------------------------------------------- FEBRUARY ----------------------------------

He was watching her. She could feel his eyes on her back. In the month since they'd spent twelve emotionally-charged hours making love and holding each other, she'd caught him staring at her more times than she could count. A number of times their eyes had met, and he'd refused to look away, his gaze searing her with its intensity.

Their working relationship since that night had become more relaxed. Though they still had moments of tension, it was better than the constant fighting they had been subjecting everyone to. If the other members of the team noticed things had changed between the two most private members of their shift, they attributed it to Grissom's wake up call: seeing Debbie Marlin's body and knowing one never knew how much time they had left with the people they cared about. Perhaps, they thought, he'd decided fighting was a waste of time. And everyone knew Sara and Grissom's attitudes were dependent upon each other's. If he was treating her nicely, it made sense that she was happier and easier to work with. The thought that the change in their relationship stemmed from a night of unrestrained passion never entered anyone's mind.

She was thankful for the change. Though she still struggled with the emotional toll of wanting more our of their relationship than she could have, it was good to work with him again. Their silent communication and synergistic coordination made work so much more fun. She felt more alive now.

All too aware of his eyes still on her, Sara tried to ignore him and focus on the plethora of photos spread on the drying table. She and Catherine had been studying them for nearly an hour, noting the similarities and differences of two crime scenes in an attempt to determine if the murders were related.

Grissom was in the hallway having a conversation with Warrick about the results of the trace analysis on the case they were working, but Sara knew if she looked up, his eyes would be looking past Warrick through the glass. It unnerved her, but still she relished it. It was comforting to know she was not the only one still agonizing over their nonexistent relationship.

"How's it going in here?" His voice cut through her thoughts and she flinched.

"It's going," Catherine replied, not bothering to look up.

He moved closer, so close she could feel him as surely as if they'd been touching. "What are you looking at?"

"The ligatures," she replied, praying the quiver in voice wasn't audible to anyone but herself. "See, there are similarities - the type of material, the positioning - but the knots are different. I'm trying to figure out if there was a reason he'd use a different knot based on the individual victim…or if it's just a different guy who happened to have a similar ligature style."

His hand closed over hers, guiding the magnifying glass from one picture to another so he could see what she was seeing. Her heart raced and her hand burned where it touched his. This too was not uncommon for them.

As if that night had freed him from the restraints he'd always kept in place when dealing with her, he'd since taken to touching her casually at every available opportunity, his hands lingering and reminding her of the sensations they were capable of creating. There were times she was tempted to jerk away from him, to yell at him and tell him to stop teasing her. But she couldn't do it. They fed off each other. Every touch strengthened them.

He let go finally, and she dropped the magnifying glass to the table, her hand fluttering to her necklace. She ran the pendant back and forth across the silver chain in an unconscious nervous gesture. His eyes followed the motion, and she realized what she was doing. She stopped immediately, dropping her hands to the table. She expected him to look up and meet her gaze, but his eyes stayed glued to her throat. He paled and withdrew visibly. Her brow furrowed as she watched him retreat, concerned that something was seriously wrong.

"Uh, well, keep looking. I'm sure you'll find something," he said, edging toward the door. "I have to…."

He hurried back into the hallway, nearly crashing into the doorframe in his haste. She watched as he headed back to his office and made a split-second decision.

"Hey, Cath, I'm gonna take a quick break. My eyes are killing me. I'll be back in a minute."

Catherine looked up and raised an eyebrow, but nodded silently and went back to studying her photos. Sara hurried down the hallway as quickly as she could without drawing attention to herself.

The door to his office was closed and the light appeared to be off, so she hesitated before knocking. When there was no response, she twisted the knob and opened the door tentatively. He was sitting at his desk in the dim light that struggled in past the closed blinds, head in his hands. She didn't move, and when he looked up, she expected him to ask her to leave.

"Come in and shut the door," he said quietly. "Lock it."

Her concern deepened, but she did as he asked. "God, Grissom. What's wrong?"

"I need you to do me a favor." His voice was strained and he was avoiding her gaze.

"What? Tell me."

"I need you to take that necklace off."

"Excuse me?" she asked, sure she had heard him wrong. Her fingers went to the pendant again, gripping the colorful butterfly. "My necklace?"

"Take it off. Please, Sara." His voice was so agonized she did it immediately, though she was still baffled by the request.

"It's off. I put it in my pocket." She watched as his eyes bored into her neck, proving to himself that the offending piece of jewelry had been disposed of. "What in the world is going on?

He tried to speak, but couldn't, so he settled for motioning for her to come closer. He stood as she approached and took her into his arms, holding her so tightly she had to struggle for air. She clung to him, stroking his hair and whispering words of comfort.

"What's wrong? Talk to me. You're scaring me, Gil."

He was quiet for a long time and she worried he would never tell her what had upset him so badly. Finally, he broke his silence, his voice trembling. "She collected butterflies. There were so many of them. She had a butterfly tattooed on her back. Her boyfriends bought her butterfly jewelry. Seeing that butterfly…on your neck. Sara…."

There was no question in her mind who "she" was. "Okay…. It's okay…. I had no idea. I'm sorry. I won't wear it anymore."

He stayed in her arms for another minute, soaking in her strength. Then he began to tense. "I'm sorry," he said, pulling away. "I shouldn't have overreacted like that. I'm fine."

She watched as he built up his walls again, each phrase shutting her out further.

"I should get back to Catherine," she said reluctantly, giving him the out he obviously wanted. "If you need me…."

He nodded and she slipped out the door and back into the hallway, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the bright light.

The knock on her door was tentative. If she hadn't been sitting silently in her living room trying unsuccessfully to read a novel, she might not have heard it at all. Her first thought was of him, because her first thought was always of him, but she shook her head and reminded herself there was a different between fantasy and reality.

She looked through the peephole and inhaled sharply. He stood on the other side still dressed in his clothes from work, shifting uncomfortably. Hurriedly, she turned the locks, swinging the door open. His eyes met hers, but he said nothing.

She stepped aside and he moved past her into the small apartment. He wandered into the living room and she followed, waiting for him to explain.

"I can't do this anymore."

She was struck by a sudden wave of nausea. She had wondered if it would come to this. She had wondered if eventually it was going to get to be too hard, and one of them was going to have to leave. As much as she sometimes dreaded the torture of seeing him and being unable to act on her feelings, the thought of never seeing him again was infinitely worse.

"You want me to leave," she said hollowly.

He looked at her uncomprehendingly for a moment, then his confused look was replaced with one of horror. "No! God, Sara, that's the last thing I want. That's not what I meant, honey. I swear." He had pulled her into his arms during his brief tirade, and she felt herself relax against him as he held her tight and stroked her back. "I love you, Sara. I can't do this anymore. I can't pretend it doesn't mean anything to me. I can't pretend we're just friends. I can't watch you at work and then go home to my empty house. I need you."

There was no stopping the tears that had begun to flow. They seeped into the soft cotton of his shirt as her body shook slightly with each sob.

"I know," he said, stroking her back. "I've been so miserable, too."

"Tell me this isn't just about the necklace," she said softly. "Tell me you're not going to wake up in the morning and realize I'm alive and well and you don't have to reassure yourself of that anymore so it's okay to walk away from me. Tell me…."

"I love you, Sara. This isn't about the necklace. Yes, that brought things to a head today, but after the initial terror, I wasn't thinking about that. I was thinking about that night. I was remembering how incredibly wonderful it was - beyond words - and I was dying inside thinking I could never have that again."

"I've dreamed of this moment for so long. I just kept praying that you'd come back But now that it's happening, I'm terrified. I'm so scared you're going to wake up in the morning, or wake up some morning in the near future, and decide you don't need me anymore, that you were better off before."

"I'm scared, too, Sara. I'm convinced you're going to wake up one morning and realize you're throwing your life away with me. I'm so much older than you and I'm stuck in my ways and I'm emotionally unavailable most of the time. I'm married to my work. I'm difficult to live with. Why in the world would you want anything to do with me?"

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you, too."

It wasn't a guarantee, but there were no guarantees, she realized. There was only trust and love.

tbc