Nick's POV:
I watch her sleep. Sara looks so beautiful in sleep. She's been staying with me for four days. I have ten more days off before I need to go back to work.
She's been sleeping on my pull-out couch. Sara wouldn't let me give up my bed for her; I knew she couldn't sleep there anyways. It would be too hard to be in that bed after . . . I still had a hard time with it. Most nights, she wakes up in a cold sweat. From the bedroom, I can hear her gasping for air. She says it's a form of post traumatic stress; Sara says it's something that she lived with throughout her twenties. Sara lets me hold her; most nights, I fall asleep next to her on the pull-out. I wake early in the morning with her in my arms; it's disorienting. I slide out of bed and return to my bed; I'm not sure how she would feel if I was still in bed with her come morning.
Sometimes, Sara talks endlessly. Some days, the only time she is quiet is when she listens to the police scanner to 'unwind.' I let her; it's good for her to have routine. We've gotten the routine down to a clinical science. In the morning, Sara goes to see her new therapist. I drive her and wait in the parking lot. She's asked me to come in once; her therapist said that it would be good if we tried 'couple's counseling.' I thought that might be premature; I had no idea if we were qualified to be a couple. I felt incredibly uncomfortable in her therapist's office; I didn't know what to say. The only therapy I ever had was alone; it was after Nigel.
Sara said that I sucked at talking; I didn't expect her to put it any differently. We talked occasionally, but for the most part, we were there when each other needed to vent. Sara cried; I couldn't imagine her crying before these last few days, but she cried when she was frustrated. Simple things would trigger an emotional response that I couldn't believe came out of Sara. The first time was when we were in the parking lot of the grocery store; there was this adorable three year-old. The toddler's hair was brown with unruly ringlets. Sara clung to me and cried. The mother asked if Sara was okay, I could barely manage the words 'we just lost a child.' The woman looked at us with such sympathy. The woman walked away with the kid in tow. It took nearly a half hour for Sara to quiet; we never went grocery shopping that afternoon.
I wasn't sure what my response was. Sometimes, I felt numb. I felt numb after I told my mother; I wasn't sure why I needed to tell her. I was sure that she would just give me a hard time about it. I wasn't prepared for her to be upset, but I wasn't sure if she was upset because she could have been a grandmother again or if it was because I wasn't married. My mother talked at me for nearly an hour. Other times, I flew into a fit of rage. Sara quickly learned to step lightly when I became frustrated. I dropped a glass on the kitchen floor, but I reacted like the world was going to end. Sara would tell me that it was okay; she asked me to go back on the anti-depressants. Sara was the only person that knew I needed anti-depressants after Nigel. Sara said that they might help me; she even made the appointment with my doctor for me. They had worked once . . . I hoped that they would help me to feel something other than anger and numbness.
Greg stopped by daily. He would bring us news about cases . . . dirt about our colleagues. He entertained Sara; Greg would let her beat him at Jeopardy every day. It was nice to have that break during the afternoon; it was nice to let someone else scrutinize what was happening in Sara's head.
Grissom stopped by once. He was careful not to set Sara off; he had been on the receiving end of her wrath about calling her parents. Grissom said he had never seen anything that frightening in his life; Sara was definitely a hurricane when she was mad. He took her on a walk in a nearby park; I wasn't invited. I didn't really want to be invited; I hated to watch him interact with Sara. There was a subtle friendliness that was just too friendly for my liking. Sara came back in a bad mood; she said that she was tired. That was enough to drive Grissom away. I didn't dare ask what he said to upset her, but she told me after he left. He told her that this relationship needed to end; we were both in breach of contract . . . no interoffice dating. Sara told him to stick his contract up his ass; Grissom looks the other way for Warrick and Catherine . . . why did this have to be different. Sara said he said the words that she waited for him to say for years . . . I want to change for you . . . I want to protect you from yourself. Sara said that it was too late for Grissom to change; Sara had already changed so drastically that he could never be more than a boss. I felt betrayed by Grissom; I hoped that Sara didn't change so much that I couldn't be a part of her life.
She's in my arms; it's four in the morning. It's time for me to plan my escape back to my bed for a few hours of fitful sleep. I gently move her off my arm.
"Nick, stay with me . . . I don't want you to go like you do every other morning," Sara replied. She was groggy. I didn't realize that Sara knew I left her every morning.
"Are you sure?" I asked. Her brown eyes were open. They looked different today; they didn't look as lost.
"Stay with me," Sara replied. Her voice was throaty; it was hoarse from crying only a few hours ago. She had another nightmare; Sara had nightmares about being raped. All the stress was reigniting the post-traumatic stress that she had grappled with for years. I pulled her back into my arms. She instantly relaxed against me; I wished that this is how we could have spent our first night together so many weeks ago.
"Does it still feel right?" Sara asked. I wasn't sure what she meant. I wasn't sure if she was asking about the fantasy or the reality, "Right now, does this still feel right?" She had become good at figuring out when she had confused me; I almost laughed at how she accommodated me.
"This feels right," I whispered. She rolled over to face me. She was crying; I wondered what I had said.
"Good because I can't think of a reason to leave," Sara replied. The tears silently rolled down her face. She kissed me; I don't remember if I kissed back. It was easy to get caught up in the moment with her. Her kiss was like electricity shooting through my body; I suddenly felt stupid for thinking that it was just a cliché. I was glad that she couldn't think of a reason to leave because I was beginning to be sure that I wouldn't know what to do if she left.