Disclaimer: I don't own CSI or anything about it. Just boring these tow characters for a little fun of my own.

This is a first for me. Not story I mean. First time, I've written from a character's point of view. Sara's POV.



When I dream of him, it's the same dream. I dream:

He knocks on my door. He's soaking wet from the rain that just began to fall. He doesn't wait for me to ask him in. He just pushes his way in and shuts the door.

His hands grab my wrists and he pins me to the closed door. His face inches from mine. Closer. Closer. Until his lips kiss mine. Hard and with need. I kiss him back.

His tongues slips into my mouth as his hands let go of my wrists and go around me Pulling me against him, I feel the hardness of him on my thigh.

I moan into his mouth, which causes him to break the kiss and whisper, "I need you, Sara."

His mouth finds mine again. This time I pull away and lead him to my bedroom. He pulls my shirt over my head the moment the door closes. His fingers caress my skin.

He tugs his own shirt off and pulls our bodies together. He unhooks my bra and slides it down my arms. His mouth finds one nipple and lightly sucks it before moving to the other one.

Our shoes slide off. He unbuttons my jeans as I do his. Sliding them the floor, he kicks them off. Boxers and all. He is naked before me. He's just like I always pictured. Hard and muscular beneath those baggy clothes. I run my fingers down his body.

His eyes close as my hand circles him and strokes him softly.

My jeans are removed then as is my panties. I'm naked before him now. His fingers touch my center softly. Teasing me. I arch into his hand as he pushes me to the bed.

I slowly move to the center of the bed not taking my eyes off of him. He follow and moves between my legs. His mouth on mine, his tongue dancing with mine as he thrusts in to me. I cry out, not from pain but from the shear bliss from having him inside me.

He begins to move within me. I hear him calling my name. I scratch my fingers down his back as he makes me come. I'm panting now. His pounding slows and I think that he is about to explode, but that is when it all changes.

His once hurried movements have become slow and tender. He slides into me gently. Kissing me gently. We make love for hours. Stopping only to start again.

Everything in those moments becoming described in one word. Bliss.

He holds me tightly as the rain stops and the sun begins to set. He whispers, "I love you," and kisses my lips once more before falling asleep.

That is where I always wake up to find a cold empty bed. This morning isn't any different except for the noise coming from the monitor.

I get up and pad down the hall barefoot. I stop just far enough to lean onto the door frame. And smile.

The sight before me is one that I never thought I, Sara Sidle, would get to witness.

Grissom sits in a rocking chair close to the window holding our three month old daughter. Singing to her. Cooing to her. Loving her.

Ananda Grace Grissom. Ananda is Hindu meaning bliss and joy. And both those things she was.

The night she was created was the night we got Nicky out of his Plexiglas coffin. The night that began to rain as we loaded him into the ambulance. And to safety. The night that Gil Grissom came to me, kissed me, and said, "I need you."