A/N: You knew we would not stay away! We are not sure where this one will end, but decided to get a jump start on what we will see tonight, and write our ending to be what we want!! Nearly all fluff and romance!

A Few Days in the Pacific

The ocean stretched from horizon to horizon blending into a blue sky that seemed to merge into one seamless canvas. Sara leaned against the solid wall of the ship and sucked in air. She breathed again, deeply bringing in the salty air as she listened to the noise above her head. She had sent her message to Grissom. It had taken nearly thirty days to work up courage to send it. She had written and re-written the words she wanted to say until she had each word memorized—she had practiced in front of the little bathroom mirror.

One of the young men on the ship had helped her with the video set-up and then left her alone to send it. There was limited time each day to send messages and everyone on board seemed to have a dozen emails a day to answer or send. Except Sara.

She had signed on for a forty-five day trip circling the National Heritage site of the Galapagos Island, pulling illegal commercial fishing lines from protected waters, releasing fish, dolphins, and turtles. Until the ship left port, she held onto hope that Grissom would come, or even call with an encouraging message. He had not.

The first five days she was seasick; the ship's crew had treated her as a fellow mate immediately, bringing her their home remedies, extra patches, a pressure bracelet, in efforts to help her get her "sea legs". She drank gallons of ginger tea, ate crackers, and swallowed motion sickness pills. The captain supported her as she walked around the upper deck watching the horizon and held her head as she puked over the side. The crew and group of volunteers provided impossible promises that her sickness would pass.

On the eighth day, the sun came up and her sickness was gone just as quickly as it appeared. Everyone took credit for their remedy working. She was happy to be able to eat, breathe fresh air, and join the work and discussions outside of her small room.

Sara, as the newest volunteer on board, was treated to dolphin sightings, whales breaching, every school of hammerhead sharks that anyone spotted. And she worked. By her second week, she had learned the art of doing laundry on a ship. The cook discovered her vegetarian experience and quickly made her an assistant—almost all meals were vegetarian on these excursions—and she knew the fine cuisine of peanut butter sandwiches and bean soup and soy milk. Meals improved and compliments followed.

By the time the ship reached protected waters, Sara, as well as the other volunteers, had been trained in what to expect. Most of the work would not be pretty or clean or easy. The crew spotted illegal floats at daylight. With short breaks for meals, the floats and fishing lines with hooks as large as a hand were pulled aboard. Fish and dolphins were cut from hooks and tangled lines. A few turtles were found—large and small. The marine biologist estimated an age of seventy years for the largest one. All were released; some would live and some would die, but none would end up as someone's dinner on this day.

By nightfall, exhausted, aching bodies sat at the common dining table and considered their day well-spent. Food and drinks revived a few as plans were made to continue their work as soon as the sun was up.

The ship plowed a tight circle around the islands until one day, the crew pointed to the horizon and said "land"—Sara tried for hours to actually see land while they pulled in fishing lines and set the hooked 'catch' free. Hundreds of hooks and miles of monofilament line had been lifted from the sea and stored below decks. Late that day, the local marine patrol boat arrived, bringing paperwork, baskets of fresh fruits and vegetables, and mail to the ship.

Sara would end her ship board days at the end of the week when the ship docked for fuel and additional supplies. In six weeks, the group had become a temporary family to her. The young men has teased and flirted, the young women had sought her for hearing their secrets, and the few who were near her own age learned little about Sara except she was a serious worker who talked little about herself, and, before she left them, most realized they knew no more about Sara Sidle at her departure than they had known on her arrival.

The last night on the ship was designated as a party for Sara and the marine biologist. Four new volunteers would take their place. But tonight, the group ate fresh mangos and avocados, flat bread and beans, tomatoes and potatoes, joined by a local support crew who also brought music.

When someone decided to dance to the new music, the women, outnumbered two to one, were immediately claimed as partners. On the freshly washed deck, Sara danced and laughed with everyone, briefly forgetting how many days had passed since she had spoken to Gil Grissom, but as firm arms circled her waist and hands held hers, she did remember. Finally, the last night she slept in the narrow cot, she held a photograph in her hand and cried as she remembered what she had refused to think about for weeks.

The second phase of her journey was the Darwin Station near Puerto Ayora. Sara packed her few belongings, removed her photographs from the wall around the bed, and left the small spartan room exactly as she found it. The marine biologist held her hand as she jumped into the small boat taking them to distant dock. She smiled.