TITLE: Out on a Limb
AUTHOR: coolbyrne
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, blah, blah, freakin' blah.
SPOILERS: None.
FEEDBACK: Compliments/constructive criticisms are greatly appreciated. Flames will be gleefully mocked in other forums. Send any combination of the above to: coolbyrne@as-if.com
SUMMARY: Response to a challenge by the Unbound board. First and last lines are given. The rest is mine. GSR
A/N: My first fic in almost three months and it's… fluff? Yeah, no one's more surprised than me, let me tell you. I didn't pass this one by my beta reader, as I didn't want to be responsible for any dentist bills she may incur after reading this offering of sweetness. *grin* Any and all errors are mine.
Bunching up her wedding dress, Sara climbed out the window.
The outstretched limb of ancient tree that had seen the escapes of generations of children now assisted a giggling adult. Her bare feet nimbly walked across the thick branch towards a tuxedo'd man whose hand was extended towards her. His other hand was wrapped firmly around the doorframe of the makeshift tree house, another witness to generations of children.
She reached out and took his hand, closing the distance between them.
"You're crazy!" she exclaimed, though her smile betrayed her admonishment.
Grissom smirked and pulled her into the tree house. "Then it's probably a good thing you find that out now, before we're married."
She grinned again, her arms around his shoulders. "I'd have to be crazy to marry you, so I shouldn't complain."
"Having second thoughts?"
Though his voice was playful, there was something in his eyes. Sara frowned. "No. God, no." Tilting her head, she pulled back slightly. "Are you?"
He wrapped his finger around a stray curl of her hair and leaned forward, bringing it to his lips. "No. God, no."
"Good to hear. Greg would be heartbroken. He's been writing that reception speech for weeks." She waited for his smile, then got serious again. "And I would be devastated."
He kissed her hard on the lips. "Me, too."
Sara looked around the little tree house, as if seeing it for the first time. "So what are we doing here? You're not supposed to see the bride before the ceremony; it's bad luck."
He laid his jacket down on the wooden floor and motioned for her to sit. Collecting the train of the dress, she precariously lowered herself onto his jacket and he sat beside her. He rested his forearms on his bent knees and she laced one arm through his.
"What do you think about putting in an offer on this tree house?"
Her laughter was muffled by his shoulder as she leaned in. "I don't know; it needs a bit of work."
"I could find the time," he offered, as if seriously giving it thought. "Just you and me; we could pull up the rope ladder and leave the world behind us."
She traced the outline of his ear with her finger. "Is that why you coerced your knees and me up here? To leave the world behind us?"
Shrugging, he replied, "This is supposed to be our day, but I suspect we won't have much time together." He kissed her forehead. "I just wanted to be with you a bit longer."
"We'll have our whole lives to be with each other after today."
"I know, I know. It's just… the work we do, I've learned how precious life is, and how quickly it can be taken away. And we've wasted so much time already, Sara…" his voice trailed off.
She shifted her position so she could face him. Placing a finger against his lips, she shook her head. "We can't change what's been done. We're here now. On our wedding day, Gris." Her eyes widened in disbelief. "Our wedding day!"
He saw the surprise on her face and was lured by it. His mouth fell open and he repeated, "Our wedding day!" They looked at each other and started to laugh. "I'm getting married!" he exclaimed, as if the idea had just been presented to him.
"We're getting married," she corrected.
"To each other," he added.
She tried to glower at him, but the smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. Adjusting his tie, she softly whispered, "I love you."
With the same amount of reverence he said, "And that will never cease to astound me." He took her left hand in his; two hands bereft of jewelry or adornments, an oversight to be rectified by the end of the day. He smiled at the thought.
"What else do you love?" he asked.
She pursed her lips and looked off to the side, as if giving it considerable thought. "I love rolling over in the middle of the night and finding you there. I love looking up from my work and seeing you across the room. I love fighting with you because then we make up. And I love making up with you." The last comment was accompanied by another smirk and a sly wink.
Rolling his eyes, he sighed, "I didn't ask you to name all the things you love that involve me."
"I know," she answered, "but those are important things to me, and the first things that came to mind."
"You're never far from mine, either."
"Listen to us," Sara laughed, "the closer we get to the ceremony, the more we sound like Hallmark cards."
"Good thing we don't write them. With our track record, most would be blank."
"Well, actions do speak louder than words." She absently flattened his tie again. "My Mr. Knightley." When his eyebrows rose in question, she gave one of her own. "How many times have I called you 'Gil'?"
Now it was his turn to give considerable thought. "I don't know. Five, maybe six? You're quoting Jane Austen to me now?"
"I try and leave the Shakespeare to you."
"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate…," Grissom paused, as if doubting his quote.
"No, that's right," Sara offered. "Even I know that one."
"Oh, I know the quote's right," he answered, "I'm just not sure I would call you 'temperate'."
Her mouth dropped and she began slapping his chest. His laughter only made it worse.
"That's it," she pouted, "the honeymoon is off!"
Grissom was saved from another assault by the sound of Sara's name being called by someone on the ground. She put a finger to her lips and whispered, "Shhhhh." Standing up, she poked her head through the homemade window of the tree house and looked down.
"What?"
Practically jumping out of his skin, Nick Stokes craned his neck upwards. "Jesus, Sara, give me a heart attack why dontcha?"
"Sorry!"
"What the hell are you doing up there anyway? You've got a wedding to get to in," he flicked out his wrist, "less than two hours. Weirdo."
Before Grissom could break his cover with another laugh, Sara gave him a soft kick. "Listen, meat stick, just because you actively participate in the consumption of innocent animals, doesn't make me a weirdo for loving vegetation."
Nick put his hands on his hips. "Is that why you're up there? You figured, 'Ah, it's only my wedding day; gotta make time to become one with nature'? I stand by my original assessment, weirdo. What am I supposed to tell Grissom if he asks where you are?"
"First," she patiently began, as if speaking to a child, "Grissom doesn't need to know where I am. It's bad luck if he sees me before the ceremony. As long as I'm at the altar, that's all he needs to know." Another soft kick found its way to Grissom's side. "Second, if you have to tell him anything, you can tell him… tell him I love trees."
Nick snorted. "Whatever. Now get your ass down here before I come up." He shook his head again as he saw her make her way across the thick limb of the tree, back to the window. He missed the wink Sara gave as she looked back at the tree house. "Sheesh," he muttered and shook his head. "I love trees."
-end
"I love trees."