A/N – Okay, another short one. Let me know what you think. Please review.

Disclaimer – Germs suck. I have gone from the flu to a cold, and don't care if I get sued right now.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Feeling the slurping tongue on his face, Grissom rolled away and groaned, "For God's sake Hank, give me a break." He muttered a few choice words, but his eyes seemed to open of their volition. On a sigh, he pushed himself up, hating the fact he was one of those people who once awake had to move.

He smiled, though, when he thought of a waking Sara. When she actually slept, she'd generally groan when the alarm went off, then try to cover her head with the blankets. The death grip hold would turn into a contest of wills as he tried to pull them down and she started moaning her discontent and yanking them back up.

Even when he'd wake her with his hands and mouth on her, she'd wake slowly. More than once, she woke with his name on her lips in a aching whimper.

Deciding to get ready for the day, he showered and picked up his razor. Smiling, he decided to forego the shave. While she didn't generally like it when he let his beard get thick, she loved it when she kept it trimmed close. He loved her reaction when he purposely raked it across her sensitive flesh.

Grabbing a yogurt from the fridge, he laughed. He'd never been fond of the stuff, but Sara had converted him. Plunking down on the couch, he grabbed his cell phone off the coffee table, and hit number one on the speed dial. She picked up on the second ring.

"Hello, Gilbert," she said, a laugh in her voice.

Smiling, he replied, "Hello to you too, honey."

"I miss you," she murmured, before more strongly saying, "It's been an interesting couple of days."

"Tell me about it," he prompted, and heard her sigh. For a moment, he thought she was going to withdraw again and start to say she was fine, but finally she spoke.

"I saw Laura again yesterday. I know I've been visiting with her off and on since I got here, but we never spoke of anything of consequence. Yesterday, she pulled out a photo album, with all these pictures of me as a child."

He could hear the tears forming in her voice, and could imagine them spilling.

As if reading his mind, she laughed, "I've turned into a watering pot. I seem to cry a lot when the mood strikes." With a soft voice, she said, "The pictures – I didn't realize they existed. In them, I'm smiling." Her voice was a bare whisper when she said, "I didn't realize I knew how to smile, Gil. I didn't know there was ever a time that happiness was part of our home."

Wishing more than anything that he could walk through the phone and just hold her, Grissom ached. He hated knowing she had to deal with this. He may have understood why she needed to meet this head-on in her own way; it didn't stop him from wanting to just bring her home, where he could wrap her up and keep her safe.

"You said you wanted a day to think about what you'd learned," he prompted. Trying to find the right words, he finally asked, "Did it help?"

He heard her blow her nose on the other end, right before he heard the quiet overtake her. It amazed him that he could feel her mind working, searching for just the right words, even from that far away. His wife had always radiated her emotions. Sometimes, others on the team felt them – often they missed them. However, Grissom could always feel her emotions or mood. She emitted pulses that he sensed with every wave.

"I used to love them," she suddenly whispered into the silence. With a sniff, she continued, "I didn't remember loving them, but there must be dozens of pictures of my father holding me as a child. He seemed so happy, having me ride on his shoulders. And there are several pictures of him reading to me." On a soft sob, she quietly added, "There's a picture of him dancing with me in the front parlor. My feet were on his. I was five."

Her tone dropped, when she said, "I remembered. When I saw the picture, I remembered. For just a moment, I remembered that it wasn't always hitting." He heard her hiccupping, trying to hold back tears, on the other end, and knew he had no words to help. Instead, he sat and listened, and tried to count her tears from so far away. He couldn't stop this from happening, but he could promise himself to give her comfort when he saw her.

Minutes ticked by, and Grissom listened to the silence, imagining the look on her face. When her voice firmly announced, "No, I'm not going to cry over this," as if she had any control over it, he smiled.

"God, Gil," she whispered, "I feel lost one moment, and then I talk to you, and I feel alive."

"I would give anything for you to not have to feel all of this, sweetheart," he murmured into his cell phone. His tone dropped a touch, when he said, "I'd give anything to just be able to touch you and take you away from it all, even for a moment."

"There are days I want to just come home," she confessed, and added in a stronger tone, "I have to do this, though. I can't keep living my life in the shadows. I'm tired of always hiding."

That tenor of steel in her voice made him smile. "You're the strongest woman I've ever met, Sara," he said. He knew she hated compliments, and could imagine the slight frown settle over her face. She would feel awkward and unsure of how to respond to something she herself did not believe. Deciding to distract her, he smiled and said, "Plus, you're really hot in shorts and a tank top."

The sudden burst of laughter on the other end of the line brought a smile to Grissom's face. When it faded to chuckles, and from chuckles to a settled quiet, Sara said, "Tell me more about the case you were working on – the one with the tourists."

So Grissom told her about a young, happy couple and their marriage. He described the stalker, and how he followed them from their hometown, and killed the happy couple and the bride's sister, a Vegas resident. She could hear the tinge of sadness in his voice, when he talked of the witnesses and how they described the couple.

"It's cases like this, and cases with kids, that I really hate," Grissom said. "They were happy, with a full life ahead of them. They'll never have kids, never go on vacation again, or spend time with family again. Their families will miss them every day. That's the kind of people they were."

"I'm so sorry, Gil," Sara murmured. For now, the shoe was on the other foot. While he talked more about the young couple and the chase to catch their killer, she listened, and imagined his face in the retelling. She could see him rubbing his eyes, as if to wipe away any visual history stored there. When his voice dropped, he could see the fatigue he'd felt while the case was underway. In the quiet that followed, she could see his mind trying to box it all up and put it on a shelf – to disassociate from it so it didn't drag him down.

"You know I love you, Gil," Sara said quietly, "Don't ever forget that, baby."

Smiling, he replied, "I love you, too."

Glancing up at the clock, he grimaced. "I have to go," he said. Looking at Hank waiting piteously beside the door, his leash hanging out of his mouth, Grissom laughed and said, "Besides being an alarm clock, Hank is learning how to walk himself." She was laughing along with him after he described the continuation of the pre-buzz slurp each day, and Hank now grabbing his own leash off the dresser every night before heading to the sitter.

"Just a couple of weeks, honey," Grissom murmured.

"I still miss you," she sighed, a smile in her voice, "and I can't wait to see you."

Quick goodbyes said, Grissom tried not to roll his eyes as the dog bound over, dropped the leash on his lap, and patiently sat, wagging his tail. Laughing, he and the dog head out for their daily walk. He kept thinking Two more weeks and smiled.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N – Please, be kind and give me a review. It might make my cold go away – you never know.