A/N: I was so excited to get all the wonderful feedback on the first chapter! You guys rock! I hope you enjoy this one just as much. :)

"Can I get you another drink, miss?"

Grissom looked up to see the flight attendant addressing Sara, who was staring intently out the window.

"Miss?"

When Sara still did not respond, Grissom put a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Sara?"

"Hm?" she murmured, jerked out of her stupor. He nodded towards the attendant, who was waiting expectantly. Sara shook her head politely.

"No, thanks."

She turned her gaze towards the wispy clouds streaming past the plane. Grissom moved his hand from her shoulder to her knee, and although she put her own hand on top of his, she kept her gaze held steady.

"See any birds?"

She turned towards him with a look of confusion.

"Made you look," he teased.

She smiled briefly before stopping short, replacing the shy grin with her prior look of anxiety, as if it wasn't okay to be happy.

"And now I made you smile," he said, nudging her. "Sara. Are you all right?"

She took a deep breath before meeting his gaze again.

"Yeah," she answered. "I'm just… I don't know how I feel about this."

"Going home?" he offered. "The funeral? Me coming with you?"

Sara paused before answering.

"All of the above," she replied.

"Did I make a mistake, honey?" he asked. "Coming here with you? Is this something you wanted to do by yourself?"

This time, Sara didn't hesitate at all.

"No," she said. "No. I… I'm glad you're here. I couldn't… I couldn't do it without you."

She squeezed his hand and he offered her a smile, which she didn't return.

"I just… I wanted to keep you as far away from this part of my life as possible," she finally admitted. "And this… this is just dragging you right into the heart of it."

"Sara," he said, firmly, but gently. "Honey. I want to be here for you for all the times, good and bad. You have to know that nothing could ever make me leave you."

This time, Sara's smile was genuine.

"I know," she said softly.

She intertwined her fingers with his, and dropped her gaze to look at their joined hands.

"I'm really glad you're here."

"Me too, honey."

He leaned across the armrest to kiss her as the seatbelt signed lit up and dinged from above them.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are preparing for descent," came the captain's voice. "Please fasten your seatbelts and flight attendants, prepare for landing."

Grissom finished his kiss and Sara held his gaze as they pulled apart.

"Gil?"

"Hm?"

"Will you tell me if I—this… ever gets too much?"

He stared at her, and after a few moments, she began to squirm under his gaze. Eventually, finally, he broke the silence as he swallowed several times to keep his ears from popping.

"Why do you still think that you're never good enough?"

She stared at him back.

"I… what?"

"Sara, I love you," he pressed. "Rough childhood, workaholic tendencies, blanket-stealing habits and all."

She closed her eyes and smiled briefly.

"I'm here to help you through this, and I'll be here for whatever comes next," he continued. "You will never be too much for me. I'm just lucky to have you."

She nodded, vigilantly fighting back tears and leaning in to kiss him to keep them from falling out. They broke away and he kept his hand lingering on her face, swallowing hard.

"Ears popping?" she guessed.

"Like mad."

"Try this."

She reached into her carry-on and extracted a stick of Juicy Fruit gum, handing it to him. He unwrapped it from its tin foil cover and stuck the piece in his mouth, half of it hanging out. He wiggled his eyebrows at her. She rolled her eyes in response, but leaned over to bite off the other half, not escaping before receiving another kiss.

"You're a dork," she teased affectionately. "But I love you."

They were both jerked back into their seats as the airplane's wheels touched the ground of the runway. Immediately aware that she was back in her home state, Sara took a deep breath before nodding reassuringly at him and pulling her carry-on from beneath the seat in front of her.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to San Francisco. Current temperature is seventy degrees and local time is five p.m. Thank you for flying with us today."

Grissom stepped around the older woman occupying the aisle seat to retrieve his own bag from the overhead bin, and they patiently waited to disembark the plane. Having checked no baggage, they made their way through the international airport to the car rentals, where they were to have a car waiting for them. Standing in line outside the rental agency, Grissom's eyes scanned the surroundings.

"You know, the last time I was here was the first time we met," he said, squeezing her hand. "Maybe we should stay a few extra days. Visit the bridge… have some déjà vu."

"We should," she agreed. "But maybe not this time. I don't think I'm… not this time."

Grissom squeezed his agreement, and several minutes later, they were handed the keys to a red sedan. They tossed their bags in the back seat and bickered for a beat over who was to drive. Eventually, with Sara behind the wheel and Grissom seated only somewhat disgruntled in the passenger's seat, they were off.

They began the journey in silence, but a comfortable one, with their hands interlocked and resting on the glove compartment. When they began a conversation, it was easy and light, joking about everything from Nick's new haircut to Greg's newest wacky shirt. It was good to see her laugh. As long as Sara was smiling, Grissom was happy.

Eventually, quiet took over again and the smile faded just a little from Sara's face.

Grissom squeezed her fingers in their still-intertwined hands.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," she confirmed. "Yeah. I'm just thinking how lucky I am to have all of you."

"All?"

"Don't worry, you're still number one," she joked. "But Nick, Greg, Warrick… Catherine. I don't know what I'd do without them."

Grissom smiled at her and studied her face, lit from behind by the setting sun.

"Asking you to come to Vegas was the best thing I ever did."

She smiled back at him.

"We're here."

They pulled into the small motel, about twenty minutes outside Tamales Bay and only ten from where the funeral service was to be held the next morning. It was brightly painted, with several people strolling around the property. They made their way to the office with their bags, checked in, and settled into room one hundred twenty-four.

"So," Grissom said as he pulled his phone out of the bag for the first time and switched it on. "What do you feel like doing? We can go out for dinner… or order room service and eat in."

Sara was about to answer as Grissom's phone went berserk – ringing constantly with missed calls, voicemails and texts. He looked at her apologetically, but she only smiled in response.

"Check 'em," she said. "I don't mind."

"I'm shutting it off."

"You should listen to them," she insisted. "They might be important."

He hit the power down button and the phone vibrated off. He held it up for her to see.

"Done."

"Gil-"

"Sara," he cut her off, stepping over to her. "All I care about this weekend is you. Everything else can wait."

She leaned into him and he wrapped his arms around her and sighed into her hair. All was right when he was holding Sara.

"I wish this were a real vacation," she murmured into his chest. "And not…"

"I know," he said. "But sometime soon, I'm going to take you on a real vacation. Somewhere tropical."

"Promise?"

"Absolutely."

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled at her gently.

"So what do you feel like doing?" he asked. "Going out or staying in?"

"I know we just got here, and we should go out… but I really… is it okay if we just stay in?"

"Of course," he said immediately.

"Are you sure?"

"Sara, seriously, whatever you feel like doing is okay by me."

"Okay," she whispered, giving him quick pecks of kisses. "Thank you."

"C'mon, let's pick what we want."

He led her by the hand to the bed (already stripped of its top cover – Sara couldn't stand the thought of using the most likely unwashed comforter) where she cuddled into him, her head on his shoulder, as they looked at the room service menu. They decided upon baked lasagna (vegetarian) for Sara and a chicken primavera for Grissom, who called in the order with a bottle of wine.

"They don't make men like Humphrey Bogart any more."

Grissom raised an eyebrow at her and scooped another bite of chicken into his mouth. Sara's gaze stayed fixed on "Casablanca" playing in black and white on their screen, but he knew she saw him. She sipped her wine and laughed.

"Except you, dear," she covered quickly. "But you're more… James Dean, anyways."

"What about Roy Rogers?"

"You don't look anything like Roy Rogers, honey," she laughed. "Just because you have part ownership of his horse…"

"Hey, don't tease Trigger," he warned. "His certificate of ownership is one of my most prized possessions."

This time, Sara raised her brow.

"Except you, dear. Of course."

She leaned in to kiss him, and around her arm, he stabbed a bite of lasagna onto his fork.

"Gil Grissom, are you using my kiss to sneak food?" she accused him.

"Of course not," he countered, changing the fork's course mid-air and directing it towards her mouth. "For you."

"Uh huh."

She accepted the bite and a second kiss from him and pushed the almost-empty plate of lasagna off her lap. She removed the empty plate of chicken from his lap, and replaced herself with it, settling herself between his legs and leaning back into his chest. He ran his fingers lightly down her arms and she rested her head in the crook between his neck and shoulder.

"Are you ready for tomorrow?" he asked softly.

"I think so," she sighed. "This may sound horrible, but I just want to get it over with and put it behind me."

"That doesn't sound horrible, Sara, that sounds perfectly natural."

"I apologize in advance if I'm a wreck tomorrow," she said, half-joking.

"You'll be fine," he assured her.

"I know," she said, tilting her head a little so she could look at him. "Because I have you."

She wiggled around a little so that she was sitting facing him, her legs straddling his lap and her hands cupping his face.

"I know I said this on the plane, but I'm really glad you're here," she said.

"I'm glad too, Sara."

Slowly, she closed the distance between their lips and began to kiss him, slowly at first, but quickly becoming more and more urgent with each kiss. She slid her hands around his neck and put her fingers into his hair, and he did the same, pushing her gently closer, pressing her against him. Her fingers caressed his hair and moved to his cheeks, down his chest, and to the buttons of his shirt. She started working on them, but he broke apart before she could reach the second one down.

"Sara," he breathed. "Are you sure you want this? Now?"

"Yes," she moaned back, her lips on his neck.

Despite a familiar, low rumbling deep in his belly, he had to pull away once more.

"But Sara-"

"Shut up and kiss me, Gil."

He chuckled and couldn't argue with that. He kissed her, kissed her until his lips were almost numb. Then he started exploring.

He pushed the hem of her top up higher and higher until he pulled it over her head and completely off her body. He put two firm hands on her waist and flipped her around, so that she was lying on her back on the mattress. He ran both his hands down her sides, leaving goose bumps in their wake on her skin. He smiled. There was nothing he loved more than exploring and loving every inch of the woman laying before him.

Clothes were discarded, 'I love yous' were whispered and moans were uttered. Their lovemaking was much like their previous kisses – slow at first, then urgent and needy. But as always, it was full of tender romance and love. As "Casablanca's" credits rolled, they laid together, skin pressed against skin, one of Grissom's hands atop Sara's on his chest, the other lightly playing with her hair.

"Hey, honey?" he whispered, unsure if she'd fallen asleep.

"Hm?"

"I love you very much."

Despite the dark, he knew she was smiling. If he could make her fall asleep with a smile on her face each night, he'd be a happy man.

TBC!