Merci Carmen, Marlou and Law-ren. These updates are only taking forever because school owns my SOUL.

As Sara awoke she noted that she was not in a position she had expected to be in. It wasn't that she had forgotten that Grissom was in her bed with her, it was simply that she hadn't expected to wake up with herself wrapped entirely around him.

Her arms clutched his chest delicately but securely; her left leg was flung over his under the covers and her cheek was pressed firmly to his back. She could hear his heart beat… what a sound to wake up to.

Warmth flooded her body as Sara fought the urge to squeeze a little tighter, snuggle down a bit further. But from her position on the bed she could see some of the boxes she had begun to pack in haste, and a rise of guilt and fear bubbled up within her.

Was he allowed to do what he was doing? Could he simply whisk in and mend her heart with a few kind words and kisses? Was she any less of a person for being content with his offer when she wasn't entirely sure it was best for her? Sara wasn't so much torn as completely in limbo.

She could make neither heads nor tails of how she became wrapped up in all of it so fast, so fast, and pausing to wonder about if her actions were rational only made her want to grasp onto him more. Sara doubted with the way she was holding him that she'd ever be able to let him go; he felt too right there. .

She did squeeze him then, the weight of his body, the solidity reassuring her. He was still with her, lying beside her, breathing, sleeping, living with her. Even if it was only a few hours under the bliss subsided, it was something concrete she could hold onto. Perhaps if she could just get him compact enough to fit into one of the boxes she wouldn't have to deal with her confliction.

She knew she could fit him in one of the boxes with her books… and at least he'd have something to read on their trip to… anywhere.

The two of them, off away from the sickness and perversion and sadness of their lives… might be amazing. It might have been everything if they could have simply gathered it all up and left. Years of baggage to just… leave behind…

Just as her eyes were about to slip closed for a respite into contentment, Grissom's body shifted and his breathing hitched and Sara felt the reality of her presence sank in deep. "Evening," he mumbled, lips still acquainting themselves with coherent speech. "How did you sleep?"

She wanted to see what he looked like waking up in the morning, buttery light rolling over him, nestling in his hair…

There was an exponential increase in the strength with which Sara was holding him then and before either of them could speak, he had brought his arms up around hers, holding her there. "This is the best feeling," she whispered, voice frightened rather than sated. "Ever."

To that, he said nothing, content for a moment to just live out a life in a few heartbeats, a few light touches. "Haven't slept that deeply in ages," came his raspy declaration, "And I'm glad you don't snore."

The tension broke then as she playfully nudged his leg with her own. In a move that both shocked and pleased her, he rolled to his side and dragged her warm, soft body right on top of his. "Mmm, you can be my blanket."

Head on his chest, she replied, "I like… blankets."

A chuckle rocked her body as he laughed and it took her a moment to realize that the entire predicament they were in was just what she didn't want to happen. She didn't want him to come to a brash realization about his feelings when she'd finally decided to run away. Sara felt like she had pressured all of the admissions from him, that they weren't really his to give and that they weren't hers to receive. She felt dirty and malicious and so warm with him rubbing his palm up and down her back that she didn't think it mattered how they got there…

It just mattered that they had finally made it. "Now," Grissom broke into her thoughts, hand pausing over the dip of her spine, "If we had the New York Times crossword… this would be perfection. The Sunday crossword in bed… "

Her fingers came up to play with the hair at the nape of his neck and she could have sworn he'd begun to purr. "Most normal people do the Sunday crossword, gee, I don't know, in the morning, when it comes out," she said, tugging lightly on his hair, making him growl in a deliciously insidious manner. God, to see morning sun over his sleepy face, just the thought made her heart clench.

His lips were on her throat then, pecking away. "We redefine normal," he whispered, words obstructed slightly by the delectable salt of her skin. "And I like it."

The we, him speaking of the two of them as one entity was more than she thought he would allow her to know. Already, she'd become reattached, yearning for him more, needing to know him more, more, more.

Sara allowed him to play for several moments over her throat while being sure not to be pulled too far into the sweetness of the moment. "I need more boxes."

Grissom was blissfully unaware of what she was referring to, having found a new patch of skin to greet at the hollow of her throat. "Mmm, why?"

"For the rest of my stuff," she sighed, tilting her head just a bit to the left to accommodate his searching tongue. Then the meaning of her words began to settle in.

His kisses slowed down, stopped and after a second, his head fell hard back against the pillow. "What does that mean?" She knew very well that though he said before that he would understand if she did decide to leave, if she left a part of him would fall away; a part of him would be empty after having given over so much of himself in so little time.

Sara pushed the hair out of her face and rolled off of him, depositing herself against his side. "It means I can't be here anymore." And to belay the look or irritation/anger/fright on his face she added, "This apartment Grissom, not this city."

The question in his eyes was spoken a moment later. "Why? This is you, the colors, the things."

"Too many sad things happened here. Too many nights spent sad, too many mornings; these walls are sad now, this furniture. This isn't a home, this wasn't my sanctuary. It's just a place," she reasoned. "I need a home. Everyone deserves a home."

'Let's make a home together,' he almost said, almost hoped to say, but he knew that would simply not work. They were both still two private people who needed to shroud themselves in darkness from time to time. Perhaps one day they would share a space, cohabitate and live side by side, but lying side by side was enough for the moment.

They both felt it. "Maybe a loft…" she speculate, unable to keep her hands off of him. So warm, so soft, hers to touch. "Something airy and big, so I can breathe."

"Maybe some bright colors," he returned. "I've always thought you to look very alive in orange."

That amused her. "I think I've worn orange maybe once in the past few years."

"And my did you ever wear it."

A smack of her lips to his neck and she continued. "A place with lots of light, maybe a garden, a porch or a deck. Someplace a bit outside the city."

"You were born to grow things…nurture things…" She saw herself, relaxed and happy, tending to tomato plants in a backyard; she saw herself tending to daisies and violets; she saw him standing behind her, waiting to water her plantings.

She saw things growing, with the help of both of them. Things would bloom, flourish, live. It was a nice idea, but it was just a fantasy.

"Oh would you stop with the compliments?"

Grissom grabbed her hand and brought it up to his lips for a few kisses. "Bear with me, I've got a backlog I have to work through." That thought rolled all through her and she wanted to ask when in particular he knew when she was made to nurture things, what in particular he had been feeling at that moment. She wanted to ask him what he thought of her when he saw her in orange, when he saw her in blue, green, gray, indigo.

She wanted to know everything, completely. For now though, she would settle with the little pieces he was willing to give, snatching them up and storing them away until all of the pieces were collected and she could put him all together and look at the entire Grissom puzzle.

Placidity took over his features and his body relaxed once more beside her. "This is dysfunctional," he said, bringing his hand across her body to grasp hers. "This is so dysfunctional and awkward Sara," but he smiled. "There's nothing I wouldn't do for you."

"Don't say that; there are a lot of things you wouldn't do for me." She couldn't see him giving up his insects or wearing brighter colors or going out dancing, and she was fine with that. He wouldn't have been himself if he had done those things and in true selfless fashion she loved him, just the way he was.

"…that's… true…" Grissom said, puzzling over why he had stated the opposite to begin with.

"I can deal with your shortcomings," Sara soothed. "To a certain point."

"I don't really have to be a vegetarian, do I?"

"Eat as much meat as your stomach desires. Besides, you need all your vitamins so you can grow big and strong." She said the last bit whilst pinching his cheeks and laughed at the wince she received as a result.

"I'll show you how strong I can be," he growled and rolled over onto her, suppressing the squeak she emitted with a quick palm. "I love you…r nose Sara."

"I love your nose too."

They smiled at each other in that way that lovers do and he kissed her softly, slowly, savoring the rough texture of her lips, the sleepy sweetness of her eyes. Sara fidgeted around on the bed, wanting to feel more of his skin against hers, wanting to feel all of him with her.

She wasn't ready and tried to tell him so but the words just stayed static in her throat. "I, Griss… I…"

"I'll wait," lips landed on her forehead and tears prickled her eyes. She didn't know why. "I'll be waiting."

Though the warm light of the promise in his eyes was reassuring, Sara kept reminding herself that there was no guarantee that any of what they had built would work out in the end.