The next day, Sara made her first appointment with the doctor. She had always avoided doctors when it came to herself, but now she needed the reassurance. The pregnancy test had confirmed what she already suspected, but hearing it from a professional made it feel more real — more daunting.
Grissom insisted on going with her. It was non-negotiable. He didn't say much during the appointment, just stood by her side, his presence a quiet anchor. He knew this was a big moment for her, and he wouldn't leave her to face it alone.
The doctor was kind, her words gentle as she spoke to Sara about the early stages of pregnancy, what to expect, and what Sara could do to take care of herself and the baby. As Sara listened, she felt the weight of the situation settling more deeply into her chest.
"This is real," Sara whispered to Grissom as they left the office, her hand gripping his tightly.
Grissom smiled, squeezing her hand in return. "I know it feels overwhelming. But we'll take it one day at a time. Just like you said."
A few days later, Sara found herself back at the lab, sitting with Catherine in the break room, the door shut to give them privacy. The team had all been told, but Sara still felt the need to chat to Catherine — to make sure she understood how much it meant to her to have her support.
"I don't know what the next step is," Sara said, her voice quiet but firm. "But I do know that I can't do this alone."
Catherine, her eyes softening as she listened, took a step closer. "You won't have to, Sara. You have Grissom, and you have me. You've always been strong, but it's okay to let people in. You don't have to carry it all on your own anymore."
Sara felt the knot in her chest loosen, her shoulders relaxing. "Thank you, Cath. It's just… a lot. But knowing that I'm not alone makes all the difference."
Catherine smiled warmly, pulling Sara into a brief hug. "You never were, Sidle. And you never will be."
Sara returned the hug, her heart a little lighter than it had been before. She wasn't sure what the future held, but for the first time, it didn't feel as terrifying. With Grissom by her side, and the support of her team, she was ready to take the next step — no matter how big or small.
Sara sat on the edge of the exam table, the thin paper beneath her crinkling with every nervous shift of her body. She was three months along now — far enough that the doctor had suggested a dating scan to check on the baby's development.
Grissom sat in the chair beside her, hands folded in his lap, but his eyes never left her. He could see the tension in her — the way she bit her bottom lip, the way her fingers picked at the seam of her jeans.
"You okay?" he asked softly.
Sara gave a tight, almost embarrassed smile. "I've done autopsies with less anxiety than this."
Grissom chuckled under his breath, reaching for her hand. "You're not a specimen, Sara."
"I feel like one," she whispered.
Before he could reply, the doctor returned, wheeling in the ultrasound machine. "Alright, let's take a look."
Sara lay back, pulling up her shirt, exposing her still-flat stomach. The cold gel made her flinch, but it was nothing compared to the jolt she felt when the screen flickered to life — and there it was.
A tiny shape. A fluttering heartbeat.
Grissom squeezed her hand, his voice reverent. "That's… that's our baby."
Sara swallowed hard. She'd read the books. She'd seen a thousand medical scans. But this was hers. The faint thrum of a heartbeat filled the room — strong and steady.
The doctor smiled. "Everything looks perfect. Would you like a printout to take home?"
Sara nodded numbly, her throat tight with emotion. She glanced at Grissom, seeing his eyes glassy, just like hers.
As they left the office later, Sara paused on the sidewalk, looking down at the small black-and-white printout in her hand.
"It's real now," she said.
Grissom wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. "It was real the moment I knew it was you carrying them."
A week later, they began house-hunting — a task that quickly became more comedy than progress.
The first place was a dark, damp apartment downtown. The ceiling fan wobbled precariously with every rotation.
"I think it's either going to fall on us… or lift off like a helicopter," Sara deadpanned.
The second was bizarrely decorated — every wall a different neon color, the carpet a psychedelic swirl of patterns. Grissom muttered something about sensory overload and bolted after ten minutes.
By the end of the day, they sat in Grissom's car, exhausted, their hands linked between them.
"This is hopeless," Sara sighed.
A month later, Grissom got a call from an old colleague who worked at UNLV, he had bumped into the man briefly before Sara's lecture, and he was asking if Grissom would be interested in taking a few lectures in the near future. He was an older professor and mentioned was retiring and moving out of state.
"Actually… I haven't listed it yet," the professor said. "But if you want to come by, I'd rather sell it to someone who'll appreciate it."
From the moment they stepped inside, it felt different.
The entryway opened to a small lounge — perfect for a reading nook or an office. Extra closet space lined one wall, enough for storage and baby things.
A wide staircase curved downward into a sunken living space with built-in oak bookshelves lining the walls. The sitting area was warm and inviting — a space that felt like home.
Off to the side was the heart of the apartment — a huge open-plan kitchen with beautifully crafted oak countertops, a large island in the center perfect for meals, working, or gathering.
To the right, a spacious master bedroom with its own en suite bathroom. Across the hall, another smaller bedroom — the perfect nursery.
And tucked away under the stairs — a door leading to a lower-level workspace. Grissom was already eyeing it for his specimen collection and entomology projects.
Sara wandered the space in quiet awe, her fingertips trailing over the woodwork, the bookshelves, the counters.
"It's perfect," she whispered.
Grissom came up behind her, resting his hands on her hips. "It's ours — if we want it."
She turned to face him, eyes shining with something close to peace.
"I want it," she said. "I want all of this. With you."
The new apartment already felt like a fresh start.
Sara stood in the middle of the open-plan kitchen, barefoot on the polished wood floor, paint flecks dusting her arms. Grissom was nearby, unpacking books into the built-in shelves that lined the downstairs sitting area, glancing up every so often to watch her.
"This was a good find," she admitted, looking around at the soft natural light pouring in through the large windows. It wasn't just a place to live — it felt like theirs.
He smiled softly. "It suits you. Room to breathe. Room to grow."
Her hand instinctively dropped to the slight swell of her stomach — six months along and finally showing enough that Grissom's hand often wandered there without thought.
They worked together in easy silence — arranging books, pinning up photographs, and debating over paint samples for the nursery. It wasn't a space they'd expected to be creating so soon, but Grissom's quiet excitement made her ache with affection.
"You know…" he said, holding up a photo of a beetle display from one of his old offices, "this could go in the baby's room."
Sara snorted. "Absolutely not."
He chuckled. "Didn't think so."
Later that weekend, the team arrived — Catherine, Nick, Warrick, and Greg — each with housewarming gifts that ranged from practical to absurd.
Greg brought a lava lamp.
Catherine brought an enormous basket of baby supplies — things Sara hadn't even thought of yet.
Warrick had a vintage record player. "For those quiet nights when you don't want to hear nursery rhymes on repeat," he joked.
Nick carried in a potted plant. "Every new home needs something living in it besides people."
They laughed, toured the space, commented on the view, the staircase, the cozy nooks Grissom and Sara had already claimed. But more than anything, they lingered in the nursery — freshly painted in soft, green tones, a simple crib already set up by the window.
"You two did good," Catherine said, pulling Sara into a side hug. "Feels like a home."
Sara looked around — the scattered memories in the making — and realized it did.
After everyone left, Grissom found her on the staircase, barefoot again, staring down into their new living room. The light had gone golden with the late hour.
"You okay?" he asked, stepping behind her, hands settling low on her waist.
She leaned back into him, feeling his warmth. "More than okay."
His lips found the curve of her neck, slow and reverent. Their lives had been chaotic for so long — cases, trauma, near-misses. But here, in this quiet moment, everything felt still.
They made love in their new bed — the windows open to let the desert breeze wash over them. His hands traced the lines of her body with a tenderness that never failed to undo her. He whispered to her — words of love, of promise — words he didn't always say but never failed to show.
Afterward, tangled in sheets and soft breath, Sara whispered, "I never thought I'd have this."
Grissom kissed her temple. "It was always waiting for you."
By seven months, the nursery was nearly complete.
Tiny clothes hung neatly in drawers. Shelves were lined with books — some insect-themed, some gentle bedtime stories.
Grissom spent hours researching car seats and baby monitors like he was prepping for a conference presentation.
Sara caught him more than once staring at her — at the curve of her belly — with something like awe.
One night, curled up together on their oversized couch, she felt the baby move — a sharp little kick against her ribs.
Grissom's eyes widened when she guided his hand to feel it.
"She's strong," Sara whispered.
"She's yours," Grissom answered simply.
And for the first time in a long time, Sara let herself believe that maybe — just maybe — she was ready.