Sara scowled at her closed and inert laptop on the coffee table as she paced up and down the room in front of the window, repeatedly glancing outside in the hope of seeing her husband returning home. Socks and Romeo, now inseparable, watched her curiously from the couch where they were curled up together. Grissom wasn't late yet, but with her physics article finished and sent in, and her psychology paper stalled until she could get to the library, Sara had nothing substantive enough to occupy herself with until Gil arrived and it was time to go. Irritated with herself that she was getting so worked up, she stalked into the kitchen and scrabbled around for a snack. When the front door opened and her resident Bugman sauntered leisurely in she stood in the kitchen doorway and glared at him.

"Hey honey," he smiled, walking over and kissing her.

"You're late," she said flatly, taking his bag and dumping it on the table for him.

"No I'm not, we don't have to leave for another ten minutes," he soothed, recognizing her crotchety manifestation of nerves. He reached into the cabinet for a glass and filled it with water, his gaze falling on her snack as he pulled away from the sink. "What are you eating?" he asked, inspecting the food. Sara ran a hand through her hair distractedly. It was growing at record rate and curled impossibly, now a couple of inches below her shoulders.

"Oh, um... edamame," she answered distractedly, pulling her hair into the ponytail she currently favoured and Grissom secretly loved.

"Right, but what's on it?" he asked, cautiously sniffing the small dish.

"Peanut butter and ketchup," she replied, taking a mouthful and chewing appreciatively.

"That," he said emphatically, "is disgusting." He grimaced as she finished eating and put the empty bowl into the dishwasher. "And a first," he mused. "You haven't had any other strange desires relating to nutrition have you?" he asked as he followed her to the bedroom.

"No," she shrugged. "And I will admit it sounds awful when you say it, but it tasted beyond amazing."

"Whatever you say dear," said Gil as he changed out of his work attire and into jeans and a shirt. The weather had changed dramatically in the last week and a half; it was now pleasantly warm for most of the day, only requiring a jacket early in the morning and later in the evening. Sara brushed her teeth and grabbed a sports bag from the corner of the room. They walked out to the car, Sara hurrying more than was necessary in her nerves. Gil laughed to himself as he watched her toss the bag in the trunk and jump into the passenger seat. She had to be really nervous if she didn't want to drive, and it was so unlike Sara to be rattled that he found her behaviour endearing. Sliding behind the wheel he reached for her hand and squeezed it gently, before leaning over to give her a soft kiss. When he pulled back she gave him a rueful smile and tried to calm herself as they pulled out onto the road.

...

Twenty minutes later they were walking into the office of Doctor Amira Lenoir. While they waited to be seen, Gil remembered something he had wanted to ask Sara for a while.

"When did you teach Hank to shake hands?"

"I got really bored while you were in Peru," she grinned. "And I had the flu remember, and Catherine banished me from the lab until I got better." Gil laughed, remembering their Skype dates where Sara was so congested they had resorted to ASL to converse in order for him to understand her. "Anyway, there's only so much sleeping a girl can do. So Hank and I found other ways to amuse ourselves. I also spent a lot of time with Archie, learning some new tricks."

"Archie?" asked Gil, raising an eyebrow.

"It was that or Hodges, and I was more interested in computers."

"Point taken."

"Catherine got on my case about overtime, and I had passed my oral exams so I needed something to do."

"How about relaxing?" he suggested. Sara snorted unceremoniously.

"I was sleeping, swimming and running with Hank. I can't sit around and do nothing when you're not home," she admitted. "It's too quiet."

"Oh, sorry dear," he said softly, taking her hand and kissing it.

"It's ok," she grinned at him. "I also taught a seminar on the basic uses of psychology in a forensic setting." Grissom shook his head at her inability to be idle; he had known that she would not sit by when she agreed to some out here with him, but he also knew that she was utterly committed to the care and safety of their baby. The job at the animal centre seemed to be a perfect fit; it was mentally stimulating, it was a cause she believed in, it was not physically taxing or stressful, it did not keep the ridiculous hours of CSI and it was unlikely to take the emotional toll on her that their previous work had. Watching her fidget slightly in her seat next to him, Gil had to admit she had never looked better. She was happy and healthy, both physically and emotionally and it showed in her appearance; and Griss thought to himself that there was just something so sexy and sensual about knowing she was carrying their child. A nurse calling her name jolted him out of his thoughts and he grabbed her hand as she leapt to her feet and lurched forward.

"Relax," he murmured in her ear, "it'll be fine." Her response was to grip his hand tightly as they followed the nurse. After the standard vitals and details they waited for the doctor. Grissom sat on the table with Sara, rubbing her shoulders to try and calm her nerves. When Doctor Lenoir walked in, both of them felt immediately at ease as she smiled at them and greeted them in a rich, smooth voice tinged with a Canadian accent. She examined Sara, talked them through their history, and Sara's medical notes, asked and answered questions. Finally she pulled out a tube of gel and asked Sara to lie back on the table so she could take a look at the baby.

"Will we be able to find out the sex?" asked Grissom, absently playing with Sara's ponytail as they both stared at the screen, waiting for the image to appear.

"Well, it's eighteen weeks so it may be too early, but depending on whether the baby is feeling cooperative, there might be a chance." She moved the scanner around, taking notes and murmuring to herself. "Ok, here's the head and chest, that's an arm, and there's a leg and a foot. There's the other arm and, ok, yes I can tell you the sex." She looked at the couple who were both staring at the screen, their heads bent together in an intimate pose of delight and amazement. With misty eyes Sara pressed her hand to Gil's cheek and stared up at him, lost for words. Griss ran his fingertips over her jaw, his expression of adoration and devotion mirroring hers. Smiling to herself, the doctor switched off the machine and gently wiped the gel away from Sara's stomach while the couple composed themselves. When they were once again seated side by side, Sara leaning slightly into Gil, his arm around her waist, the doctor spoke.

"Everything looks fine at this stage, I see no problems. Keep doing what you're doing, resting, relaxing, plenty of fresh air but don't overdo things. Vitamins, healthy food, and I'll see you again in four weeks. Do you have any questions?" she asked.

"Just one," said Sara.

"Can you tell us," began Grissom. Amira smiled at them.

"It's a girl."

...

Sitting in the car Sara rested her head back against the seat and put a hand over her eyes, overcome with emotion. Gil stared alternately at the pictures in his hands and his wife, his eyes shining with awe.

"Let's skip swimming," suggested Sara. "Let's get some dinner and then go home. We can always go in the morning." Griss grinned and leaned over to kiss her cheek. Three nights a week, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, they went swimming together. It was their favourite method of exercise and one they had set as a routine after initially moving in together. They found a quiet, cosy restaurant and settled into a corner booth. The sat next to each other, rather than their usual opposite, and spread the six pictures in front of them as they ate, marvelling at the clarity of the images and the perfection their love had created. Where they would usually have lingered over their meal, a habit borne of their time in Europe, they left soon after finishing their food, returning to the sanctuary of their bedroom. Curled on the bed together in their pj's they examined the evidence more carefully still, going over every detail the pictures showed them.

"What are you thinking?" he asked as she lay curled with her head on his chest.

"That this is so unreal, that I'm so happy I don't know what to do with myself, and that I'm more terrified than I have ever been in my life." Gil placed gentle kisses in her hair, shifting so they were lying facing each other.

"I feel exactly the same," he confessed. "What are you afraid of?" he stroked her arm as she closed her eyes, searching for words.

"That I'm going to do something wrong. That something will happen. That I'll lose her." Sara's voice caught on her last word. "We know now," she whispered, "and that makes all the difference. It was awful before, losing a child, two children. But now we have a daughter. We've seen her face, in remarkable detail, and I'm terrified that something will happen and we'll lose her and never get to meet her. I've always been afraid of turning into my mother, but I want this little girl so much and I know that I would never be capable of doing anything to harm her. But I'm petrified my body won't be able to hold onto her." Her expression was so anguished that Gil felt his heart ache deeply. He had no trouble believing that Sara would be a wonderful mother, and he had seen the torment in her eyes after both miscarriages. She was right, this time it was different; they knew they were having a girl and they had images they hadn't had before. He knew they were both irrevocably attached to this child, both because of what they knew and had seen about her, but also because of their previous losses.

"I'm afraid too," he murmured, "and for the same reasons. But also because I nearly lost you in the desert, and because I had to watch you suffer the aftermath without being able to help you. And because I was there both times in Europe, and I saw how ill you were in France when you had the surgery. I want her more than anything too, but I'm scared stiff of what could happen to you." He swallowed and Sara put a hand on his chest, her index finger tracing his collar bone. They stared at each other, reading each other's thoughts through their eyes.

"I think," said Gil slowly, "that we need to look at all the positives here. We're a week and a day safer that last time, and the doctor told us not three hours ago that everything looks fine, and she can see no problems." He took her hand, linking their fingers. Sara took a deep, calming breath. It was not like her to lose her rationality. She scowled internally to think that hormones were getting the better of her cool, collected scientific mind.

"You're right, I'm sorry," she sighed, kissing his fingers.

"I think we're both entitled to feel a little out of our depth here," he mused, as she rolled into him for a cuddle.

"Yes, and we know what we're supposed to be doing and we've already been doing it," she sighed, snuggling into him.

"Diet, vitamins, gentle exercise, relaxation, rest," he grinned at the last one and pulled the bed covers up and over them. "An early night never hurt anyone." Sara smiled and kissed him softly before nestling close to him and closing her eyes.