Thank you sooooo much to all my readers and reviewers. You guys are great and you're why I keep writing. I love knowing someone is enjoying my muse.

This chapter is the why this story is rated M. I tried to keep as much of this chapter as I could , but to be honest, I definitely hacked off a lot so that it could comply with this website. The entirety of the chapter is posted at Geekfiction and my own live journal site (which is my homepage). So if you want to read the "real" version, head on over there and check it out.

Thanks again guys. MWUAH! I love you!

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Chapter Four: Neither Wealth, Nor Splendor

Grissom's heart pounded in his ears and he neither saw nor heard a thing as he made a beeline to his office. He needed a place to think.

Catherine intercepted him as he walked past the break room. He didn't stop as she shouted his name, so she caught up with him in his office.

"Jim just called and told me about the tow truck service," she said as she sat down in front of his desk.

He rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Yeah. That was pretty much a bust."

Catherine shook her head and sat down. He looked at her face and found unmistakable worry and fatigue. "Maybe someone else should try and talk to Natalie," she tried and Grissom put his head in his hands. He wasn't in the mood to brainstorm with anyone. He just wanted to be left to himself to think and stare at the mini crime scene Natalie had left him.

"By all means, have at it," he muttered behind his hands.

"I just don't get it. Why would she have them tow it to an abandoned warehouse? It doesn't make any sense. How did she get it to the desert?"

"My guess is she used more than one tow truck service to throw us off. We just haven't found the other one. The other ones even," he replied, throwing his hand in the air in frustration and letting it hit his desk hard.

"And Nick and Warrick are still behind that?"

"Nick, Warrick, and Greg. It's really all we have right now. Now that the rain and wind are dying down we need to get the helicopters in the air," he said tiredly and pinched the bridge of his nose in pain.

He was developing a migraine and he needed his medicine. But it was at home. He suddenly remembered—Bruno. He had no idea when the last time he had been outside or fed. He needed to do that. But the dog was at home.

He couldn't go there. He wasn't sure how he would handle being surrounded by her. He looked up at Catherine and debated asking her to do it. She would get empirical evidence that he and Sara were intimately involved, that was for sure.

But none of that mattered.

"Catherine, I need a favor…" He hesitated for a moment and opened his mouth, only to close it again.

"Gil…?"

"I need you to go to my place and get me my migraine medicine. It's in the medicine cabinet in my bathroom. It's the only prescription bottle in there."

"Oh. Okay."

"And… I need you to let my dog outside and feed him."

Her eyes widened slightly and he could tell she wanted to question him about the dog. She had no idea that he had a dog. For that matter, she had no idea he had Sara. He hoped she wouldn't ask. It wasn't a story he cared to get into at the moment.

"Sure."

He was relieved that she didn't try to alleviate her own natural curiosity at that moment. He felt thankful and he gave a weak smile.

"Thank you, Catherine. I really appreciate it." He was certain she knew he was thanking her for more than one thing.

"You're welcome," she said quietly and stood from the chair. She looked reluctant to talk for a moment, but finally turned around when she reached the door frame. "Gil… I think maybe it would be a good idea if you went home yourself. Took a little break."

He stood and shook his head. "I can't Catherine. No." Is she insane?, he thought.

"It might feel good to change clothes. When is the last time you ate?"

"Catherine, please." He paused and sighed, not wanting to get sharp with her. "You need my key." He took the key off of his key ring and placed it in her outstretched hand. "Bruno's leash and food are in the pantry." Her lips pressed together and she gave a sad nod. She turned to go and he placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her. She looked up at him in question and he hung his words back a moment. "I think... once you get there…you'll understand better why I didn't want to go home myself." He gave her eyes a quick glance before starting down the hallway to Conrad Ecklie's office.

It was true. Catherine would have no doubt about his and Sara's relationship status once she entered his, their, home. Sara was all over the place. Her favorite foods were in his refrigerator, his cabinets. Her clothes were in his dresser, his closet. Her shoes were by the door. Her picture in his office. A purple throw blanket was folded neatly on the arm of his couch. It was hers.

One of his fondest memories had its start on that couch. He had thankfully bought a brand new couch only a month or so since him and Sara started spending time together. It was more inviting and comfortable, a favorite investment of his now. Many nights had been spent curled up on that couch watching a movie or reading.

But one memory always sprung to mind when he thought of that couch. One night in particular. He had invited Sara for lunch and a movie. After lunch, they sat on the couch and her head eventually found its way to his shoulder. His arm to her waist. He couldn't really remember how, but Sara had ended up fast asleep, her head and left hand resting innocuously on his left thigh. She lay on her side, her legs curled up adorably on the plump, dark blue couch cushions.

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"Quaking leaves and broken light

Shifting skin, the coming night

The bearers of all good things arrive

Climb inside us, twist and cry

A kiss on your molten eyes"

"Those to Come" (The Shins)

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Grissom muted the TV as the credits rolled. He listened to Sara breathing. It was soft and steady and he knew she was fast asleep. She had been for a while and really, he had been paying more attention to that than the movie.

He turned the TV off and relaxed. He was getting used to this—having Sara close. They had been spending a lot of time together for the past three weeks, ever since he had invited her to that play. It hadn't taken Grissom long to discover that he had truly been an idiot to keep it from happening sooner. They had shared more than a few kisses. Some heated, some not, but nothing more. They hadn't even talked about anything too serious yet.

But Grissom couldn't deny his desire for her—there was just no point.

He sighed and rested his left hand on her hip, feeling her mellow breathing. In and out, in and out. The only light in the cool room was provided by the dimming sun. The only sound provided by her breathing and the whir of the ceiling fan above them.

It was a beautifully peaceful and quiet moment and Grissom couldn't remember the last time he felt so at ease, which was odd for him because he always thought he would be awkward and unsure of having her in his home. Be that as it may, he really was relaxed. This is the definition of tranquility, he thought. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, just content to touch and listen to her. He truly couldn't remember the last time something or someone had offered him this much tranquility.

He wasn't sure how much time passed, but Sara inevitably stirred. He opened his eyes and lifted his head to look at her. Sara turned her body so that she was laying flat on her back, gazing up at him with heavy eyes. The hand that had been resting on her hip had made it way to her stomach and she smiled sheepishly up at him, placing her hand overtop his.

"I fell asleep," she stated seriously

"Yes. You did."

"Sorry," she laughed adorably.

"Don't be," he said, still gazing down at her lovingly.

After a moment of staring, Sara lifted herself and leaned over awkwardly to kiss him. Her hand moved over his beard as she pulled him closer and he couldn't help the moan that escaped his throat as she ran her tongue over his bottom lip. He squeezed her hips as she deepened the kiss even more. All of a sudden, Sara let out a low chuckle and he pulled back.

"What?" he asked breathlessly.

She shook her head and laughed. "This is kind of uncomfortable." He narrowed his eyes in confusion and she continued, "I'm twisting my spine is ways I didn't know I could…"

"Oh."

She smirked and lifted herself, straddling him. She lowered herself so that she made contact with his hardening erection. He closed his eyes and his head fell back on the headrest of its own volition.

She leaned into his ear and whispered low and seductively, "There. That's better."

He kissed her hungrily as his hands slid up and down her thighs. She grinded against him and whimpered erotically and he couldn't help bucking into her. Her lips broke from his and she began planting slow kisses down his bearded jaw line. She found his pulse point and gave it a wet kiss. Grissom began dragging his fingers lightly underneath her shirt and up her sides. He was rewarded when she shivered and grinded against him harder.

He half moaned, half grunted. "My, um…" he swallowed, "My bedroom is…" She kissed a sensitive spot below his ear. "Oh, God," he whispered and she gave giggle. "A ten second trip at most."

She took his earlobe between her teeth and tugged lightly. He sucked in a sharp breath and she giggled again, a low sultry giggle that sent a jolt of electricity from the top of his spin to his groin.

"Okay, fine. The bedroom it is," she whispered into his ear and extracted herself from him. His body craved hers immediately as she broke contact and stood up before him.

He stared at her for a moment, unable to move. Her hair was slightly disheveled—adorably so. Her eyes seemed dark with a strange quality about them that he had never seen before. This was Sara Sidle aroused and it was captivating. She lifted his heavy hand and tugged.

"Come on, handsome," she said quietly with a curious smirk.

Her voice also had that strange, aroused quality to it. He doubted very seriously that he would be able to hear it again without growing hard. At least not for a while.

He stood up beside her and pulled her to him, kissing her hard. She pulled back with a crooked smile.

"Bedroom, remember?"

He nodded and she walked backwards, pulling him along. He didn't take his eyes from hers the entire trip down the hallway and to his room.

Finally, they reached the dark bedroom and as soon as they crossed the threshold, Grissom pulled her to him. His hands clawed through her hair as his lips slid slowly and lusciously over hers. He heard her whimper and he began unbuttoning the dark blue blouse she was wearing. She tucked her hands under the band of his jeans and she pulled him closer as his lips trailed down her neck and in between her breasts, planting sweet kisses. He pulled the shirt off of her completely to expose a simple black bra. He pulled back to look at her. Hair was falling over her face and he brushed it back, revealing a shy smile.

"You are so incredibly beautiful. You know that?" he sighed and kissed her tenderly. "You have to know that."

She lifted his shirt over his head and threw it down. "So are you," she whispered back. "In so many ways."

He gave a crooked smile at the unexpected response and she pulled him with her as she began backing up towards the bed.

He walked with her and made quick work of his clothing, save his boxers, as she sat on the edge of the bed, peeling off her socks slowly. She chuckled at him and silenced her, pushing her down on the mattress, his lips hard on hers.

Physically, Grissom couldn't remember the last time he had felt this much pleasure—if he ever had. It was intense and beautifully overwhelming.

Emotionally, he was unprepared and incapable of cataloguing what he was feeling. He knew that he had never made love. He had never been in love. But if there existed a doubt that he was in love with Sara, the doubt vanquished the moment they came together.

When they were sweaty and sated, Grissom lay down beside her on his side, as close to her as he could possibly get. She turned her head to look at him.

"Grissom…"

"Hmmm?" He swept the locks of hair off her face.

She inhaled and exhaled dramatically and shook her head. A short laugh released itself from her throat as she stared at the ceiling. Grissom smiled and chuckled with her. He couldn't put it into words and neither could she and really… he didn't want to try.

"Yeah," he said quietly and gave her a gentle kiss.

He laid on his back and pulled her to him. She gave a satisfied sigh as he dragged his fingers up and down her arm affectionately. Eventually, Sara fell asleep on his chest, but Grissom couldn't. He kissed her forehead and listened contentedly as she breathed in and out, in and out, evenly.

He had been wrong before. This was the definition of tranquility.

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Indeed, Sara was everywhere. Her shampoo was in his shower, her lotion on his sink. His 800 thread count sheets smelled just like her. Even on his side of the bed.

Normally, it would be a comfort to him. Right now, it would only serve to drive him off the deep end. The idea of being completely surrounded by her but having not knowing where she was ironically miserable and frustrating. But he didn't let himself believe for a moment that he would never again feel that tranquility he felt when she was curled up next to him, asleep and content. Not for a moment.

To Be Continued…