The lab was alive. A contrast between the dead, rainy world outside. It's was 3am. A typically active time in Sara's life. She hadn't slept in over 20 hours and was beginning to feel the effect. Her eyes were stinging and her lids were weighted under the pressure of sleeplessness. She filtered through the various pages blanketed across the surface of Langstons's desk. Hunting for that one case file that would uncover invisible link between the murder of Kelly Haze and the suspect sat under Brass's brutal gaze. Greg was working some motel case. A dead hooker and an abandoned boy. How she would kill for something interesting like that instead of dwelling over a dull, gas station robbery. She sighed as a clap of thunder screamed from outside the window. She was immune to sudden noises. Even in her vegetable state.

The rain traced the glass and she found herself distracted by the intricate patterns crafted by the droplets as they raced against scenic view of early morning Vegas. The tiredness once again forced her eye lids shut. She snapped them open. Grunting the words 'c'est des conneries' under her breath.

"Watch your French." A soft voice called from the door of the office. Her lips forged a smile at the sound of his presence. She turned round, pushing forward on her swivel chair and dragging herself to Gil's chest.

"I missed you." She whispered. Refusing to let go from his warm clasp. In the moment, the chaos of the lab was silent. As if the night had stayed still just to allow them that second of affection. Her prince had returned. His face, a carpet of thick grey hair. Messy yet still so welcoming to see. He was wet from the storm – but Sara barley took notice. She didn't care if she too would end up soaking. She didn't care that his body was frozen block of ice. All that mattered was that he was here.

In his hand he clasped a veggie burger. Sara snatched it from his cold palms and pressed her lips against his nose. Relishing in the subtle exchange of love. Gil chuckled, apparently used to his wife's priorities. He reclaimed the chair behind his old desk and looked out at the mountain of paper work Sara had decorated the room with. "You work too hard." He sighed. Locking his eyes with hers.

Sara tore herself away from him, devouring the burger and almost refusing to allow a conversation regarding her tiredness to evolve. "I've gotta get this case done, Gil." She stoops back into workaholic mode, clutching the pen and making various notes on a scrap piece of paper. Gil paused. Taking Sara's hand in his own and following the length of her fingers. The sensations rippling through his skin as that touch registered in his brain were like ripples slowly dancing across a moon lit lake. He took the pen from her hand and laid it down. Once more, allowing their gazes to meet.

He leaned over the desk, still holding onto his darling wife, and muttered into her ear "Je vis d'amour et d'eau douce. Je serai poète et toi poésie"

Dedicated too Sophie.