DISCLAIMER : No copyright infringement intended. CSI and the characters within this fic belong to CBS and other entities. I made no profit but the fun of writing.
A/N : As classic as the subject of this fic could be, I hope you can still find something new in this fruit of my labor. This fruit that would have tasted sour if wasn't for Sylvie great and much help.
Enjoy:)
WATERMELON
-Part 1-
Sara was in a garden of flowers,soft hues of violets, reds, whites, and yellowsspreadall around as far as her eyes could see.
A fountain, just at arm's length, was spilling water from its granite bowl to the small pond bellow. She touched the falling water with her fingertips, smiling, mesmerized at the freshness it brought to her skin.
She could feel her own smile getting wider when she spotted him. There, walking down the path of lush green grass was her man. Her life and soul, the reason of her existence, all in one vivid picture of a man.
Gilbert Grissom with his charming smile, dressed all in white, his shirt looking so crisp under the sun, the forever sweet smell of his skin carried by the wind. He opened his arms wide and in a second she was there in his embrace, home.
He kissed her, and as always, she kissed him back. Long, and sweet, and lovely, as if their lips were of melted honey.
"Sara…." He kept her at arm's length; his eyes smiled to hers. "Look."
At first, she didn't understand. But when, still smiling, she looked down to her arms, she did too.
There, as if magically materialized, was a bundle in a soft blue blanket, sat in her arms like it belonged there.
She looked up questioningly to Grissom whose smile seemed ethereal under the glowing sun, and then she looked down at the bundle again. As if trying to answer her unspoken query the bundle moved against her chest.
"Look." Grissom spoke softly, his hand moved to cradle the bundle with hers.
As if in daze, Sara's trembling fingers opened the blanket, revealing what was in it to her curious eyes.
X-.-/-/-.-X
Ra Ra-ah-ah-ah
Roma Roma-ma
GaGa
Oh la-la
Want your bad romance.
"Damn it!" Sara sat up bolt upright, glaring at her cellphone that was ringing and vibrating like crazy atop the nightstand.
She rubbed her bleary eyes; regretfully remembering that she had allowed Greg to re-set the alarm feature on her phone. Lady Gaga could only sing the next three words of the lyric before Sara mercilessly hit the stop button, shutting the alarm for good.
She swung her legs off the bed, ready to start her pre-shift routine, when it hit her.
A foggy image of Grissom in a white dress shirt and a blue bundle came first. Then the whole scenario of her dream played out in front of her very eyes like an old movie.
A bad old movie.
Sara gasped, then gasped again. Did I really dream that?
She shook her head, standing and stretching, when it hit her again, ten times harder this time.
"Oh God, No!" She fumbled for her discarded phone, scrolled to the calendar feature. Then as if it wasn't enough, she rounded the bed for the other nightstand, grabbing the calendar on it and gawking at rows of printed date.
"No. No. No." The words came out like a mantra as she sat dejectedly on the bed, holding the calendar and the phone in tight grips.
Today is the eighteenth. My last period was when? Last month?
Wait? I was having one before that trick roll at the Lucky Dragon. That was two months ago right?
She checked the calendar one more time, confirming her suspicion.
God.
The bed bounced slightly as Sara threw herself on it, calculating, contemplating, and cursing herself every now and then. She only stopped when her phone rang again, a different Lady Gaga's song this time with a lyric Sara couldn't quite fathom
"Hello."
"So, I take it that the alarm works?" The far-too-eager sound at the other end somehow sunk her already ruined mood.
"I don't remember allowing you to change my ringtone." She sat up and walked to the bathroom. Nothing is certain yet. I need to run a test, or get checked out.
"It's a bonus." Greg chirped happily. "Buy one get two."
"Lady Gaga? Where has your rock soul gone?" She checked her image in the mirror. She had lost her appetite for no reason lately and had a problem waking up on time.
Are those the signs? But I haven't vomited in years and have no problem around coffee. Didn't Catherine say that she couldn't stand coffee or keep any food down when she was expecting Lindsey?
"I'm still a rocker inside Sara, I just have a little diversion to expand my musical horizon."
Expand. The word triggered something in Sara's mind. She hurriedly peeled off her tank-top and cautiously brought her hand down to her stomach, checking her reflection. She turned so she could look at her profile. It didn't look like she had expanded, yet; her belly was still the same as it was before. She blew out a relieved breath.
Nicely rounded. She recalled Grissom's comment a while back with a wistful smile. Amidst their lovemaking she had self-consciously asked if it bothered him that she wasn't as thin as Catherine or as sexy as their French neighbor. He had chuckled and picked his favorite part on her body, her stomach and fingers, and had peppered them with lovely kisses as solid proof of his confession.
Grissom. What would he say when – if – her stomach got rotund? Would he still love that part of her body?
No. She couldn't even begin to imagine his reaction to the news.
"Sara! Are you still there?" Greg's voice penetrated into her consciousness.
"Yeah. You were saying?" Sara pressed the phone to her ear, trying to concentrate on Greg's words.
"We are expected at the Palermo, a double."
"This early?" She checked her reflection again, pressing her hand slightly against her stomach. Her gaze moved up to her breasts for signs of expansion and she shook her head briskly.
"Swing's tapped out on the arson case. Haven't you seen the news? It's everywhere."
News. How would she deliver the news to Grissom? On the phone? E-mail? A surprise intercontinental flight to Paris?
"No Greg. I haven't watched TV in days." She sighed, glancing at the pile of soiled clothes from the previous shifts that she hadn't got the chance to laundry. Nowadays, she just crash into the townhouse and fall asleep."I'll be at the scene in thirty."
"Make that twenty. It's a high-profile one. I'm picking you up."
Another sigh escaped Sara's lips as she said yes to Greg, shutting the phone. As she stepped into the shower she gave a final glance at her reflection, deciding that there was no point counting chickens before the eggs had hatched.
Eggs, embryos, fetuses, what difference does it make? she mumbled to herself distractedly. I'm still going to have to wait until the end of the shift to see if the eggs will indeed hatch.
X-.-/-/-.-X
Apparently the definition of end of shift was still as undefined as it was back when Sara left the lab two year ago. It was only after pulling a double and a half that she and Greg could leave the lab, pleased that they had nailed the suspect. They were both tired beyond belief.
Greg was cracking jokes as he drove; even tried a dirty one about Doc Robbins and the naked bodies they'd found at the Palermo.
Sara, more for her sanity, gave grave smiles or obligatory nods. Her hand was in her jacket pocket, clutching two slim pregnancy tests still in their protective boxes she had successfully bought behind Greg's back under the pretense of buying Tylenol.
"Here you go Princess, Grissom's manor." Greg stopped in front of the townhouse, rounded the car quickly to open the passenger door for Sara, bowing as he did so.
His sweet gesture was inevitably rewarded with a smile. Sara stepped out, holding Greg's proffered hand. "What's with this fourteenth century style, Sir Greggo?"
"Nothing," Greg continued holding her hand, gallantly leading her to the door. "Just thought I could entertain my distracted Lady." He winked at her, casually leaning against the door. "That, and I really need to go to the john."
Sara laughed, pulling out keys from her sling purse and feigning confusion on which key to use to open the door.
"Oh come on." Greg tapped his foot on the concrete floor, scrunching his eyes. "You don't want to see me wet my pants."
"No." Sara chuckled, pushing the door open with her knee. "But I would like to see you clean the mess afterwards though."
Be fore she could finish her sentence Greg had elbowed her out of the way and was running at full pelt down the stairs. Sara sighed, too preoccupied to even enjoy Greg's antics. Her mind was racing ten miles a minute, toward an obvious possibility in front of her.
What if I'm really pregnant?
"Sara," Greg's voice rang out from downstairs. "Which door is it?"
Her husband lived so far. She was at the age where the chances of a healthy pregnancy were narrowed down significantly.
"The one to the right Greg. Near the kitchen," she shouted back while toeing her shoes off. The test-pack was held firmly in her hand, hidden inside the pocket of her jacket.
A picture of her, with Grissom and Hank, in front of Eiffel tower was on the refrigerator door. She stopped and stared at it blankly, wondering if a new addition to the family would really be needed in their already complete life.
"Phew, that was close." As if by magic Greg popped up in front of her. The happy grin still adorned his face and his eyes reflected the boyish shine that didn't help Sara's situation at all.
His trained eyes followed Sara's gaze and when they found the photograph on the door, his grin morphed into a genuine smile. "Missing them?"
"Huh?"
"Come on. You've been in your little bubble all day. If it wasn't for my super CSI skills, we wouldn't have solved the case," he teased. Wrapping an arm around Sara's shoulder he led her to sit at the kitchen counter.
As if in his own apartment, Greg opened kitchen cabinets with ease, finding one that hid glasses behind its doors. He then took a carton of orange juice from the refrigerator and poured the content into one tall glass. "Here, drink and tell…." He sat at the opposite side of the counter, pushing the glass toward Sara.
A full minute passed without a word from Sara and he sighed, his expression clouding with worry. "Or… you could also drink and rest… your choice."
"No… I'm sorry… I'm just…" Sara considered the person in front of her. Greg was a good friend, the best-est if she could say so. She could always rely on him for an honest, if not entertaining, opinion.
Catherine, maybe she was the perfect person to share this possibility of a life altering event with. Both Nick and Brass were good for brotherly, sometimes fatherly, advice. And you couldn't get enough of surprise when Ray started to talk. But Greg, with his hesitant yet caring eyes, gently staring at her from where he was sitting, was as clueless as her in this department.
This time, she needed cluelessness.
"It's okay, you don't have to talk now," Greg said, "Just get some rest and try not to think about it too much." He rose up to his feet, ready to go.
Sara cleared her throat. "Do you think I'm looking bigger?"
Greg's eyebrow shot half-way up his forehead. "What?"
Sara shrugged, her lips pursing in a smile of embarrassment. "Do you think I'm…" she touched her stomach, "…expanding?"
Greg stared at her with complete bafflement. He opened his mouth with a ready retort and then thinking better of it chanced a quick look to the rest of her body. He shrugged helplessly, his face screwing in uncertainty, "No?"
Sighing, Sara pulled her hand out of her pocket, the test-pack gripped tightly in her closed palm. She took a breath, a deep one, before opening her fingers. "Look." Her voice wavered.
"Is that? Whoa!" Greg's head bent down to see only to shoot up straight again. "Really?"
Sara closed her eyes and shook her head, ready to explain.
"Man, Grissom's scored before me." Greg was already in a trance, shaking his head in amazement.
"Greg. I haven't used it." Sara tapped the test against the counter. The square pink package hadn't even been opened yet.
"Oh. Yeah, sorry." Greg slumped back down on the breakfast stool, leaning closer. "So….,"
"So…," Sara parroted. Her word hung in the air as a big question more for herself than for Greg.
"To be honest, I saw the signs…. You had this weird sudden craving for peanut butter. Remember when you snatched my sandwich at Frank's? And the way you got instantly pale at our scene today… I positively think the result will be positive." With a beaming smile, Greg ended his sentence.
"What if I don't want it to be positive?" Sara averted her gaze from the pink box on the counter to the picture on the refrigerator.
"You don't?" Shock was written all over Greg's face.
"I don't know Greg." Sara leaned back on her chair, crossing both hands on her chest. "Do you ever picture me as a mother?"
"Well, not particularly. But… You are a good person Sara… someone with a good heart and good intentions. You might not be the best at everything but I bet my CD collection you'll not fail as a mother."
"I don't know Greg. I really don't know. We, Grissom and I, never really talk about this."
"Did he ever say that he was against the idea of being a father?"
"Not deliberately." Never in her mind had Sara ever thought of sharing this side of their conversations with anyone, let alone Greg. "But Grissom…" She exhaled. "Sometimes when he's in a foul mood, he brings up the age difference between us."
"It's no big deal, you know. Him, being…," Greg paused, "a little older."
"For me, it's not. For him, it is."
"Oh."
Sara grimaced at Greg's inability to compose a better reaction. "He loves me. Of that I'm sure. But sometimes he thinks he doesn't deserve me. And it annoys me that he thinks that way."
"I don't know about that. I know no one else who deserves each other like you two do." Greg smiled. "What about the talks about bugs and dead bodies only the two of you can understand?"
"And no one else can creepily finish Grissom's sentences like you do." He added enthusiastically.
"You are made for each other. It's as simple as that."
She let her eyes connect with Greg's, letting her doubts pour out until her heart felt a little more at ease. "It may not be positive at all."
"Let's find out then!" Greg exclaimed, almost standing up from his chair. "Or… come to think about it. I'll let you find out. I mean, we don't want us both in the bathroom right?"
"Nah, one shower experience with you is enough." Sara finally could smile. She snatched the box of pregnancy test from the counter and weighed it in her hand.
"You know. I can leave if you want me to. It's a private moment, for you, and for Grissom too."
After a moment of contemplation, Sara looked up to her best friend. "No. If you don't mind, I'd like to have some company. In case I lose my nerve."
"You sure?"
Sara gave a weak but confident nod.
"Sure your hubby won't kill me for knowing the results first?"
The genuine look of fear in Greg's eyes made Sara laugh. She shook her head no before turning around, headed to the bathroom. "Just don't mess with my ringtone again and I'll make sure Grissom knows nothing about you being here while I'm peeing on a stick."
To Be Continued….
So, kind and sweet readers, what do you think?