Reunions
Summary: Whoever said, "You can't go home again," never had this in mind. GSR. Pure, unadulterated fluff, with a pinch of angst and sarcasm, just for a bit of variety.
A/N: This is in response to the offer I made in the disclaimer of "Primal Scream Therapy". MSCSIFANGSR won. First and last lines were provided. Thanks to VR Trakowski for the beta.
Rating: Let's go wild with a PG-13.
Disclaimer: It pays to read the fine print in these things. Sometimes it's better than a Cracker Jack box. Oh, and I don't own … blah, blah.
There was nothing but blue skies in the forecast.
Considering it was Las Vegas, that shouldn't have been surprising; clouds there were as rare as Catherine wearing a work-appropriate outfit, or Hodges acting like a normal person. But the intensity of the light was harsh on eyes grown accustomed to the gentle sunshine filtered through a rainforest canopy.
Sara winced at the luciferous assault, fumbling with her purse to find her sunglasses, but she paused when a hand rested on her arm. Turning her head, she smiled as Grissom pulled out a pair for her from his carry-on bag, putting them on as he retrieved his own sunglasses.
"I'm glad one of us was prepared," she said in a bright tone, hoping to dispel the concerns she knew lurked under his calm manner. He was trying, she knew that without question, but returning to the scene of her burnout had him on edge. The way he scanned the crowds, keeping a watchful lookout for some potential boogeyman, was impossible to ignore.
"I do try to think of all contingencies," he offered gently.
"Did that include packing the giant butterfly net to snag me when I freak out," Sara said, bumping into his arm playfully as they were walked to their rental car.
"I recall you telling me I didn't need to pack it," he said, trying unsuccessfully to keep his response light. "And I thought a tranquilizer gun would be better; you can outrun me."
"I'm done running," she said, giving him a loving smile. "You won't need it. Seriously, relax, Gil. I'm good. Better than I have been in … forever."
Shifting the luggage he carried, Grissom reached out and took her hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly. "You didn't have to come back with me."
"Well, it'll be a hell of a marriage if we aren't in the same city, at least occasionally. I do intend to hold you to your husbandly duties from time to time."
"You're perfectly capable of taking out the trash on your own."
Sara smirked. "Well, if that's the only duty you're interested in fulfilling …"
"I'll behave now," he said rapidly.
Laughing, she squeezed his hand in return. "Where do you want to start?"
"There's nothing to eat or drink at the condo. We're going to be busy later – want to take care of that or drop off the luggage and shower?"
"Food first. We'll need the nourishment," she said firmly, thinking of all that awaited them.
When Sara had first left Las Vegas, she hadn't been thinking about a long-term plan. She arranged for what possessions weren't already in Grissom's condo to be put into storage, shut off her utilities and packed some clothing before bolting to San Francisco to confront her past. She'd always intended to come back, to put things right, but then there was Warrick's death and Grissom's emotional retreat, and she left again without resolving anything.
Grissom's departure had been better planned, but you couldn't just vanish into the rainforest indefinitely. They had responsibilities to attend to, even if her visa hadn't expired. When a lecture opportunity presented itself, she'd encouraged Grissom to take it, knowing how much he'd enjoy the professional satisfaction it would provide.
With three weeks before he left for Toronto, they planned to get their affairs in Las Vegas in order. She was willing to live in the city, even telling him to return to the lab if he missed it. Grissom, though, worried about her; he was still afraid there were too many demons left to spook her.
But there weren't; she was certain of it.
She hadn't been joking earlier; she was better than good. Grissom's arrival in the rainforest, and their reconciliation had worked wonders on her mental state. She'd already been in a much better position emotionally and psychologically; unable to avoid her ghosts, she'd finally faced them, and it had lifted a weight from her psyche that she'd never known existed. The marriage – with the love and stability it exemplified – had been the icing on her mental welfare cake.
If anything, she was in better condition to work at the lab than she'd been before.
Convincing her loving, if somewhat overprotective husband, of that was another matter. Not that she blamed him; she was certain she was responsible for more than a few of the new gray hairs he sported, and she was doing her best to put him at ease.
Sara was joking with him as they wandered through the store when she suddenly stopped short. "Oh, shit."
"What?" he demanded quickly, automatically reaching out to grab her elbow, but she'd already darted around a display of creamed corn.
"Move. Get out of the aisle," she hissed, but he was too worried about her to pay attention to the incoming alcoholic.
"Gil! Cupcake! Where have you been? Captain Dipshit at the lab said you'd left! Why didn't you tell me?"
"I tried to warn you," Sara whispered at his petrified stare.
"Rochelle," he sighed, putting on a false smile as he turned around. The elderly woman dressed in a sequined halter-top that was far too small wrapped her arms around him, ignoring his attempts to extract himself. "I can't tell you how good it is to see you."
"Because it's not," came a soft chortle from behind the cans.
"What's this bullshit about you leaving? Where have you been?"
"I was in Costa Rica."
"What the hell were you doing in New Mexico?"
"It's not …," Grissom started to explain before giving it up as a lost cause. Instead, he tried to lean away from the alcohol cloud hanging around his ardent admirer. "Ugh, I was on an ecological survey."
"I didn't know you were a surveyor! That's a much better job than that lab. What the hell is wrong with that place? Can't they afford to pay their bills? It's always too damn dark in there!"
Looking over the top of the cans, he frowned as Sara wrapped her arms around her stomach as she tried to stay quiet. Giving her an evil glare, he smiled broadly.
"I don't work at the lab any longer, Rochelle. I left it for my wife."
"Wife?"
"Ouch! Stop, ow!"
"You shitty pig! You left me for another woman? How could you do that to me? Didn't I mean anything to you?"
"We were never together," he tried to point out calmly, feeling frustrated as a crowd started to gather around them.
"Oh, that's your story now is it? Where is she?"
"Behind the corn!" he said, hoping for some help before the police arrived; with his luck, they'd send Officer Fromansky to investigate.
"Don't drag me into this! She doesn't like me," Sara laughed as she walked to his side. She tensed, ready to avoid the shin-kicking, hair-pulling or other response from the drunken old woman. What she wasn't expecting was a full-body hug.
"You poor thing," Rochelle crooned. "He's a lying sack of shit. He'll promise you the world and then break your heart."
"I never promised you anything!" Grissom protested, ignoring the disgusted stares from a pack of over-perfumed older women.
Trying to maintain a straight face, Sara patted Rochelle on the back as she led her toward her cart. "Well, don't you worry. He won't be bothering you ever again," she said. "I'll see to it."
Sensing the show was over, their audience started to depart as Sara directed Rochelle to the checkout lanes before the drunk's sad commentary turned to angry assault. As she turned around, she couldn't help laughing heartily at Grissom's scowl.
"Look on the good side," she said, slipping her arm through his. "She's not going to be looking for you at the lab again."
"That might be comforting if I ever planned to return."
"Never say never."
"I don't need to return to that life. I'm happy with you," he said sincerely.
"And I'm happy with you. But I don't care if you want to go back. Forensics was a major portion of your life. You don't have to give it up for me."
"We've had this discussion before."
"Come on," she said affectionately. "Let's get out of here before we run into anyone else we want to avoid."
Once home and the groceries were away, Sara frowned; the neglected condo had a layer of dust over everything. Disgustingly, her germ-phobic side – which had been perfectly quiet living in a tent in the middle of a bug-infested jungle, or staying aboard a ship with a broken down septic system – rebelled at the slightly dirty home.
"We better go," she said, knowing that once she started cleaning, she wasn't going to stop until the entire home was disinfected.
Grissom talked of random things as they drove through the city, but it didn't take him long to realize she wasn't really paying attention. When he stopped at an intersection, he reached over to grab her hand. "You okay?"
"I'm not sure how to face him," Sara admitted finally. "I left so suddenly. It had to confuse him. I'm not sure how to explain it."
"I don't think you'll have to," he said kindly. "He'll just be happy to see you again, well and happy."
"I hope you're right."
She kept up her side of the conversation as they finished the drive, pulling up in front of the neat house with a large yard. Getting out of the car, she approached the house slowly, rolling her eyes when Grissom draped an arm over her shoulder.
"I'm just nervous," she chided him gently.
Opening the gate in the chain link fence, he escorted her toward the side yard where a small crowd was gathered. "There he is," Grissom said, letting out a loud whistle.
Eight heads looked up suddenly, but one pair of brown eyes focused on them with a joyful expression. Yipping wildly, Hank dashed across the yard, nearly knocking Grissom over as he leapt up to plant his front paws on his chest, licking his face with pleasure. Letting out a half-bark, he turned to Sara, trying to lick her face and stick his head under her hand for a pat at the same time.
"Hey, boy," she said, her eyes watering as she sank to the ground to wrap her arms around him. Hank squirmed, barking at Grissom to join them, licking anything and everything that came within reach of his tongue.
After a moment, the dog sitter came over and Grissom settled the bill as Hank alternated between kissing and begging for belly rubs, refusing to let either of his masters out of his sight. When it came time to leave, he stubbornly refused to get into his place in the back seat, trying to lie across both their laps. Sara finally had to get into the back seat with him to keep him there, and even then he whined sadly if Grissom wasn't talking to him.
For the rest of the day, Hank stayed in their immediate area, refusing to chase his favorite ball at the park if they threw it more than a few yards away. Once back at the condo, he sniffed the rooms out quickly, nearly getting under their feet as they fixed dinner. He wolfed down his own kibble before climbing up on the couch and lying across them as they tried to go through the backlog of mail.
"He's forgotten all his training," Grissom sighed as he tried – unsuccessfully – to get Hank to go to his own bed in the corner.
"He's insecure. We left him, and he didn't understand why. He's just happy to see us again," Sara defended him, even as his tongue washed over her nose.
However, even her patience was tested as he followed them into the bedroom, trying to wiggle between their bodies as they kissed on the bed. Rolling over, Grissom told him to get down, but he only whined, looking at them with sad, puppy dog eyes.
"And I thought Pedro following us around the rainforest was a pain," Grissom murmured, heading to the bathroom to wash up.
"It's not his fault," Sara laughed as she leaned against the doorframe. "He'll be fine in a day or two when he realizes we're not leaving him again."
"And in the meantime? We'll never have a free moment to ourselves," Grissom said, his head cocking as he looked back toward the bed. "He didn't follow us in here."
"His fear of abandonment isn't as strong as his fear of the b-a-t-h," Sara noted, pointing toward the tub. "He never comes in here willingly."
"Well, maybe I can perform some of my husbandly duties after all."
Sara turned in surprise as he crossed the room to shut the door quickly, wrapping his arms around her with a questioning look. She generally avoided romantic encounters in the bathroom; her lab experience had taught her too well that the room was a microbial Club Med, and there was no such thing as a truly clean surface.
But the bedroom was currently occupied by a mildly neurotic pet, and her husband was close at hand. If she could survive the jungle, well…
Surely, variety was the spice of life.
A/N II: Rochelle was a requested character for the story. She first appeared in "Hands on Approach", showed up again in "Past Experiences", and was last seen in "Grissom's Gift."