Author's Note: Here we go! Fluff as per usual with my one-shots. Happy reading.

Disclaimer: CSI:M and the characters here don't belong to me but to CBS, J.Bruckheimer, A.Zuiker et al.

Prompt #4

Pessimist

He slowly drifted into a state of wakefulness, "Hey…" he wrapped an arm around her and kissed her bare shoulder. He turned her around to face him.

She tried to fake a sleepy 'hmm'.

He looked around and yawned; it was still and hour before dawn. "Awful pretender," he teased. She kept her eyes closed and tried to suffocate the sob bubbling up. She held her breath before swallowing hard.

He bumped his nose gently against hers, holding her closer. He pressed his lips gently against hers, wanting her to open her eyes, because he knew she was wide-awake.

He tasted the salt on her lips, and his gut immediately tightened ath the fact that she had been crying, "Marisol, what's wrong, Sweetheart?"

"Nothing," she whispered, although her arm slipped around his waist.

He nudged her with his nose again, his lips trailing softly behind.

"What happens later, Horatio?" she whispered, "What if it doesn't go ok? What if everything we've done till now isn't enough? This could be my fault because I stopped the treatment. What if…" she let out the trapped sob, "What if I lose the ba-,"

His hand clamped over her mouth to muffle her, "Sweetheart, listen to me. Everything is going to be ok. WE are all going to be ok, all right?" He heard another sob, and was surprised to find the back of his own eyes pricking with tears. "Come here," he pulled her tightly against him and kissed the top of her head as he gently rocked her. "I love you and we're going to get through this. Nothing is going to stop us, ok?"

He felt her nod against him and he knew she was trying to be strong – for both of them, but her body was giving her away as he felt his chest start to go damp with her continuing tears. "Hey, when did my darling optimist turn into a pessimist?"

"Must be your bad influence," she cracked weakly, wondering when she did turn into a pessimist. Her optimism during their fast-paced courtship had led to so much happiness for both of them and that had the domino effect of building up so much on THEM and now she was scared of breaking it. Somehow it was so much easier to believe that failure is what was coming next because of all the good things that had happened: something just had to give…she had learned the hard way that nothing was perfect.

Because now, if she convinced herself enough that it was going to go all wrong – Maybe it wouldn't hurt so much when the Doctor finally told her.

"And when did you become the optimist?" she inquired.

"Must be your bad influence." He teased back. She smiled against him. "Pessimist!"

"Optimist!"

"Tell you what, if I win, I get to have my wicked way with you." He said coyly in the dark, letting his fingers walk down her neck. Her mind was already racing with thoughts of him. However he was already jumping ahead of her, "And don't even let the thought of me losing, enter your head."

He kissed her hard, "I think I very much like the sound of that…" she said, her own hand slipping under his shirt. She let out a sigh, "Just prepping myself. Life can't be this perfect." She put his hand against her tummy.

His finger traced out soothing circles, as he felt her relax slightly, "Yes it can," he whispered, "Marisol, you just have to believe."

-FIN-