A/N: When I viewed the ninth episode this week, I was struck by Gil's contemplation of the stream…looking almost like tropical vegetation…I was hoping he was thinking about Sara…this moment, coupled with the fifth episode's viewing of Sara's video compelled me to write this one shot piece…these two are just so dynamic together…just a fun piece to help tide us over until January…hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it…not beta'd…all mistakes are mine…(and expect an update on the other story by midweek)…GSR rules!...-Kathy
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She turned her head a bit to fluff up her pillow in an attempt to fall back to sleep.
The humid tropical night had other ideas.
With only the full moon beaming through the triple portholes that she had opened in hopes of a slight breeze, Sara rolled her thin frame sideways and stood silently as if she feared disturbing the calm of her darkened stateroom.
By now she was so used to the slight listing of the ship as it docked near the shore that the she remained unfazed by the uneven path as her hand reached out to steady herself on the table's edge.
Another step and she lowered herself with the grace of a ballerina onto the window seat cushion.
She sat cross-legged, propping her head up against her palm as her elbow perched on the wide-rim of the open porthole window.
Looking across the short span of water, she smiled at the tiki torches lining the beautiful wooden boardwalk of the docking station, their lights standing at full attention for the inspection of anticipated visitors to the tropical island.
Sighing softly, she wondered how she would ever make up her mind.
But tomorrow was the deadline.
Was she going to leave the boat and take that plane, or continue on to the next port of call?
Glancing up at the moonlight, Sara wished for a star to guide her.
Her gaze returned to the room, and now with her eyes accustomed to the darkness Sara's eyes fell onto her laptop.
She smiled an ironic smile, her thoughts flying back in time to the day she first sent Gil the video, the day her life began to change forever………
(flashback)
It had been several days after Sara had sent the video.
It had broken her heart to do it, but in reviewing the message in its entirety, she felt she had really pulled it off.
You don't have to worry about me anymore.
If Gil had looked closely, he might have noticed the minute pause in the video, as she had been forced to tape over that section as her eyes betrayed her emotions, displayed so plainly in the first take that Sara feared he would see the real pain she was enduring.
Instead, she had recorded, remastered, and then sat on the tape for 24 hours, deciding eventually that she needed to do this…for him.
He was in a quandary.
She was setting him free, her actions mirroring that old quotation credited to Richard Bach:
If you love someone, set them free.
If they come back, they're yours; if they don't they never were.
But in Sara's life, she had come to expect that most things she loved would leave her, and never returned to her.
Steeling herself, she had sent the tape…and days passed without a response.
Well, she reminded herself on a sigh as the second week began, you have your answer…
Now, Gil Grissom was a man of unpredictable behaviors.
Living up to his reputation, at the beginning of the third week Sara was floored when first she realized he had sent an email reply to her message.
But she was absolutely livid as she read his terse reply to her communication.
His words were subtle, but his feelings quite clear:
Sara-
So glad that you have found someone with whom you can to spend your tropical days and nights.
I know how you prefer to work in tandem with another person, so useful as a sounding board for theories and ideas.
I'm sure Mr. Cousteau is an excellent mentor.
And I have to wonder if his line of work makes him a vegan as well – the way your luck is running these days, I can place a Vegas bet he is.
Sounds as if you have found a perfect blend of adventure and learning, not to mention the new chances for camaraderie.
Although I know you are capable of handling your own future, remember there are many people at the lab who are here for you if you ever need them.
I hope your happiness flourishes.
-Grissom
Sara just stood there.
She closed her eyes and shook her head violently.
Had she just suffered a stroke? Her vision became blurry and her head began pounding in reaction to his post.
Her legs were feeling rubbery, so she lowered herself into her seat and willed her beating heart to calm down.
Once her pulse was slightly lower, she took a deep breath and read the message again.
Tell me he isn't serious!
How dare he!
How dare he jump to conclusions!
How dare he make up this assumption that I am flirting with, or worse – sleeping with- someone on this cruise!
Mr. Cousteau? And I suppose he thought that was a heady, academic way of referring to a marine biologist? He has some nerve! AARRAGGHHH!!
Sara stood and kicked her trash can across the room, then began pacing furiously.
I only mentioned Damon so that Gil wouldn't be worried that I was alone all the time!
Sara stopped for a moment, trying to calm down…but decided she was deserving of the release gain through the ranting after all.
Continuing her pacing in the confined space of the stateroom, she was becoming consumed by her angry thoughts.
If Gil Grissom were here right now, I'd really let him have it!
I'd kick his ass from one side of this ship to the other!
He is actng so…ridiculous! And that just isn't like him…
He is acting so…presumptuous! And that just isn't like him…
He is acting so…
Sara paused her rant as her pacing came to an abrupt halt.
Spinning towards the laptop, her eyes furiously rereading the carefully worded post, Sara sucked in a deep breath.
Her hands flew to her mouth just as a wide, open-mouthed smile decorated her face.
He is acting so…jealous!
And THAT is EXACTLY like him!
Beaming, Sara sat down and reread the email again, grinning as she could just see the beads of sweat on his brow as he composed, recomposed, trashed, and began writing over and over again until he was satisfied that his email revealed nothing of his festering emotions.
She smiled at the fact that of all the information she had put into her video message, Gil had fixated on the minor point of having met a marine biologist that reminded her of him.
I described him that way because he is so into his marine species, the same way Gil is into his bugs.
Although, while Sara had always found Gil's fascination with the creepy crawlers utterly adorable and somewhat fascinating, she found Damon's obsession with undersea flora, fauna, and fish irritatingly boring.
Still, Damon – along with his life partner Andrew – had always included Sara whenever small groups had formed.
About five years her senior, both Damon and Andrew had actually made themselves her unofficial "big brothers" on the trip, effectively blocking blatant attempts by several other lascivious members of the cruise from pursuing their unwanted attentions towards Sara.
And she was so grateful to them for their friendship and their protection, although it made her smile to think that a woman trained in weaponless defense would probably not admit to that last part out loud.
The fact that Gil's message held a pouting tone delighted Sara down to her very soul.
He still loves me!
He has always been a little possessive, especially when I would work a crime scene with him.
Detective Vartaan, Officer Mazur, really any of the swing shift lab techs – whenever Gil would see them chatting with me, he was convinced that I was the unwilling recipient of their unwanted attentions…and his body language pretty much told them so…
Now, Sara was lying on her bed as she hugged a pillow to herself happily.
Suddenly, she sat up with a start.
Eyeing the computer with more than a hint of mischief, Sara moved quickly to retrieve a cool water bottle from her mini-refrigerator.
Gulping twice to relieve her heat-parched throat, she abandoned the bottle at the edge of the table as her total focus centered on one task.
If he was going to play this jealousy game, Sara would be a worthy competitor.
He had served the first volley.
Now…it was her serve.
Her fingers danced as she set up the video cam while her thoughts were fully forming, and she reveled in the ideas that were bombarding her brain. As a test, she began by smiling into the camera.
Dear Gil,
I would have responded earlier, but Damon and I…well, we've been so busy lounging in "our" secret spot on the seashore under the full moon…
Sara stopped in a fit of giggles, hitting the BACKSPACE button until the first test video was erased.
Calming herself, she tried to focus her thoughts, wanting her words to impart a message that was at once factual (should he decide to have someone check on her) yet vague enough to allow innuendo to shine through (so that he would actually decide to have someone else check on her).
Pasting a sickeningly sweet smile on her face, Sara could feel her eyes sparkling with glee as she hit the record button and counted the five seconds to focus herself in camera range before the red light indicated she should begin.
Hi, Gil,
Thank you for your email!
I am indeed learning that the world is full of surprises!
Sounds like you approve of my new friends. I am so glad!
Your humorous attempt to misname Damon was actually fairly close to the mark.
Most of us just refer to him as Jack (kind of an anglicized Jacques).
You were right on about his being an excellent mentor.
Whenever we leave the ship, he always assures that we work together…and sometimes we get so caught up in our designated search that we almost forget how to find our way out of this heavily forested paradise!
You know what, Gil?
Damon is so knowledgeable about so many different aspects of marine biology!
He has introduced me to things that I'm sure would curl your hair.
Oh, sorry, of course I remembered - it is already curly. My bad!
On the subject of menu, however, you couldn't be farther off the mark.
Damon's appetites are, let's just say, very different than what I am accustomed to.
Still, he always laughs as he reminds me that "experimentation broadens one's horizons".
A few weeks at sea, and I am beginning to understand where he is coming from…
Well…I pretty much have to run…so…
Please tell the gang I miss them greatly.
As per your request, I will try to flourish in my new surroundings.
It was nice to hear from you.
Bye, Gil…
Hitting the send button, Sara laughed aloud as she placed her hands behind her head and swiveled slightly on her desk chair.
"Ball's in your court, Professor Grissom," she smiled as she stood and made herself presentable enough for the dining hall's early bird breakfast buffet.
Truth be told, the food on this voyage hadn't really appealed to her palate.
In fact, although better rested, Sara had lost a few pounds that were never hers to discard in the first place.
Even Damon and Andrew were constantly trying to get her to eat something, confiding in her as their comfort level grew that their first meal with her had raised the suspicions that she was bulimic.
Sara laughed at that comparison, promising them that her weight often fluctuated in times of stress, assuring them she never sustained irreparable harm from these setbacks.
Her teammates, however, were now not the only ones concerned about Sara's weight loss.
Gil sat in the dark of his townhouse, having replayed Sara's new message several times since receiving it.
His mouth moved mockingly, his expression one of disgust over her choice of topic.
She's supposed to be missing me, longing for me, hoping for me to join her…
Instead, she just can't stop talking about Mr. Wonderful Cousteau…dammit!
Turning off the volume, Gil sat just looking at Sara's mouth move, the curl of her eyes, the impish twist of her nose as she laughed at her own choice of words.
His heart sank.
But as he couldn't seem to take his eyes off the screen, it was becoming obvious to him that she had lost a few pounds.
Sighing, he reclined on his sofa and placed his hand over his eyes.
He tried unsuccessfully to shut out the image of Sara in Capri length pants and a summer weight crew neck t-shirt sitting across from a Brad Pitt impostor as he leaned forward and tempted his Sara with a spoonful of something outlandish – like, like, like crushed avocado and kelp.
Gil could just imagine Sara screwing up her nose as Mr. Cousteau coaxed her gently, his own mouth open seductively as finally caved in under his pressure, leaning forward to accept what he offered her…
Gil sat up with a start.
Damn that man! Couldn't he see that Sara needed more nourishment than his paltry choice of menu offered?
Gil clicked the keyboard awakening the machine from sleep mode.
Impatiently waiting for his email account to set up, he decided to take the mature approach to expressing his displeasure over her obviously misguided (by that impostor) choices of meals on the journey.
Mumbling to himself, he continued his mantra of calm, collected, controlled…
Suddenly the machine blinked its preparation, and Gil's resolved was soon forgotten.
Sara-
Are you crazy?
Experimenting with those menu choices might seem like fun, but if you don't have an adequate nutritional base to fall back on, they could be downright hazardous to your health.
In looking at your latest video, I am convinced you have lost some weight already…what will happen by the time you reach your port of call?
Sara, listen, just promise me you will eat…just an extra milkshake or and extra snack of crackers and cheese…just once a day…please…the protein will make all the difference.
Please, honey.
Looking at the pet name that had fallen so easily from his thoughts, he sighed as his fingers hit the BACKSPACE button.
Please.
His heart was heavy as he stared at the letter, his urgent plea reduced to a single word.
His concern was growing as the hairs on the back of his head began to once again stand on end.
He wanted to write "Please, for me" or "Please do this for me. I love you."
But instead, he surrendered again to the fact that recent decisions, ones that he alone was responsible for, now resulted in only friendship looming on their horizon.
However, even though it was all she could offer him now, he was consumed with knowing that she was alright.
And so he added a final thought.
If ever you have time, I'd like to know how you're doing from time to time...anytime is fine, whenever you get the chance.
-Gil
He reread and, even though the closing seemed to ramble a bit, he sighed and then hit the SEND button.
Returning to his space on the couch, Gil sat for a few moments just thinking about Sara's latest email.
He hurt knowing that she had given him the chance to end their relationship, and like a fool he had thought and thought about every reason he couldn't be with her.
Even Heather had tried to encourage him, and had spoken the words that had clouded his vision for days afterwards:
Sometimes it is over long before it ends…
In reply to Heather, he had shrugged and stated simply, "I didn't say the relationship was over."
But in essence, he had done nothing to tell Sara that.
And now…now with every post, she was telling him she was moving on…that it was too late.
He had always worried.
Now, he had to live with his choices…and their consequences.
Too late.
Shaking his head to clear it, he noticed the arm that had been covering his eyes was damp.
Grissom. You are such a fool.
Meanwhile, the mood on the ship was anything but solemn.
The late afternoon sun had sent the shipmates scrambling from their rainforest search, desperate for a cool drink and for some shade.
Returning to her room, Sara was excited when she clicked on her computer and found another note from the man she would always love.
Again, Sara read Gil's message.
Again, she laughed out loud, hugging herself as she twirled around.
He loves me.
HE LOVES ME!
Forcing herself to wait to reply to him, her patience ran out on the third day of that week.
Sara sat at her computer and jimmied the wires to connect her camera to the auxiliary input.
The past few days the entire ship load of scientists had endured 100-degree temperatures and scorching sun.
Their ship's supply of sunscreen was running low, and even personal stashes of the skin-saving lotion were at an all-time low.
Sara had shared what she had, conserving only the briefest amounts to save her pale skin from blistering.
So now that she stood in front of the camera even wearing a linen shirt fully buttoned, it was obvious to the casual observer that Sara was dangerously close to third degree sunburn.
And Gil Grissom was no casual observer when it came to his Sara.
Sara smiled into the camera, the sun exposure igniting the dusting of freckles that normally dotted the landscape of her near-perfect complexion.
Hey!
Thought I'd reply to your message now that we are having some down time from working in this blazing sun.
Jack and I worked in the forest the last three days, and let me tell you there should have been a sunstroke warning!
The air was so hot, yet the vegetation held the moisture in such a fashion that it felt like we were working in a sauna!
No matter what you choose to wear, it clings to you like second skin.
At one point, the conditions were so unbearable that Jack insisted on my wearing his "jungle hat"…oh, maybe I already mentioned that he has one in a similar size and shape to your old favorite?...
Anyway, Jack insisted and good thing too…
Most of our crew's sunscreen supply is running out, and my arms – as you can see- are almost sun burnt.
While the ship's stores are dangerously low on sun protection and sunburn treatment, I am so lucky that Jack brought a living aloe vera plant on board at our last stop.
He has been really looking out for me, and let me tell you…when he cracks that spiky leaf over my hot skin, well I just get goosebumps in relief!
Hope the desert heat is not affecting you too badly at this time of year, I know you were never a fan of dry heat.
(sigh) Well, as I said, that certainly isn't a problem where we are working.
My best to the team.
Enjoy the rest of your week!
-Sara
"Hey!" ? "-Sara" ?
Suddenly, Gil felt as if he had been suckerpunched.
They had been together almost three years, and when she finally gets around to sending him something in the way of communication, she acts like they are at a high school reunion?
And why the hell does she think I would want to hear about Mr. Wonderful?
Fuming, Gil paced around his apartment.
Bruno, sensing there was a storm brewing, had wisely decided nap…in the laundry room…out of the line of fire.
As if on cue, Gil marched to the kitchen and pulled a water bottle from the refrigerator.
After finishing it in successive gulps, he smashed the cap onto the bottle and then, almost as an afterthought, he hurled it angrily until it bounced off the sliding glass doors leading out to the patio.
He closed his eyes, relying on his much-touted mask of self-control.
I will not think about Sara.
I will not think about Sara and that…impostor…working together…close enough to touch…
I will not think about Sara, standing sweaty in the rainforest, with her shirt clinging tightly to her breasts, as beads of sweat drizzle from her hairline down her long neck, continuing until they disappear under the second undone button on her blouse…
Moving as if possessed, Gil marched from the room.
The next sound Bruno could hear was the distant sound of cold water running in the shower…
After he had regained some form of control, Gil decided he needed some rest before he could handle the pile of paperwork he knew was waiting for him at his desk during the next shift.
Had he remained awake, he might have been surprised at how easily he had fallen asleep.
Except, this nap would not ease much of the tension he had carried with him to bed.
He felt like he was flying, floating actually, over the sun kissed waves of the Atlantic.
Like a fly on the wall, suddenly he saw them.
She looked nothing like she did in her last video message.
In that, she had worn a sleeveless linen shirt, fashionable, yet modest, in color and cut.
Here in his dream, however, Sara was perched on a large boulder that raised her provocatively off the ground, her perfectly tanned and toned body relaxed against the blazing sun.
She was wearing that bikini…the little red number she had purchased and worn for their sole getaway to Lake Mead – almost two years ago.
He had promised her that their three day escape would not be the last…but as with many of the promises he had given her, this one also went unfulfilled.
From out of the thick brush, some bushes as high as a man's shoulder, came Mr. Cousteau.
He was a strapping figure of a man, probably British from his accent.
Wearing his hat (which was not at ALL as nice as the one Gil owned), he presented himself bare-chested as the fronds of the leafy vegetation lapped at this bulky biceps when he moved through them.
He held his hand behind him until he was mere inches away from Sara's face.
She was begging him to show her what he held behind his back.
Teasing her with a knowing smirk, Jack shook his head before asking suggestively, "How much do you want it?"
Sara leaned forward on the rock, begging and pleading in a voice Gil had never heard from her.
"Please. Give it to me, Jack. I want it…NOW, Jack…"
She let out a shriek of pleasure as the impostor's hands whipped before him, revealing an oversized shoot from what had to be the world's largest aloe vera plant!
Holding it low to his waist, Dr. Freud was not needed to interpret the meaning of this dream symbol.
"Jack," Sara continued to plead, "please…I need it…now…please, Jack!"
To Gil's horror, Sara swung her legs out in front of her, letting them dangle off the rock which was high enough to put her in perfect position for –
"NO!" Gil mumbled as he was tossing and turning, but his warning to Sara went unheeded.
Jack moved to stand between Sara's legs, taking the aloe vera leaf and cracking it directly before her eyes.
Cooling salve began oozing from the crack, and Sara could stand it no longer.
Almost fainting backwards, Sara began to writhe under the anticipation of the relief the gel would provide for her sunburnt skin.
Gil watched in horror as the drops of aloe vera began falling faster and faster as Jack worked the vine until it was finally dry, laughing evilly as he began to spread the gel furiously over Sara's lower body…
"Sara!" he yelled as his body sat bolt upright in bed.
The sound of Bruno's nails clicking on the tiles as he raced to his master's defense brought Gil out of his confusion.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Bruno's head pressed firmly in his lap for reassurance, Gil began to shudder as his breaths returned to some form of normalcy.
Calming somewhat, Gil suddenly realized he didn't want to calm down.
That dream was a wake up call.
Suddenly, it was all clear to him.
By not acting to fight for Sara, he had given her away …to the swarmy hands of Mr. Wonderful.
Well, Gil Grissom was done turning the other cheek, walking away from confrontations in the delusion that real men didn't need to solve their problems with their fists.
Gil's adrenaline was rising as he stood and looked at himself in the mirror.
Yes, the time for "words" was over.
If he wanted his woman, he was damn well going to fight for her!
And the first order of business was going to be knocking that woman-stealing Jack Cousteau overboard the second he laid eyes on him!.........
(end of flashback)
She grinned as she heard the rustle of the bedsheet from across the stateroom.
Without a word, hands were pulling aside the tendrils that escaped from her sloppy pigtail as lips began their silent assault on that perfect spot on the side of her long neck.
Her eyes closed dreamily, a contented smile crossing her lips before they were captured in a kiss that was ultimately more seductive than any she had enjoyed on the previous night's activities.
Pulling away slightly, she turned her body so that he could stand between her legs and pull her close to him.
After a long while, the moonbeams were beginning to fade in the promise of the new day.
"Good morning, Mr. Grissom," she spoke finally, her formality making him chuckle softly.
"Well, Mrs. Grissom, have you decided?" he asked with mock severity, pulling his hands through her hair to loosen the strands from the pony tail clip.
Sara was having trouble remembering the question, her need to make love to him overruling her thoughts.
"Hmm?" she asked dreamily, her head bobbing back slightly into his touch.
"God, Sara…you are so beautiful," he spoke softly before claiming her mouth roughly.
He carried her to bed, where they greeted the morning sun with murmurs of passion and with verbal expressions of their longing and promises of forever love.
Noontime was approaching, and Gil continued to hold Sara close to him as he ran lazy patterns across her back.
"Sara," he spoke then cleared his throat to increase the volume in his question.
"The captain is going to be coming down here soon if you don't make a decision," he said, punctuating every other word with the movement of his lips down her neck towards her cleavage.
"Well," Sara laughed, "if that's the case, perhaps you better decide whether you are going to lock the door!"
Gil eyed her lovingly, taking her in his arms and kissing her as if there were no tomorrow.
"Does that mean, we're staying?" he asked hopefully.
Sara rolled her eyes.
"As much as I really wanted to get off this Royal Caribbean cruiser at this stop and fly to the edge of the next set of islands, I suppose staying on board today will have its merits also…"
He grinned as he pulled himself over her, looking down greedily at her lips all the while feeling his body react in anticipation.
"Think of it this way…we'll be the only honeymooners who don't have sunburn," he smiled, as he lowered his lips to hers.
But Sara's next statement stopped him in his tracks.
"Yep…and no need for aloe vera either…did I ever tell you about how good that feels when it gets drizzled on your sunb-"
In an instant, reacting to the flood of memories her statement caused in him, Gil surprised Sara by crushing their bodies together in a totally possessive move.
Sara never got a chance to finish that statement.
But the new bride didn't mind a bit.