DISCLAIMER:
The CSI characters in this story were created by Anthony Zuiker and belong to CBS. Other characters and situations are the property of the author. Archiving elsewhere without written consent is prohibited.
Spoilers: 9x10 - One to Go
BETA: Jo, thank you!
AUTHOR'S NOTE: (very long note)
I started working on a post-ep for 9x5 - Leave Out All the Rest, but it was so angsty and depressing (and I don't particularly like to write Heather) that I lost interest and shelved the story. A 9x10 post ep was a pleasure to write, and although I know that some of you would rather I work on Summerhouse, consider this an exercise toward that goal. I haven't written fiction in quite some time and I'm rusty. To make matters worse, my work is almost exclusively in French now, so like it or not, my English vocabulary has suffered. On the upside, my French has greatly improved. All that to say, when the idea for "Time of our Lives" came to me, the first words of the story came out in French so I gave it a dash of French flavor with Éric and Izza Renaud.
This is my version of what happened when Gil and Sara reunited in Costa Rica. I needed to forgive Gil, and I think he needed to forgive himself, too. The story picks up right where the episode left off with that fabulous kiss. I hope you enjoy it.
(I posted the first four parts on Facebook, so if you read it there, you can skip to PART V for the end of the story.)
If you love something, set it free,
If it comes back to you, it is yours,
if it does not, it never was.
PART I
When Sara eased out of Gil's arms, the white-faced Capuchin she had been photographing had long since vanished into the lush Costa Rica rainforest. She gazed at her former fiancé's beautiful, tired face through moist lashes, her lips hot and tingling from the passionate kiss that had said better than words ever could that these feelings she and Gil once had for each other had not withered. He still loved her. She could see it in his eyes, in the small, uncertain smile pulling at his lips, in the mask of boyish vulnerability that would have made her love him more if that had been possible.
"How did you get here?" she asked in a strangled voice, when what she really wanted to know was how he found her and why and how long he was staying and whether she should allow herself to hope again or prepare herself for more heartache.
His eyes darkened to a deeper blue, a carbon copy of the color of the evening sky over the jungle moments before total darkness. Having been starved for the sight of him for far too long, Sara feasted her eyes on his face, watched him work through his own emotions, which tended to grab him by the throat in charged moments. His own eyes never left hers, every emotion on display, and when he reached out to touch her face with gentle fingers, Sara knew something had changed.
"Ten years ago I met a girl and fell in love..." he said, and Sara's breath caught. "I told myself that I was mistaken and that this feeling would pass. It was crazy anyway to want something I didn't have any hope of keeping, right? So, I tried not to love you, Sara. Sometimes I think I spent the better part of the last decade trying not to love you because if I didn't, not having you wouldn't hurt so much."
He drew her closer, let his forehead rest against hers. Sara closed her eyes. He had changed, she mused. The Gil she knew would sooner excuse a pedophile than express his feelings for her and their relationship. She used to tease him about his economy of words when conversations turned personal. She wouldn't be able to tease him about that anymore.
He loved her. Of course, she already knew that. Had known it. He made sure of it after his month-long sabbatical by leaving a love letter for her to find on her side of the bed. He had borrowed Shakespeare's words then to tell her that she was never far from his thoughts, and that thinking about her made him happy.
But he had not written those three words, let alone ever said them out loud to her. He had managed to ask her to marry him without ever saying 'I love you'. So, to hear the words now, especially when she had thought all was lost...
A tear trickled down her cheek and she screwed her eyes tightly shut. Damn. She didn't want to cry.
"Forgive me, Sara."
She glanced up at him, and in a tight voice, asked, "For what?"
"That day in my office, I was angry and I tried to manipulate you into staying by making you believe that my feelings for you would change if you didn't. It was wrong, and more than that, it was a lie. I just wanted the pain to stop." He swallowed hard and looked away, then looked back. "As it turned out, it was nothing compared to how much it hurt when you said you didn't want me anymore."
"I never said that."
"I know. But the first ten or so times I watched your video, that's what I heard." He winced, shaking his head as though angry with himself. "The truth is, Sara, I never wanted our relationship to end. You have made me happy in a way that no one and nothing else can. You're a part of me, of my life, and I don't want to let you go. That's what I should have said that day in my office, that I need you and that I can't bear the thought of losing you."
It was her turn to touch him. To reassure him. His beard was warm and rough under her fingers. "Gil, I—"
A discreet clearing of the throat made them turn to the male half of the husband-and-wife scientific team Green Earth Institute had hired to study predator interactions and dynamics in tropical habitats. There was a focus on ecology, but also on entomology... Sara smiled. Gil will love this, she thought looking back at him, her excitement barely contained, only to frown when she found him probing her with wary eyes.
"What?"
"Have I lost you?"
"What?" And then understanding dawned and she smiled, vowing to herself to prove to him just how much he had not lost her. But at the moment, there was a very amused scientist watching them, so Sara took hold of Gil's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "You could never lose me. Come, I want you to meet everybody.
Part II
Everybody for now was Dr. Éric Renaud, a French ecologist and the head of the team. Sara was on contract to him and his wife, Isabelle, for two months as a research assistant and staff photographer, although since joining the team three weeks before, her work had consisted mostly of taking technical photographs. But, every chance she got, she captured the living rainforest on camera for her own pleasure. Photography, which had been a necessary skill as a CSI, was quickly becoming a passion.
Gil and Éric shook hands as Sara introduced them. "Gil is an entomologist," she said and Éric arched a bushy brow.
"Vraiment? Please tell me that Green Earth sent you to me."
"No." Gil's eyes darted to Sara. "I came to see Sara."
"Well you could not have come at a better time."
"We lost our entomologist last week," Sara explained. "He was trying to catch a butterfly and tried to climb a tree that was too small for his weight; the branch snapped, he fell to the ground and broke his leg. He'll be out of commission for a while."
"It could have been worse," Éric added. "I was always telling Warren that he would break his neck if he did not stop chasing after the butterflies. 'But it was a Glasswing,' he said to me, as if this justified causing himself injury."
Gil's eyes grew large. "It was a Glasswing?"
Sara chuckled. "See? They're all the same."
"You are reckless as well, Dr. Grissom?"
"Very rarely. Of course, if the creature is unique and irresistible..." he shrugged while directing a meaningful glance at Sara and, helplessly, she felt her cheeks flush with pleasure. "Like a Glasswing..." he added, letting his voice trail off, and Sara swatted his arm playfully, the gesture a reminder of happier times.
Smiling, she turned to Éric. "Where's Izza?"
"Somebody called my name?"
As if on cue, Éric's wife stepped out of the tent, fresh from her shower, with a towel wrapped around her hair.
"Ah, Chérie, come meet Dr. Grissom," Éric said. "He is an entomologist, but malheureusement, he came for Sara—not for us. Dr. Grissom, this is my wife Isabelle, or Izza as everyone calls her."
"Enchantée, Docteur Grissom."
"Gil, please. And it's a pleasure to meet you both."
"So you are the man Sara has been pining for, then?" Izza asked, and Sara drew a quick breath. Izza gave her a gentle, knowing smile. "I am a woman, Sara. When I see so much sadness in another, I know a man is involved."
Sara caught a flicker of surprise in Gil's eyes before his expression gentled with tenderness. She sharply looked away. If she had felt herself blush before, it was nothing compared to the heat of embarrassment that burned her cheeks now. Feeling completely exposed, she searched for a quick change of subject and found it in the racket their three young research assistants made as they returned from their daily swim at the foot of the waterfall.
Sara quickly introduced the trio to Gil: Marcio from Brazil, Mario from France, and Marco from Italy.
"Really?" he said in a low, soft tone, clearly intended for Sara's ears only, but Izza overheard.
"Really," she answered, "and the similarities do not end with their names. We cannot forget they are here, so loud are they that they scare our birds away. Thank heaven and God in it that their energy serves us well."
"Ah, Madame Renaud, you know you love us. You love us so much that Monsieur Renaud is jealous," Mario said.
"Jaloux, moi ! De bébés comme vous? Izza préfère les hommes mûrs, merci beaucoup. Allez, filez avant que je vous rappelle qui est maître ici."
The guys laughed and after a round of 'nice-to-meet-you' directed at Gil, they left for the dining tent.
Sara had no idea what Éric said, but she knew that his bark was all act. He and Izza were two of the kindest people she had ever met. They ran the camp like a democracy. Beyond their professional obligations, all chores including cooking were shared on a rotational basis by the entire team, from Éric down to the research assistants. Sara remembered that it was Marco's turn to cook that night. As the son of a famous chef who had financed his education by working in his father's Florence restaurant, Marco's meals were always an event.
Sara was glad that it would be Marco cooking Gil's first meal here.
Izza voiced her sentiment. She slipped an arm through Gil's and started leading him to the dining tent, leaving Éric and Sara trailing behind them. "If it is true that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, then you will not want to leave us after you sample Marco's cooking."
Éric chuckled. "I doubt Gil came for the food, mon trésor. And must I remind you that there are other ways to a man's heart?"
Izza threw her husband an amused glance over her shoulder. "I was being polite, Éric. Our Sara embarrasses very easily. As does our Dr. Grissom, I suspect."
Actually, Sara thought, she and Gil weren't the least bit bashful. Introverts, yes, perhaps more guarded and private than most, but not shy. Gil merely smiled at the comment as he stepped inside the tent.
"I'm sure Gil can't stay long," Sara said, and then inwardly frowned at the sharp look he directed at her. "But you're right Izza... what better way to initiate him to our little camp than with a feast courtesy of our own Italian chef?"
Inside, Gil politely removed his hat and his hair was glued to his skull with sweat. Sara noticed for the first time that his shirt was soaked through as well, and heard his sigh of relief when he fell back into a chair. She felt a pang of guilt for not noticing his condition earlier.
She went to the refrigerator and came back with a bottle of ice-cold water. "Here. You look thirsty."
Gil glanced up and smiled. "Thanks." He drank half the bottle in one swallow before setting it on the table.
"You also look like you could use a shower," Sara said. "There's plenty of time before dinner."
He seemed relieved as he slowly rose to his feet. "That would be great." To Izza and Éric, he said, "Thank you both for your hospitality. I'll be much more presentable at dinner."
Izza gave him a warm smile. "You are welcome. Dinner is not for another hour and a half, so please take your time and make yourself comfortable."
Back outside, Gil flung his backpack over a shoulder and followed Sara down a narrow path to a wooden platform on which five small tents and a sixth, a slightly larger one that he deduced belonged to Éric and Izza, were raised.
He followed Sara into one of the smaller tents and detailed its content with a practiced eye: a narrow cot on one side made up with a light blue sheet, a sleeping bag neatly spread over it, and one pillow; next to the bed, a wooden crate holding a novel and a small table lamp. The tent had a floor, practical for keeping insects and reptiles out.
"Sorry," Sara said as she stuffed her camera into a large case laying on the floor at the foot of the bed next to her duffel bag. "It's not the Bellagio."
"Mmm..." Gil voiced absently, his eyes drawn to the small bed again, hardly big enough for one, let alone two. They would have to find a solution to that problem because ever since deciding to leave Las Vegas to join Sara on her adventure, the idea of waking up next to her every morning had never been far from his mind. "Will you be sharing it with me?" he finally asked.
"Well, it's not very big. You'd have more room in Warren's tent, and your own cot..." She must have sensed his chagrin for she immediately pursed her lips and raised her hands, saying, "Of course, I'd have to sneak out in the middle of the night to spend time with you—"
Gil dropped his bag on the floor, tossed his hat to the cot, and pulled her into his arms. "As long as you're with me, I don't care where I sleep."
His words created a flutter in Sara's heart and moved her to wrap her arms around his neck and slowly press her lips to his. His lips tenderly sank into hers, his pace perfectly slow and gentle, and his arms felt so good around her, solid, warm...safe. Could he really be here? Her heart still ached from the bone-deep conviction of the past few weeks that she would never see him again.
And there he was holding her, kissing her in a way that felt familiar and new all at once, and she realized that it was her own deficiencies that had been responsible for their break-up. She also realized that she had a decision to make, one that up until this very moment, she had not thought herself capable of making.
She tipped her head up and gazed at his face, at this man she had resigned herself to loving for the rest of her life, even knowing that she would never see him again, and her eyes brimmed with tears of joy.
"I missed you, so much..."
His long sigh sounded very much like relief. "I missed you, too," he said, hugging her to him, and then he drew back and looked at her, his eyes roaming over her features as though memorizing them. Tension grew, heavy, exciting, and then Gil crushed his mouth to hers, kissing her as fiercely as he had earlier in the clearing. But in every other way this kiss was different, more deliberate. It reminded her of how long her body had been deprived of his. And then, he groaned against her mouth.
"I really need a shower."
"Yeah?" Sara grinned. "I have an idea..."
PART III
One of Costa Rica's many cascading waterfalls was only a short hike from the camp and Sara couldn't wait to share it with Gil. She heard his breath catch when they rounded a bend in the path and he got his first look at the long ribbon of water splashing into the turquoise water of the lagoon below.
He stopped abruptly and stared, his mouth agape.
Sara smiled, remembering her own very similar reaction the first time she saw it. "Spectacular, isn't it?"
"You led me to paradise."
She laughed and leaned into him a little, playfully bumping her shoulder against his. "Not yet," she drawled and he shot her a scorching look that tripped her heart, making her order to 'strip' a little breathless as she crouched at the water's edge to launch the floating basket of vegetable-based shampoo and soap she had brought along.
"Yes, ma'am." Gil placed the bath towel he'd been carrying on one of the many boulders jutting out from the lagoon and unbuckled his belt. As he undid the button on his pants, he looked around uneasily. "Are we—"
"Don't worry. The guys have come and gone, and Éric and Izza used the shower at the camp, so...it's just you and me—and the monkeys."
"Well...I can be an exhibitionist, too" he said, sitting down on the rock. He reached for his boot lace and, casting a glance up at her, quipped, "Are you just going to stand there and watch?"
Sara laughed and went down on her knees in front of him, lifted a booted foot to her lap.
"That's not what I meant," Gil said, but he didn't object when she loosened his laces and hastily pulled off his boots, then his socks. He leaned back on his hands and watched her, his eyes glittering with affectionate amusement.
"I should be undressing you."
"I've already showered..."
"And your point is...?"
"Um...none, actually." She raised herself up on her knees between his legs and caught the tab of his zipper between her fingers, then slowly drew it down to reveal the black boxer-briefs and the mouth-watering bulge inside. Sara released a breath and unconsciously licked her lips as she looked up at him. "No point," she repeated. "Nada. In fact, I rarely—"
Gil reached down and drew her face up for a long, silencing kiss. Her lips were moist, welcoming, warm, as was the soft skin beneath his fingers as he traced the curve of her cheek, the long column of her throat, the valley between her breasts where he could feel her heart race. His fingers pulled at the buttons of her blouse, urgently undoing them one by one as his tongue sought the sweet taste of her mouth. Sara let out a soft moan, urging him to slip the blouse off her shoulders and unclasp her bra. Only then did he break the kiss for a look at her bared breasts.
Oh god, he needed her, wanted her with a fierceness he still didn't fully comprehend, except that no other woman had ever affected him so profoundly. And he knew something else: without her, he'd only been half alive.
A low rumble sounded in his throat as he dipped his mouth to her breasts, tongued her nipples, sucked them, the heat of his mouth burning her skin and hardening them to painful little nubs. On a gasp, Sara spread her fingers through the damp curls at the back of his skull and held him firmly against her breast.
"When I think of how close I came to losing you—"
"Shhh..." Sara pressed a finger to his lips. "Let's not... Let's enjoy this moment," she said very softly.
His eyes lingered on her face for a moment before he nodded and dropped his gaze, watching her closely as she removed her pants and underwear.
There wasn't an inch of her skin that Gil hadn't seen hundreds of times before, or that he hadn't explored with his hands and his mouth. Yet under his appreciative scrutiny now, Sara felt the heat of a flush working its way up from her knees to her cheeks. She groaned in frustration and turned her flaming face away.
"Are you just going to sit there and stare?"
"You look great in red," he teased, rising to his feet to shed the rest of his clothes.
Sara shook her head. "I can't believe you're making fun of me. You know how much I hate looking like a, like a...tomato."
"Not a tomato. Adorable," he corrected. "I love that I can still make you blush."
In truth, she knew that it was the way she blushed that had always fascinated Gil; from her knees up, in a slow sweep. She had absolutely no control over the way her skin reacted to the male hunger in his eyes when they devoured her naked curves, just as she had no control over the pulsing ache between her thighs now as she grew moist and expanded to welcome his bigger, harder body.
He looked magnificent as he stood naked and half erect in front of her, arousing her body, heart, and soul in a way only he knew how. Their connection had always been intense, both physically and emotionally, from the first time they had made love more than three years ago. It had been the most memorable sexual experience of Sara's life, and not only because he had made her wait an eternity for him, but because she had never burned quite so hot or forgotten herself quite so completely with any other man before, and certainly not since.
He was still the only man who could arouse her, period, let alone to such a feverish pitch, and if over time their fire had settled into a gentle flame, their separation had stoked it again, making it burn as urgently, as hot and all consuming as it had in the beginning.
There was a current of desire filling the air between them now, exciting them both, making their breathing equally heavy. A little moan of anticipation escaped Sara's lips as Gil took her hand in his and led her into the warm water of the lagoon, toward the cascading waterfall, then beyond to a secluded spot behind the long rope of water, and into his arms.
At last.
PART IV
"Hold on, baby."
Distracted by the noisy splash of the waterfall and the intense physical and emotional pleasure of being joined with him again, Sara almost missed the endearment he only used when in the throes of passion.
Almost.
'Hold on' he said, and she did, with her arms wrapped around his shoulders and her legs locked around his waist as he moved her body up and down his, effortlessly in the chest-deep water of the lagoon.
Her breath was coming rapidly, her heart was racing, her body, straining, reaching... And Gil knew, felt that she was close, and held himself deeply into her, his thrusts shallow as he stroked her just so, as only he knew how, until her body shattered.
Immediately, he cried out, his own orgasm pulsing powerfully inside her, and they both held on as they rode an astoundingly long climax together. After her heartbeat had settled a little and she could catch her breath, Sara drew back to kiss him and was stunned to find his eyes swimming in tears. And when a tear broke free and trickled down his cheek, he hid his face in her neck and Sara continued holding him in silence.
Several minutes passed before she spoke. "I've decided," she said, her chin buried in his shoulder. "When you leave, I want to go back with you."
She felt him still, and held her breath as he drew back to look at her. His eyes were dry now, and he was looking at her curiously.
"I thought you said you couldn't live in Vegas."
"I'd like to try if it means being with you."
"You'd come back for me?"
Sara shook her head. "No," she said. "For me. Look, I thought I was doing the right thing by walking away, that it was what you wanted—"
"It wasn't—"
She lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "I kept waiting, thinking someday we'll be happy. You'll want to be with me—"
"I did—"
"—and then it hit me. You were unhappy and it was my fault. You asked me to stay and I couldn't. You couldn't make the decision I needed you to make so I decided. I wanted to be the brave one and let you go so you could get on with your life."
In his eyes, Sara saw echoes of the sadness that came with that decision, and lifted a tender hand to his cheek. "It wasn't really brave, you know." She swallowed past the two-month old lump in her throat, and blinked back fresh tears. "I was just so afraid you'd start hating me if I didn't, and I couldn't live with that."
Gil pulled her into a bear of a hug. "I could never hate you. And for the record, you weren't the one at fault." He drew back to look at her. "Our relationship was always on my terms. From the day we met, in fact. Sometimes, I think I was testing you, pushing to see how far I could... But you never gave up...well, not until—" He gave his head a quick shake. "After agonizing over your video for a few days, I watched it without sound and I could finally hear what you were saying, not with your voice, but with the smiles that didn't reach your eyes, and I realized...all these years, you loved me unconditionally, and you were still doing it by allowing me to move on without guilt.
"I don't think I realized just how much you really loved me until that moment. It was such a humbling experience, Sara, and the most unselfish thing I could think of doing in return was leave Vegas and come find you."
"I'm glad you did."
"So am I."
After a moment, Sara said, "Wait. You left Las Vegas? For good?"
Gil nodded. "I quit CSI. We never have to live in Vegas again."
Sara's jaw dropped. "You quit your job...your career?"
"Yep."
"For me?"
"Nope," he replied, giving her a small smile. "For me." Then, he drew a long breath. "Turns out I don't know how to be happy without you. No place feels right. Not home, not work, not Vegas. The job is just a job, Sara. I can find another one anywhere I choose. But I can't find another you."
"Did you look?" she blurted out and immediately wished she could take the words back.
Fortunately, Gil took the question in jest. "Hank and I wandered the streets, day after day, like two lost puppies, searching..."
Sara chuckled. "God, I forgot about Hank. Where is he?"
"I left him with Jennifer and promised him I would come get him as soon as I found you and convinced you to take us back."
"Gil...I don't know. Are you sure about quitting CSI? What if you regret it someday?"
"I have few regrets, Sara, but the ones I do have are not about things I did, but about the things I didn't do. The decisions I didn't make. I cheated us both out of a really good life. I know that now."
Softly, she said, "Don't be so hard on yourself. We had our moments, you know. Even in the beginning."
"Well, I want more. Starting now."
DINNER WAS EVERYTHING Sara and Izza had promised Gil. And he more than did it justice, his trek in the jungle, and, Sara thought, the energy he'd dispensed at the waterfall, had sharpened his appetite.
Marco was visibly pleased. Sitting on Gil's left, so was Sara. How could she not be when their bodies were touching from hip to knee? His left hand had sought her thigh and returned frequently throughout dinner. Outside the bedroom, and especially in public, Gil was not a touchy-feely kind of guy, but he seemed very different today, more open, more at ease with their relationship, and Sara was not about to object. She didn't normally go for clingy, but she would take his attentiveness while it lasted.
After dinner, the students moved outside to start on their nightly ritual of lighting a fire where they would sit and socialize until bed time. Soon, they were joining them. To Éric's undisguised relief, Gil had accepted to replace Warren until he was well enough to come back to work.
"You are a life saver, Gil," Éric said as they left the dining tent.
"I'll have what I need shipped from Vegas to base camp first thing in the morning."
"Good. Good. Come with me and I will give you Warren's files. You should probably take a day or two to familiarize yourself with his part of the study before venturing out."
Gil looked at Sara and gave her hand an affectionate squeeze just as Izza excused herself to use the facilities. Izza would return, but the last thing Sara wanted to do tonight was sit around a fire and chew the fat with her colleagues.
Not addressing anyone in particular, she said, "Actually, it's been a long day. I think I'll turn in." The look she and Gil exchanged said much more. She would be waiting for him. He wouldn't be long. Sara let go of his hand and said, "See you all in the morning," before following Izza out of the clearing.
As soon as they were far enough so the others wouldn't hear, Izza said in a low voice, "You and Gil need some time alone. I am sure we can manage without you tomorrow."
"Thanks," Sara said, "that's very kind. But knowing him, he'll want to jump right in."
"Perhaps. Perhaps not. I like him, your Gil. He feels much passion for you. I can see it in his eyes when he looks at you. Not many people find that in a lifetime. You are lucky."
"Yes. I am."
"Yet, you do not believe it."
Sara looked at her curiously. "What?"
"I saw the change in you immediately, Sara. You are happier, I can tell, but with reservation, and he senses it. He seems insecure in your love."
Sara chuckled at that. "I've always loved him. Believe me, he knows."
"Then why is it that he follows you everywhere with his eyes? Why is he always holding on to you when you are near, as though he is afraid you will vanish if he does not?"
"Maybe he missed me."
"Perhaps. I do not know what kept you apart, and it is not my business. But whatever it was, he travelled far to be with you. Do not take that kind of devotion for granted, Sara."
"I won't," she replied, but Izza's soft words, spoken with motherly affection, touched Sara. She'd had very little contact with her own mother since...that night. Her mother had never even met Gil, although they had briefly spoken on the phone once. Sara wondered what she would think of him, of their relationship, if she met him. Would she see what Izza sees? Sara mentally shook her head. She wouldn't. Laura Sidle had very little respect left for any man, and more than that, she didn't trust them.
As kindly as Izza's words were meant, the truth in them had also rubbed a soft spot in Sara. She didn't want to be the kind of woman who held grudges, or a cynic; she didn't want to be her mother. But with Gil, she suspected that a part of her would always be braced for disappointment. As much as she loved him, Sara wasn't blind to his faults. How could she trust that he wouldn't suddenly take off when another teaching opportunity came up, or run off to be at Heather's side the next time she needed him to save her from herself. Sara still winced at what she'd had to endure from the rumor mill after his last rescue mission. And the egocentric that Gil could be at times, making him utterly oblivious, still didn't understand why that had hurt her, when, in his own words, he'd simply been helping a friend.
But loving him meant accepting his less desirable qualities. As he accepted hers. She had her own annoying quirks and he'd proved to be as tolerant of them as she'd tried to be of his. She would no sooner expect him to change than he would ask it of her.
But something had changed. He gave up his job, his career, his friends to be with her. Her lungs suddenly expanded as full realization of what he had done and what it meant sank in for the first time. He did love her enough; he really did want to be with her. And then something happened to her. All of a sudden, it was as though something had broken free inside her. The darkness she had lived with for so long was gone and everything around her seemed new, hopeful, like anything was possible, any dream attainable.
Her heart suddenly lighter, Sara flew into action. She slid the mattress off her cot onto the floor, and then dragged her cot to Warren's tent. She lugged his mattress back and arranged it next to her own. After adding fresh sheets and pillows, the resulting three-quarter bed looked relatively inviting.
Sara cast a critical eye around her small tent, then quickly rearranged her meager possessions and Gil's to give them maxium floor space. She looked around, satisfied. The early evening was warm and humid, and beyond the canvas walls, the sounds and smells of the rain forest managed to make the small, bare-bones tent look exotic.
Now, if only she could look more exotic. Not that she ever had, really. Still, rummaging through her supply of practical clothes, she looked for something more alluring than the boxers and tank tops she wore to bed most nights.
And she found it. It wasn't silk or satin. Not even sexy. But she did feel sexy when she wore it. As she stripped down to her lacy white panties—at least she had decent underwear—she wondered if Gil would recognize the white, cotton undershirt as his. She pulled it over her head and imagined she could still smell him on the soft fabric, despite having washed it several times in the last few months.
It was way too big for her, of course, the V-neck too wide for her smaller frame so that it instantly slipped off a shoulder, but it wasn't overly long, the hem barely falling mid-thigh, leaving a long expanse of leg bare.
Sara was debating the merits of slipping into bed to wait for him, striking a seductive pose, maybe—she shook her head; who was she kidding?—when she heard the rasp of the zipper on the front flap. She turned to face the door with her breath in her throat and a thousand butterflies fluttering around in her stomach. She didn't have time to ponder why she was so nervous, he was inside and she was wiping her moist hands down the sides of her shirt, and then he stopped and looked at her with so much naked adoration that any lingering doubts vanished with the butterflies and she could breathe again.
She smiled and followed his gaze to the makeshift bed, turned down for the night. There was a sparkle in his eyes when he looked back at her.
"And you said it wasn't the Bellagio."
Laughter poured out of her, so naturally, so easily. Then, he laughed, too, and brought a hand out from behind his back to reveal a beautiful orchid.
"For you," he said.
For a moment, Sara was too touched to speak. Other than the orchid he had sent her as an apology years ago, and a stick with a cocoon he had sent from the Walden Pond Research Center while on sabbatical, Gil had never offered her flowers.
"It's beautiful," she said.
His eyes never leaving hers, Gil tucked the flower into her hair, and then dropped a soft, open-mouth kiss on her bare shoulder. Another brought his lips closer to her throat, then another... He trailed moist kisses up the long line of her neck to her ear, where he nibbled on the lobe. Sara gasped softly, her body quivering, and Gil wrapped her in his arms, molding her body to his. "You're beautiful," he whispered.
And she believed him.
PART V
Sara woke up from the most restful night's sleep she'd had in recent memory. She didn't have to open her eyes to know that dawn had not yet broken. The rain forest was still relatively silent. Soon, the birds and the monkeys would start the cacophony of noises that were their constant companions from daybreak to nightfall. But for now, they were quiet, still sleeping, as was Gil, lying behind her, his left arm losely draped across her waist.
Sara snuggled back into him and he nuzzled her neck, tightening his arm around her. Smiling, she clung to the moment, let herself fully experience the sparks of desire prompted by his warmth and the swell of his morning erection against her bottom. It brought back memories of the exquisite way he had made love to her the night before. Slowly, reverently, reacquainting himself with every inch of her body, loving her in a way that eliminated any doubt, if an iota had still lingered in the part of her brain that housed her chronic insecurity, that she was a part of him, his body, his soul.
And for the first time in her life, Sara knew, really knew, what it felt like to belong.
They had talked, too. He had told her about how he met Ray Langston, his initial impressions and his belief that he would be an asset to the lab; he told her that Catherine had sensed, perhaps even before he did, that he would be leaving Vegas; they chuckled over Hodges' behavior and David's tearful reaction to his news.
They talked until his words became whispers of love and need, and there was nothing left to say about the past beyond a brief melancholic moment they shared as they remembered the work family they had left behind.
Sara opened her eyes and squinted against the faint light of day as she listened to Gil's sleep-steady breathing. Now secure in a love bigger than any obstacle life could throw at them, she couldn't wait for him to wake up so they could begin the first day of the rest of their lives together.
And then she didn't have to wait because the haunting call of the howler monkey came, and Gil shot bolt upright on a shout of surprise, clutching his chest with the palm of his hand. "What the--"
Laughter bubbled inside Sara until she could no longer contain it, and he looked at her with an equal dose of irration and confusion.
Okay, gorgeous Dr. Grissom, love of her life, guy who had spent half the night doing imaginative things to her body, wasn't amused, so Sara tried to control her mirth. "It's just a howler monkey," she said. "They wake us up every morning."
"Jesus," Gil said, falling back onto the mattress. "My heart is still racing."
"You'll get used to it."
"Mm." He rolled over on his side and kissed her lightly on the lips. His eyes were filled with affection as he greeted her the same way he had for two years. "Hi."
Sara took a deep breath to slow down her own heart, which was racing for very different reasons. "Hi," she replied softly. "Did you sleep well?"
"Better than I have in a very long time." Gil lay back, pulled her into his arms, and dropped a kiss on her forehead. Sara gave a happy sigh as she settled against him. For a while they were silent, each listening to the sounds of the jungle waking up. And then, the monkey let out another throaty howl.
"Alouatta palliata," Gil remarked. "The mantled howler. The loudest of all monkeys. You can hear them from as far as three miles away. Judging from the sound of this one, he's much closer than that."
Sara chuckled.
"What?"
"Your encyclopedic memory still impresses me."
"Yeah?"
"Yes. But there's no need, you know."
"No need for what?"
"To impress me."
"Really? This from the woman who was very vocal in her appreciation of my considerable knowledge last night?"
"Well, in my defense, you did have some surprising new moves." She lifted herself on an elbow and looked down at him. "Should I worry about where you learned them?"
Gil's eyes glinted, and for a moment she thought he wouldn't answer. But then, he said, "Books have been the source of most of my learnings, Sara. I lived in my head most of my life, and for years, you featured in my fantasies. I thought of making love with you in every way imaginable, and in my fantasies, you always responded very positively." Gil smiled to himself, and then sobered as he continued. "When we got together and I could finally make all my fantasies come true, I was worried about how you would react to some of them."
"You weren't worried last night."
"Nope."
"Why not?"
Gil contemplated her question, then pulled her down into his arms. "Because you could have felt repulsed by me and dumped me for a number of damn good reasons over the past ten years and you're still here," he said, tugging her even closer to him. "I trust you."
"We seem to have traveled on paralleled journeys. I trust you, too."
"I'm glad."
Sara closed her eyes and let out a long, satisfied sigh as she relaxed against Gil. They had always cherished waking up together, spending some time in bed, sometimes in quiet contemplation, and at other times sharing their thoughts as they waited for the sun or the moon to rise depending on whether it was a work or off day. This morning, they lay on a thin, lumpy mattress in a stifling tent three-thousand miles from home, listening to the jungle come to life, and Sara had never felt happier.
"Did you hear that?" she whispered.
"What?"
"Listen."
Just beneath the rhythm of the jungle, they could hear a low, continuous sound that didn't seem to belong.
"I don't know what that is," Gil admitted.
"I do. Here's a hint. It's a mammal."
"Well, that narrows it down."
Sara smiled. "It walks on two feet."
"An ape?"
"Prettier," she said, stretching up to whisper in his ear. "Izza."
Gil looked at her. "You mean..."
"Yes. You could set your clock to it every morning."
"Well, they have a very healthy sex life."
"I don't know about that. Morning sex is so..."
"Cliché'd?" Gil supplied, amusement twinkling in his eyes.
"I was going to say opportunistic."
"Ah. True. A morning erection has little to do with arousal. Is that why you never give me any... encouragement in the morning?"
Sara eyed him teasingly. "Maybe. Or maybe I know how much you enjoy just cuddling with me."
"Very funny, Miss Sidle."
Funnier still, was how they continued listening shamelessly to the grunts and moans coming from the neighboring tent, and Gil's surprising commentary, which bordered on the hilarious when he started analyzing each sound the way he would a fine symphony, so that by the time he announced the lead up to the crescendo by whispering theatrically, "The cello and double bass built to a suspenseful need for resolution," Sara was in stitches.
"Stop," she pleaded, "stop or I'll wet the mattress."
Their laughter slowly ebbed to soothing sighs, but the dose of endorphins it had released left them feeling happy and relaxed. Dawn had broken, and for a moment, they lay quietly, shoulder to shoulder, staring at the canvas ceiling.
"There's a spider," Sara whispered. "A big one."
"I see it. It's a Golden Orb. It looks dangerous but it's quite harmless. They're so tame that they'll even let other, smaller spiders into their web." Without pause and in the same conversational tone, he added, "If we got married, do you think they'd give us a bigger tent?"
Sara's breath caught and she looked at him, surprisingly stunned given that he had proposed to her once before. Gil rolled over and hooked a finger around the strap of his backpack, drawing it closer. He reached inside and drew out a small black velvet box. Sara propped herself up on her elbow and stared at the ring box in his hand, and then at him.
"One of my greatest regrets in the past year was not dragging you to the nearest chapel the minute you agreed to marry me. I thought, maybe if we had been married, things would have been different. Maybe you wouldn't have left. But I didn't have a ring, and it took me a while to find one that I thought would suit you." He opened the box to reveal a brilliant square-cut diamond set in a platinum band.
"Gil, it's... it's stunning."
"Does that mean you'll wear it?"
"Yes. Of course. I'll wear it always."
Sara's heart swelled as he removed the ring from the box and slipped it on the fourth finger of her left hand. It was a perfect fit, which didn't surprise her, and as if to seal their engagement, Gil kissed the ring and then her hand.
"Marry me soon?" he asked, and she answered him, not with words for there was no room for words in between their lips.
EPILOGUE
The satellite connection was excellent. Catherine's voice came to him as clearly as if she had been in the next room. She was surprised to hear from him so soon, but less so when he explained why he was calling.
"Ship everything to the Research Station," he said, giving her the address.
"You just retired from CSI, Gil. Don't you want to take a break before starting on your next career?"
"This isn't a career. It's a temporary position. And I will take some time off, soon. I'm coming to Vegas in a few days to pick up Hank, and to get married."
"What? Are you with Sara?"
"Yep." Gil looked up at Sara who was sitting across the table from him. Her joy was palpable, and he held her hand, absently running his thumb over the ring he had given her that morning. "And Cath," he said, "We'd like all of you to attend our wedding."
"We'll be there. Wow. Marriage, Gil. Congratulations to both of you, and give my love to Sara."
"Will do."
"You're happy, aren't you? What am I saying, of course you're happy. I can hear it in your voice. You probably have that goofy look on your face, too."
Gil laughed. "Probably. I am happy, Cath. In fact, you can tell everyone that I'm having the time of my life."
THE END
A/N: This story ended up being much longer than originally planned. I was reluctant to let Grissom and Sara go, so I kept writing and the story took some silly turns and probably got overly sentimental, but in the end, it made me feel good and I hope it had the same effect on you.