A/N: This A/N is going to be a litte longer, but I need to say something. It's a goodbye note, and it's really sad to me. I have to say goodbye to Snow as my beta. For some reasons, she can't do it for me anymore, and I know that she's probably right, but I still find it really sad. Thank you so much for doing all the things you did for me, you just know why. Thanks for all the reviews!

This chapter is dedicated to Snow.

Chapter 15

He stepped out of the car and walked over to her. He opened her door and took her by her hands, pulled at them carefully and helped her out of the passengers-seat. Holding hands, they stood there in the middle of the pavement. She looked up and warmed him with a smile. He gazed into her eyes. Then he noticed the bags under her eyes.

She looks tired, exhausted actually. Maybe this trip was too much. Maybe I should have put her in the wheelchair and should have refused to let her walk all by herself. Does she actually want to live in my house? Maybe she was just being polite, maybe she doesn't want to be so close to me, at least not yet.

He shrugged the thoughts away. She still looks confused, maybe we both could go inside. He moved closer to her and touched her left cheek with his hand. He brushed her hair out of her face. He noticed her closing her eyes.

"Hmmm... Gris?"

He knew that he didn't have to answer that question. He moved even closer to her and twined his arms around her. He could feel her muscles relaxing and her snuggling to his chest; her hands laid on his shoulders.

"Thank you..." She whispered in his ear and her head moved back to his chest. His hand caressed her hair and the other moved to her waist. He laid it on the fabric of her coat, then realized that he wanted to feel her. He replaced the cotton a bit and touched her bare skin. He wanted to kiss her, hold her, have her and never let her go. He knew that she was tired and he didn't want to make her even more so. He just held her close to himself.

God, I like to feel her body against mine. I love to hold her, to kiss her... why have I waited so long? Why did it take so long for me to realize what I want?

She lifted her head from his chest and looked up at him. She could say a thousand things, but kept quiet, though her eyes were filled with longing. He kissed her forehead, still holding her tightly to him. She stretched up and let her lips touch his.

Before he realized it, she already had turned her head away. She freed herself from his arms, touched his shoulder and walked over to the door. Her hand reached for the door handle but she realized that she didn't have a key. She turned around and saw that Grissom had already taken her bag out of the car. He walked over to her and moved her gently aside. He took the key out of his pocket and put it in the lock. He opened the door and let her walk in first.

She took a few tenative steps inside and then stood still. He took his coat from her shoulders and hung it on the rack. She didn't move any further than she had; she seemed somewhat unsure. She shivered and shifted on her feet. She inhaled deeply and breathed out. He knew that something was wrong - he almost ran towards her and took her hand. "You okay?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I just... want to sit down." Before he could do something, she shuffled to the black couch and plopped down on it. She wiggled her shoulders - her back hurt. She closed her eyes and sighed. He walked over to her, set the bag down next to the couch and turned to her. He kneeled down in front of her. Her eyes were still closed. "Do you need anything?"

She frowned and looked at him. "Yeah, I would love some tea and... I'm a little bit cold... can I have a blanket?"

"Of course you can."

He moved over to the chair and grabbed the fleece blanket. He sat down next to her and wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, carefully; he didn't want to hurt her. She took it and pulled it tightly to her. She shivered and laid her head back against the couch. He stood up.

"I'm going to get you some tea"

He made his way to the kitchen and put on the kettle. He came back with two cups of tea and gave one to her.

"Thank you..." She opened her eyes and smiled at him. She took a sip of the tea. He put his tea on the table, he didn't want to sit down because he had lots to do; he wanted her to be as comfortable as she could be. He was thinking of putting her bag in the bedroom when his eyes fell on the dining table. He noticed that something stood on it, something he had not placed on it. He blinked and walked over to it. Sara was not watching what he was doing; she had closed her eyes again and was warming her right cheek with the hot cup of tea. When he arrived at the table, his eyes widened. What is this? Who has placed these things on my table? His gaze was first drawn to the note sitting there. It was a framed, white paper, with red words on it, printed and surrounded by hearts, flowers and tiny butterflies.

'Welcome Home, Sara. '

Who has done this? How did this end up in my home? Who the heck went into my townhouse and put this on my table?

He picked up the frame, took the paper out of it and checked to see if it said anything else, a name or an address.

'Wish you will enjoy your time together. Catherine, Nick, Warrick, Greg and Jena.'

How nice... they sneaked into my house. I should never have given the key to Catherine, never.

He rolled his eyes, but shortly after it, his attention was drawn to something else. There was a bunch of flowers standing on the table, mixed flowers. There was no card visible, but he knew that they were from the same people who signed the note. He shoved the vase aside and finally saw the framed photograph. His eyes widened considerably; he couldn't believe what he saw. It was a photograph of him and Sara, lying very close to each other. Both of them were sleeping, she was lying in his arms.

Where on Earth could someone have gotten this picture?

It was clear that this was not a photo-shopped picture, no, this was real. And he remembered the moment of them, lying together on her bed. It was one of the nicest memories he had with her, though he had mixed feelings about the photograph. Because there was a photograph of the moment he would not be able to forget it, but it also meant that they were not alone during that intimate moment.

But how did the photographer get so close to us? Who took the picture? And why?

He suspected Catherine, but couldn't prove anything. He looked at the picture and tried to push away the curious, but annoyed thoughts in his head.

She seemed ill in the photograph; she had been ill and still was. But still she looked like an angel, my angel to be specific. He placed the picture on the table again and hesitated. Can I show this picture to Sara? How would she react? Will she be angry?

He glanced over at her and decided that she should see it; she would find it eventually anyways, and ask when he had found it. And he knew that he wouldn't be able to deny the truth then. He ambled over to her and sat down. She laid her head on his shoulder and shifted her upper body. "Sara?"

"Hmm?"

"You need to see this..."

She looked up and saw the picture Grissom was holding. She grasped the picture frame out of his hands and looked at it.

What the hell is this? Who has taken this picture and what has Grissom got to do with this? What has he done? Has he hired someone to take this photograph? And why is he showing this to me? This means that... we were not alone... then? Why has this picture been printed? I look awful, horrible, totally unflattering. He has to throw this picture away.

She swallowed and looked at him. "Have you... What is this?"

Grissom shrugged. "I don't know... I found it on the table. I guess someone of the lab is involved with this... I didn't know about the existence of that picture until a minute ago."

Sara glanced at him. "I look awful... I am so pale there... can you throw it away? Please?"

"Honey, look at me. You never will look awful, never. You're an angel to me, really. I am not going to throw this away."

Her eyebrows lifted and she looked away from him. I think I have to feel flattered by this... but I don't. Is he just saying this to please me, or because he really means it? He can't be serious, because I am not beautiful, I'm not special. I'm just nothing. Why doesn't this feel right? Why am I not blushing?

She felt like crying because of the way she felt: Tired, unloved, selfish and a burden to everyone. She tried to shake the thoughts away and fake a smile, but couldn't keep the facade on. She began to cry; she tried to wipe the tears away with her arm, but she realized that there were too many tears. He pulled her to him, without speaking, and pressed her head to his chest. She buried her face into his shirt. He caressed her shoulders and after some time, he felt that she was calm again.

"Hey... why were you crying?"

She sobbed and swallowed hard. "I... I don't know... I have no reason to... it's just... just..."

She started sobbing again. She lingered on his shoulder. "I... I feel like I'm... a burden to you, and I don't want to be..."

"Shhhh, Sara... that's not true... I want you in my life; you are the one I love. Please, Sara, never doubt that."

She looked at him with tearstained eyes. She swallowed and managed a weak smile. "Sorry, sorry for everything. I'm so sorry..." She laid her head against his chest and listened to his heartbeat. Her facial expression suddenly changed. Grissom noticed it and looked at her, eyes full of concern.

"What's wrong, honey?"

"My back hurts..."

"Take off your shirt."

She glanced at him. What did he just say? Take off my shirt? I don't want to have sex right now, I'm awfully tired and in pain and... no, I don't need to have a reason; I just don't want to have sex, not now.

"Can you repeat what you just said?"

"Take off your shirt, please..."

She still looked at him, with a glance of disbelief. "Why?"

"Do you trust me?"

Where is this leading to? Trust? Bondage? Some weird SM-thing? He, taping me up, whips, leather, masks? Trust, that's what those people want, right? Of course I trust him, but... why take off my shirt? What the heck is he going to do with me?

"What do you want to do with me? Where is this leading to, Gris?"

"I ask you again, do you trust me?"

Slowly, Sara nodded. "Yes, I do... but-"

"Then take off your shirt."

Okay, if he really wants this, I'll do it, but I still don't know why. Why does he want me to take off my shirt? So that he can look at my naked body? But why? Why now?

Still with insecurity, she looked at him and realized that she couldn't do that; her whole body still hurt by the scars. "I can't... do that... alone... it hurts to do that, can you help me?"

Grissom's hands slipped to the underside of the shirt. His warm hands touched her waist, and held them there for a second. Then they went back to the fabric of the shirt and removed it carefully. Crap, I don't wear a bra... Sara realized that she was half naked right now. She felt terribly unsure; what was he going to do with her?

"Now, please, close your eyes, and be quiet, okay?"

Why? So he can watch my naked body without me knowing that he is looking, right? Sara frowned, shook away the sarcastic thoughts and did what he said. His hands moved to her shoulders, and held her close to him. He touched her bare skin with his hands and kissed her shoulder.

"I promise I won't hurt you, okay? Just trust me, okay?"

Sara nodded. He held her body and laid her down on the couch, first on the side. She curled her legs up until she laid in a fetal position. He straightened her legs, watched her half-naked body for a second. He noticed the large scar on her chest, it still was red and coloured, but didn't affect her beauty. He wanted to touch and feel her. He rolled her over onto her stomach, carefully. She frowned. "Gris, this hurts... I can't... do this... lie on my stomach..." How stupid could I have been? She must still hurt from the gunshot wound, I should have known this. "I'm very sorry, Sara..." He rolled her over to the other side, so that her head faced the back of the couch. She closed her eyes again. He smiled.

Oh, she was beautiful, even though she looked pale and tired. The way she had looked at me, the slightly curved spine, the closed eyes. She is mine... she trusts me and she's mine.

He felt like he was exploding, but knew that he had to stay calm; he had a job to do. He sat down on the edge of the couch, and then slid down until he sat on the floor, right before the couch. He moved onto his knees and looked at her bare back. She tried to cover her breast with her arms; her head lay on the elbow-rest. He placed his hands on her shoulders. She shivered, but didn't make a sound.

She feels warm, really hot. Does she like my hands on her shoulders? Does she like my massage? I can ask her, but then I will disturb the situation. God, her skin feels soft and silky.

He wanted to kiss her, kiss her naked skin. He resisted his hunger and moved his fingers on her skin; he made circles, curls, and curves.

Hell, there are a lot of knots in there. No wonder her back hurts.

He could hear her moaning softly, and felt her muscles relaxing. His hands moved down to her lower back. He felt drawn to her, and wanted to feel her skin, the skin of her pregnant belly. He couldn't resist touching it, his hands went over her side and caressed her soft skin. He felt that it had grown since the last time he had touched it, two days ago. He knew that it was almost impossible but still believed that it was true. She still remained quiet, but he knew that she liked the feeling.

He went on with the massage and finished her back. When he was done, he took his hands off and looked at her. The only sound he heard was the sound of her breathing, deeply and calm. He fought a sudden onslaught of tears; he still couldn't believe that she wanted to be with him, that she was his. He touched her shoulder and rolled her up on her back. She opened her eyes and smiled at him.

"Is that okay? How do you feel, honey?"

"Hmmm, that was good, I feel better now... Thank you so much..."

He walked to the pile of clothes that lay on the other couch. He found what he was looking for.

"Sara? I have something for you..."

She followed him with her eyes, still lying down on the couch. He showed her a shirt.

"This is for you... I went to your apartment, to get you some clothes and other stuff you might need here. But I couldn't find your pyjamas, but I guess this will do it."

She looked at the shirt, and then she realized what she was looking at. Her eyes widened. "Gris, this is the shirt... from Harvard, I slept in that shirt when... well, back then. You'll tell me that... you kept it?"

"Yes, I did... I wanted to keep the memory... You may have the shirt if you want it... I haven't worn it since... that time. I think it kind of belongs to you." She hesitated and checked out the shirt. It was a navy-blue shirt, with two white lines on it. She remembered herself wearing it, looking at it. She remembered the lines.

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose

By any other word would smell as sweet."

She looks astonished at him. "That's Shakespeare... but... you give it to me? To keep it?"

"Yes, I do... it's yours. Every time I see that shirt, or read that line, I think of you..."

She couldn't help but smile, she remembered that she felt exactly the same way about the lines. It always gave her a mixed feeling: she thought about her rape, but also about their time together. And the good feelings overruled the sad feelings. She tried to sit up, but before she had moved, he helped her. He noticed that she felt uncomfortable. No wonder, she's topless right now, and however she tries to cover her breasts... she must feel unsure... He took the shirt and helped her get her head through the hole. She moved her arms into the sleeves and covered the rest of her body with the fabric.

She yawned. "Sorry, Gris, I'm actually quite tired."

"Do you want something to eat? I can get you something..."

"That would be good..."

"But first, I'll bring you to bed. We'll eat there."

He took her in his arms and lifted her from the couch. She wrapped her arms around his neck and laid her head down on his shoulder. She closed her eyes and said something unintelligible. He carried her to the bedroom and opened the door. He flicked the light on and walked inside. He checked the room, then stood still.

"What's wrong?" Sara lifted her face and looked inside the bedroom, from the cupboard to the bed. Her glance stopped at the bed sheet. "What is...? Who...? Did you... know?"

"I don't know who did this... really, I didn't know..."

They both looked at the bed sheet. It was a wintered sheet, with a golden butterfly on it. But that was not what drew their attention: on the pillow sheets were written names. Gil was written on one sheet, Sara on the other.

Sara stared out of the window. I don't know what to think about it... I mean... it's sweet but at the same time I feel like it's a break-in... Jena, she probably knows more about it... it's something she would do to surprise me... I'm sure her intentions were right, but... she could have... left a message for me, some card or so. I can call her, but not now, if he would just lay me down on the bed, I would be really thankful for that... Sleep, I can use sleep...

"Jena..."

Grissom laid her down on the bed. "Honey, I doubt that Jena did this. Maybe she was involved, but she didn't do it by herself. There were no signs of a break-in, and the only one that has a spare-key is Catherine."

"Catherine did this?"

"Yes, I think so... I'm sorry"

Sara bit her lip. "You don't have to apologise, but... it's just... I think it's... sweet, but I want to keep this a bit... private, you know, I don't want the whole lab to know, and... well, they will find out and... I don't want everyone to know that I'm pregnant, especially... Ecklie..."

"Don't worry about him, if he decides to... take administrative steps... it is our life, we can decide what to do with it, no-one else. Don't worry; it's going to be fine, okay? You just need to get better. We'll see where it will all lead to."

Sara calmed down, He is right, I shouldn't worry, it'll be okay in the end. As long as I stay with him, I'll be fine. I shouldn't care about what the others think, as long as we're happy, and I am happy with him. He's so sweet to me, and I still don't understand why. She smiled at him. "Gris, you're right... I'm sorry, it's just... I'm..."

She swallowed and looked away from him. "I'm... scared." Her strong voice was barely audible.

He sat down close to her and kissed her on her jaw. "Don't worry, I'll be... patient... don't worry, Sara... I'll be there for you."

"It's not that... sorry, I... know that I can trust you. I really know that."

But why is she worrying then? If she trusts me, it's okay, right? Why is she hesitating? "I need to make you some food... I'll be right back." He walked through the door, but came back and looked through the doorway at her. "Make yourself comfortable, don't worry... this is your home too, remember?" He walked away to the kitchen.

I hope you liked this chapter. Please leave a review to me :)