Gil and Sara walked into their hotel room late in the afternoon on Friday the second of September. Looking around, Sara yawned and dropped her backpack on a chair. While Gil checked on his roaches she unzipped their case, rummaged around for some clean clothes and then climbed into the shower, wrinkling her nose at the scent of airplane that clung to her. Minutes later, clean and dressed in her comfy sweats Sara sank onto the bed with a yawn while Gil took his turn cleaning up. Drying off he stretched, his back stiff after their long journey; their two hour connection in Chicago had turned into a five and a half hour layover. Wandering into the bedroom to find Sara he stopped and smiled. She was curled up on the bed, fast asleep. Now twenty-nine weeks pregnant she more often than not needed an afternoon nap, something he found delightfully endearing, and she found supremely irritating. Grinning openly he crawled onto the bed behind her and moulded his body to hers, draping an arm snugly around her torso and holding her close.

...

At eight am the next morning Gil and Sara wandered along the sand at La Jolla Cove, hand in hand, enjoying the cool, overcast morning air.

"It's going to be really hot later," mused Sara, looking out over the ocean.

"Yeah," nodded Grissom, his thumb caressing the back of her hand. They meandered over the sand, heading for the rocks to investigate any tide pools. Sara stood entranced, gazing at a large purple sea star as it slowly moved across an algae ridden rock, her attention riveted on its journey. Gil looked up from his neighbouring pool and smiled when he noted her expression; one that only a phenomenon of nature could induce.

"What have you found," he murmured softly in her ear, sliding an arm around her waist.

"Pisaster ochraceus," said Sara softly, pointing out her star.

"More commonly known as?"

"The Ochre Star or the Purple Sea Star; common to the Pacific waters and can live to approximately twenty years," she replied, still staring into the depths of the pool. "They are also very hardy, which is probably a good thing, because they are popular with tourists."

"I see," said Gil, amused. "Did you learn that on the Sea Shepherd?"

"No," laughed Sara, as they started walking again. "I lived on the beach when I was a kid; it was much better than being in the house. Rufus and I would spend hours scouring the tide pools." Sara grinned at the memory of her scruffy boarder terrier.

"I can just picture that," considered Gil, his lips twitching in amusement.

"I wanted to be a marine biologist for a long time," admitted Sara, as they headed back to the hotel to get breakfast.

"Why did you change your mind?" he asked, openly curious.

"Stanford or UC Berkeley are both in California. I wanted to get out of the state, out of the system. Away from everything."

"Doesn't Harvard have marine biology?"

"Yes, they do. But I wanted to reinvent myself, forget everything that had happened. So I picked physics, my second favourite."

"That's sad honey," mused Gil, his arm tightening around her.

"I was running from my ghosts remember? Besides, I still didn't manage to talk myself out of a biology minor."

"And chemistry," added Gil.

"I took as many classes as I could possibly fit into my schedule. Especially science classes."

"Why?"

"My counsellor said I wouldn't be able to handle it," said Sara, her tone coloured with a touch of defiance.

"And of course you got straight A's," snorted Grissom.

"You bet I did," sniffed Sara, "I became very good friends with the librarians." Knowing all too well how his wife reacted to a challenge, and the fierce determination to prove any and all wrong when questioned, he could just imagine her, all of seventeen and staring down a guidance official over her schedule planning.

"Did you sleep at all?" he teased.

"I averaged twelve to fifteen hours sleep a week if it was a good week. And when I did sleep, I kept my roommate awake."

"Nightmares?"

"Oh yeah. I went through seven roommate's freshmen year because they couldn't handle the screaming."

"Did you stay up on purpose?" asked Gil, suddenly very concerned.

"No," she replied, smiling softly at him.

"How old were you when the insomnia started?" Sara thought back.

"About seven I think."

"Have you ever taken anything for it?"

"Yes. I was hospitalised twice during my junior year for sleep deprivation psychosis. The shrinks there tried to tell me I was depressed, but I'd never been happier. They tried me on an SSRI, which I had a massive allergic reaction to, and then sleeping pills, which knocked me out for two days. I think they were going with trial and error."

"So what did you do in the end?"

"A combination of martial arts, yoga and meditation allowed me to get just enough sleep to get by on. Then I met you," Sara grinned and paused, turning so they were face to face. "You hold me in your arms and whisper in my ear. You make me feel safe and help me chase away the nightmares. You make sleep possible," she said, leaning in to kiss him gently. "I can't explain why, but you do, and I love you all the more for it." Gil cradled her against his chest, kissing her passionately and gently running his fingertips over her back. They pulled apart when a passerby let out a loud and suggestive wolf whistle. Sara giggled as they clasped hands and resumed their walk.

...

After a quiet breakfast, they headed to Balboa Park where they spent the majority of the day getting lost in the Reuben H. Fleet Science Center, the San Diego Natural History Museum and the Museum of Photographic Arts. Late afternoon found them wandering through the peaceful grounds, admiring the flora. Gil stopped to watch Sara line up the perfect shot of an overflowing pot of flowers; his eyes smiling as they took in every detail of her intense concentration, slightly awkward stance as she struggled to balance and lean forward just as she wanted to. Her hair, now down to the bottom of her shoulder blades and longer than she had kept it since sometime between the Forensic Academy Conference and her move to Las Vegas, was haphazardly pulled back into a tantalizingly curly ponytail, and catching the light's rays. He waited quietly for his favourite moment, watching her fiddle with the buttons of the camera. Then, she inhaled and let her breath out slowly, gently pressing the shutter release button. A soft smile spread across her face as the moment encased her in happiness, lighting her face up and Gil felt his heart tug as he resisted the urge to yank her into a tight hug. She straightened and turned to face him, letting the camera rest on its strap around her neck. Catching sight of his expression she grinned bashfully, knowing full well that he had been staring at her. While she found photography incredibly thrilling and therapeutic, Gil found it one of those things where he was able to observe a freely uninhibited Sara; a sight which he was hard to compare, and of which he would never tire of opportunities to view. Moving together, Gil reached up to brush an errant lock of hair back behind her ear, caressing the side of her face tenderly as he leant in to kiss her. As they pulled back he tenderly stroked the side of her face, smoothing a thumb over her lips.

"You are mesmerising," he murmured to her, leaning in for another soft kiss. Fingers linked they started the journey back to the hotel in the car they had hired for the weekend, stopping for dinner at a tiny Mexican restaurant on the way.

...

Back at the Embassy Suites, where the conference was being held, they went up to their room. Sara took the battery out of her camera and slid it into the charger.

"Are you tired?" asked Gil, watching her closely.

"A little, but I feel like swimming, since we missed out yesterday."

"Alright, sounds good to me," he agreed, opening the closet to get their swim suits. The indoor pool was quiet; the lone swimmer was just getting out of the water. He smiled and nodded as he gathered his towel and left. Sara shed her robe and hung it on a peg with her towel. Leaving her sandals underneath she walked over to the steps, wishing she could just dive in and start swimming. After using the restroom, Gil slid into the water and swam over to where Sara was floating on her back in the middle of the pool.

"It's nice and warm," he commented, treading water next to her.

"Hmm," agreed Sara as she rolled onto her front and began slow, steady strokes up and down the pool. Gil followed, alternating between front crawl and breast stroke as he picked up his pace. He watched Sara's face as they approached each other in adjacent lanes. Her eyes were partially closed and her expression was laced with pure joy. He had seen the same expression on her face many times before, always when she was in the water. He wondered briefly if her element was water, then shook his head at his non-scientific folly. Pondering her bliss he swam quietly until it was time to get out. As they towelled off together he asked,

"Why do you enjoy swimming so much? You always look so happy in the water." Sara smiled fondly as she pulled on her robe and wrapped her towel around her dripping hair.

"My dad taught me to swim when I was a little girl. Those are some of my happiest memories from childhood."

"Did you have a pool at the B&B?" asked Gil curiously as they headed back to their room.

"Oh yeah, he loved the water. He had me in a swimsuit as soon as I was old enough. He won a silver medal in the 1500 meter freestyle at the 1964 Olympics in Tokyo."

"Really?" asked Grissom, surprised. "You've never mentioned that before."

"Sorry," replied Sara, shocked. "I had forgotten until you brought it up. I haven't thought about it in years. I think I have his medal in the bottom of my memory box in the closet in Vegas. It was one of the few things I managed to get from the house when the social worker took me into care. I grabbed it because my dad used to tell me his swimming stories when he tucked me into bed at night. I repressed a lot of it when I was in the system. I focused solely on academics and getting away to college as soon as I could. Learning to block everything out helped; I was very aggressive and out of control when I first went into care." As they waited for the elevator to get to their floor Gil wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her temple.

"I'm glad you have some happy memories of you father," he said softly.

"He was wonderful when he wasn't drunk. But when he was..." she shuddered at the thought, "well, you've seen my scars."

"I have," he sighed, taking her hand in his free one and kissing her fingers.

Sara yawned deeply as they walked into their room.

"You need to get some sleep, my dear one," he smiled as he started the shower. "I have a surprise for you in the morning, and we need to get up early for it."

"Oh, what are we doing?" she asked as she peeled off her wet swim suit and stepped into the warm water.

"It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you that," he scolded, stepping in with her. Sara laughed, and handed him the shampoo.

...

...

So sorry the appalling delay; Christmas has been absolutely brutal and exhausting. I'm now on vacation and finally able to do some writing. I hope you enjoyed the latest installment. Please let me know what you think; many thanks, Got Tea?