Sara's POV:

Some days, I cannot imagine being without him. He has been understanding and patient the entire week we have been staying together. He's witnessed several unexpected meltdowns; Nick has been able to handle them with so much more grace than I ever could. He listens to me babble at length about rape, post-traumatic stress, or jeopardy knowledge that I have accumulated over my years. Nick says I should think about lecturing to victims of violence; he says it might be a healthy outlet for all this anger I have inside of me. Nick reassures me that I have done great things with my life; he tells me this every day . . . someday I would like to believe it.

The sun is warm against my skin; the grass is slightly cool against my legs. I've been wanting to be outside; I've wanted so badly to escape from Nick's townhouse. There are too many things there that remind me of the baby; my therapist told me not to think of it as a baby . . . it was only a fetus. It was spoken like a woman that never felt what it was like to be pregnant; like a woman that never felt a real connection to a man. I'd like to think that part of me always cared for Nick; maybe that part of me always loved him. I think I did; I like to think I did because it makes all our time together more special.

Nick decided to surprise me by taking me on a picnic. He said that I deserved some time to relax; Nick said that I needed some fresh air. He arranged all this during my morning therapy session; I didn't expect him to remember what I liked on sandwiches or that I prefer Fritos over Doritos. He took me to a park near his townhouse. There were mothers there with their children. Today was the first day that I didn't feel angry at all those women for having children. I may have even felt a little hopeful that some day I might be taking a child to the park in the afternoon to play on the playground. I observed them quietly; it was easy to take in all the details of the children and how they behaved. None of what these children did really mattered; I knew my child would have uniqueness that could only be produced by science nerd genetics, but these children were so fascinating. I was fascinated with their honesty; they always told their mothers what they wanted to do. I was fascinated with their simple social structure; you play together or you play separately but along side each other. They didn't play the same games that adults do. They didn't play the games that Grissom did.

Grissom told me that he could change for me. A year ago, I would have done anything to hear that, but today, I didn't need him to try to save me. This time, I needed to save myself. I didn't want him to run to me out of pity; I could see the pity in his eyes when he talked to me. His hand wasn't sweaty when it was wrapped around mine; I knew Grissom had rehearsed his performance a million times. He was performing a soliloquy for my entertainment; I learned just a few weeks ago that love requires some degree of spontaneity. Grissom wouldn't ever understand that; I wondered if he ever knew love other than his mother's love. I had recently become an apt pupil.

I was amazed at how Nick could love without questioning. It was like he didn't think twice about giving his heart away, but for me I struggled to let people in like that. I admired Nick's ability to be so giving without asking for anything in return. He didn't expect me to help out around the house; he didn't expect me to comfort him in moments of weakness. Whenever I was there to help him, Nick let me know that he was eternally grateful that I was there being myself . . . letting him in. I knew I could trust him; I had such a hard time trusting after Hank. I had become suspicious of intentions, but Nick always made his clear . . . he just wanted me to be happy and feel safe. There wasn't sex; there wasn't pressure. For that, I was thankful.

"You're awfully quiet," Nick said. He was lying across the blanket watching the playground.

"Watching the kids play," I replied. I was sitting at the edge of the blanket with my knees curled up against my chest.

"Are you okay?"

"I think I'm going to be okay. Nick, I'm not mad at them anymore," I replied. I knew fully well that he had no idea what I was talking about; I was mad at a lot of things in life lately.

"I'm not mad at all those women for having babies," I clarified.

"That's good," Nick replied, "What's going on in your head right now?"

"Nothing. It's nice outside," I replied.

"I'm glad you finally took the time to relax," Nick replied he ran his fingers down my spine. It was such an intimate gesture. I appreciated that. I pulled off my sunglasses and turned to face Nick.

"Thank you . . . thank you for being here with me," I replied. That's all I had to say to make him smile; that was enough to make me happy. I just wanted to see Nick happy.

"Sara, I've always liked being around you. I knew about Hank . . . I knew about his reputation, but I didn't want to hurt you. The way you smiled at him; you looked happy . . . it was good for you to get away from Grissom," Nick rambled. I never knew that he was well aware of Hank's lying ways. I couldn't get mad at him; I didn't even suspect that Hank was lying to me.

"You could have told me this a few years ago . . . we wouldn't have wasted this much time," I replied.

"Everything that has happened to you, Sara; it's made you who you are. I wouldn't throw away that time because it has made you an amazing woman," Nick replied. He ran his hand along my jaw. I could feel myself blushing.

"What does that mean?" I asked coyly.

"I don't know; we take one day at a time. I'm confident that we can do this . . . Sara, our relationship isn't work . . . it's a lot easier than that," Nick replied.

"It isn't work," I replied as I kissed his hand . . . Nick sat up. He ran his fingers through my hair. I began wearing my hair wavy; Nick said that he liked it that way, it looked much more natural on me.

"Sara, stay with me . . . I've wanted to ask you that for two years," Nick said.

"I don't want to leave. What do we do about Grissom?" I asked.

"This isn't about Grissom. He doesn't matter; he doesn't get to decide," Nick replied. I felt like a naughty child sneaking behind my father's back; I wasn't sure if I could be in a relationship like Catherine and Warrick had. They always had to sneak around; I wanted to be outwardly happy without consequence.

He kissed me. I didn't want to move; I wish I could have just frozen this moment forever.