Disclaimer: They're not mine

Rating: T or PG-13 for language and violence

Summary: It's 2am. The doorbell rings. A baby is crying. What are you going to do? W/S with GCR moments and a major case

This is also another pretty short chapter (well, short by my standards) but the next is shaping up to be a whole lot longer... Thank you for the fantastic reviews I received for the last chapter – I thought you'd hate me for ending on such an angst-y note! So thank you Megara1, JennCorinthos (wow, you've really got Sara's whole psyche down!), nick55, Juliette7179 (Aw! Happy belated birthday! I hope you had a nice time), Nikita1506 (Oh yeah – W/S over Snickers any day!), aleja21, Krys33 (Glad you liked it – I just couldn't resist sneaking some more GCR in...), charmed1818, MissyJane, Daisyangel (keep up the good work on that fic, my dear!), Review1234 (are you back yet?), Kelly, icklebitodd (your name is on the list!) and Joyce3 (that's fine! It was a great review so it more than covers both chapters!)

Anyway, onwards we go! Please do keep reading, reviewing and, most of all, enjoying what you read. And wish me luck for a pretty big exam I have tomorrow! I really should be revising instead of updating... Oh well! Enjoy! Love LJ xXx

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Wake The Hope. Chapter Twenty-Two. An Open House With...

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"The first step in the evolution of ethics is a sense of solidarity with other human beings."

ALBERT SCHWEITZER

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It was a long and hazy shift for CSI Warrick Brown despite earnest attempts to try and block out the stinging rejection from this morning. Sara'd had her own shift cut short by Catherine who had noticed her own distracted behaviour and sent her home early. It was pointless both of them staying anyway – there was only one other case that could be worked on whilst the suspect serial killer was in the hospital and, with both of them avoiding each other, there was little hope of anything being done. Catherine had asked Warrick if he'd care to elaborate on anything – get things off his chest – but he'd looked at her blankly, clearly trying to avoiding confronting it for as long as possible and Catherine, who'd used that tactic many times in her life, was not about to lecture him on how unhealthy it was.

So he carried on. He spent the day in an injured daze, a thing that wasn't helped by his co-workers' sobriety over the idea of bringing Sara's suspected attacker, a man who may have already raped and killed three women before her, the following day.

It's only now, driving home alone with Nate's achingly empty car seat still strapped and unoccupied in the back, that Warrick starts to think back, facing what's happened and what might happen from this. Or rather, what might not happen. He wonders if, when he catches those strangely foreign and yet familiar glimpses of the couple and their baby in windows and mirrors, they will still have their faces.

He sighs heavily. If he'd known this morning that that was the first and last time he'd wake beside Sara Sidle, he'd never have gotten out of bed.

He steps down from his car, pulled into his driveway, and absently locks it before wandering up the path to the front door. Still dazed, Warrick drifts into his house, shutting the door behind him and vaguely headed towards the couch to collapse – perhaps try and sleep off the day. Of all people, he didn't expect to see Sara already perching on the edge.

She stands up when she sees him; she'd been sitting there, chewing on her nails, and waiting for him to come home.

"Hey," she greets him quietly. Some more of Nate's things are in the room as well as some more of her own.

Warrick looks around him and then back at her, shocked. "Uh...hi." Had this morning at the lab really been just some horrible nightmare?

"I was hoping that maybe your offer from this morning was still open," she says almost shyly.

"My offer?" Warrick can't remember.

Sara dangles the key he gave her from one finger. "To move in," she notices his confused look and immediately drops the key onto the table, embarrassed. "Right – yeah. It was stupid – and rude – of me to assume it was still okay after everything. I'm sorry – I'll go."

She's blushing now; her hand that once held the keys now has recoiled tightly within itself as though ashamed. How could she think that, after everything, she could still pretend things were fine between them? That was stupid. And now she's right here. In his living room. Making a fool of herself. Oh God, how she wishes she'd thought this through.

"No, Sara – wait," he stops her. "I think we have to talk about things." He sits her down on the couch again. "Yes – I am a little surprised, to say the least, to see you here after I put myself out there this morning, telling you I loved you and all, and then you throwing it back in my face." He speaks so wryly of his hurt that she even manages a small smile.

"I'm so sorry, Warrick," she murmurs, making to stand up again. "I really shouldn't have come here. I just thought I'd tell you that I lied about why I chose to call you that night I found Nate. And that I think...I think I fell in love with you a while ago. I just never stopped to think about it."

Warrick looks pained. "Why couldn't you have said that this morning?" he asks her. She shrugs her shoulders despairingly.

"There was so much stuff to take in," she confesses. "I didn't know where to begin. The team had arrested our suspect without me. You'd known about it and never mentioned it. Grissom had sent you over to baby sit me. That on top of the beautiful but frankly surreal early morning I had with you today – I guess you telling me you loved me was all too much to take." She laughs nervously, avoiding his eyes for fear of what she might see in them. Hurt? Anger? Or worse – indifference?

She snatches up her bag and mumbles, "I'll go now."

"Why?" he catches her by the waist. "Why do you have to go now? Isn't this how it should be – can't this be perfect? I love you, Sara. And, after what you've said, can't we move on from this? I don't want to let all of this go now."

Sara looks at her feet. "You shouldn't forgive me for how I acted today," she mutters to her feet. "You said it yourself: you put yourself out there and I threw it back in your face."

He stares at her, incredulous and, unable to think of anything to say that might correctly express himself, he kisses her deeply.

"Yes – it hurt but I should never have kept things from you," he tells her. "So listen, tomorrow they're bringing in the suspect for questioning. He was in hospital after Brass shot him in the shoulder during the raid. Grissom specifically has told security not to let you into the room when he's being interrogated. He's a little worried about me being there, to be honest."

Sara smiles, "Why?"

Warrick grins brightly, looking into her brown eyes. "Because I'll tear the guy limb from limb, that's why."

He casts an eye around the room at the stacks of boxes and Nate's flat-packed cradle.

In the delicate silence, his voice comes out only as a quiet murmur when he says, "You know, you referred to me as Nate's daddy this morning in the shower."

Sara looks at him for a moment, remembering.

"I know," Sara replies eventually, sinking a little into his arms. "I didn't realise until later – it just seemed right." And the smile on Warrick's face widens.

Can't this be perfect?

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