Grissom woke before Sara that morning, and slipped from underneath the sheets quietly, so as not to disturb her.

He had just opened the bedroom door, and was making his way to the bathroom when he heard a voice behind him.

"You sleep well?" Laura was standing at the small dining table between the kitchen and the living room.

"Uh, yes thank you. Sorry I'm half-naked, though," he said, covering his chest with his clothes and towel.

"I wouldn't worry about it. Is Sara still asleep?"

"Yeah. Um, I know how this looks, and we shared a bed, but we didn't ….".

Laura laughed and straightened slightly. "I know you didn't. Don't worry, just 'cause you come out of that room without a shirt on, doesn't mean a damn thing. Besides," she added, "the way she talks sometimes, I know you're not together."

Grissom's cheeks tinged with red. "I like Sara. She's a wonderful person, a hard and dedicated worker, I'm full of admiration for her, and I'm damn proud of her. And she's told me how she feels, to a certain extent. But …." he trailed off.

"But what?" Laura asked, almost sharp.

"But look at me. I'm too old for her, I probably wouldn't be able to give her what she wants. She deserves someone much better than me."

Laura turned her head slightly. "I think Sara's awake. Look, I know she's here because she has questions to ask me. But I'd like to speak to you as well. I got the feeling there's more you're saying, either about her or yourself."

Grissom nodded, performing one of his little facial tics whereby his mouth would stretch in a grimace and the tendons on his thick neck would stick out. "Okay. I was kind of expecting that. Is it okay if I use the bathroom?"

Laura nodded, and approached the room where her daughter was sleeping.

Taken by the mood, Grissom decided to shave. He had no idea where the instinct to remove his beard came from, but he had been sporting it for almost three years, and he felt like going back the old, smooth days. Besides, he felt more refreshed when he was clean-shaven, and knew he looked younger when hairless.

"My God, Grissom, I didn't think you'd get rid of your beard while we here," Sara gasped as he left the bathroom. She was sitting on the couch facing the back wall of the apartment, and so had a clear view of the bedroom and bathroom doors.

He smiled, taking his clothes back to the bedroom, and Sara promptly followed him. "Did you sleep well?" he asked, folding his clothes and replacing them in the suitcase.

"Yeah, I did thanks. Did you?"

"Uh huh. So, you think being clean-shaven suits me?" He stood, his knees emitting a painful-sound crack.

"See what I mean?" Sara asked, in reference to the sound. "And yes, I do think it suits you. Much better than that facial hair." She folded her arms.

Uh oh, I'm in trouble. "Have I done something?"

Sara sighed. "I try and get angry at you ….".

"You don't try, you do get angry," he interjected, making Sara smile. "What's wrong?"

"My mom said she wanted to talk to you."

"Oh. Do you have a problem with that? She asked me if it was okay to talk, after you've both spoken."

"What will you say?" Despite her confrontational posture, uncertainty clouded her features.

"Hey," Grissom smiled comfortingly, reaching out and rubbing her forearm. "If there's anything you don't want me to say, just tell me."

"I get the feeling what I say, whether or not I want to say it, will mean you don't have to worry."

Grissom frowned. "Huh?"

"Well, whatever you talk about, I'll probably figure into it somehow. What I'm saying is, some things you try to explain may have already been explained by me, whether I want to or not."

"You don't have to say anything you don't want to say," he told her.

"That's the problem. I do. She needs to know what's happened with me."

The corner of Grissom's mouth turned up in sympathy. "I wouldn't worry if I were you. She should probably know that you've been having problems, anyway." When this didn't succeed in consoling Sara, he took her hand. "And anyway, if you want, I can sit there and hold your hand."

"I'd appreciate that."