A/N: It has been a long time since I had the urge to write anything. This is a sequel to The Journey of 1000 Miles and The Destination, but it can stand alone. Thanks much to the wonderful M for the quick beta. You are a rock star! The next chapter will be posted by January 26th. Enjoy. There will be smut!
The hard part was finished. He walked out of the lab and into the bright sunlight. As he said many years before, there had been no party and no cake. The final moments he spent with his coworkers were personal, yet dignified; with barely contained emotions threatening to boil to the surface. He climbed into his car and drove to the hotel he called home for the past month, ever since he sold his furniture and the townhouse. After Sara left, it hadn't seemed like much of a home anymore.
At the hotel he took a thorough shower and washed the invisible grime of the DJK from his body. "I will never be there again," he said to his reflection in the mirror. He debated for a full thirty seconds about whether or not to shave his beard. He knew the jungle floor of Costa Rica would be brutally hot and it would be more sanitary to be clean shaven. But he knew Sara liked the softness of the whiskers on her body.
Staring in the mirror a while longer, he wondered if she would be glad to see him? Would she know that this decision was his final one and he was choosing to spend the rest of his life with her?
He threw his clothes away. It seemed like the smart thing to do. He only had a few minutes left until it was time to check out, so there was no time to do laundry and he couldn't throw them in a box to leave them unwashed for months. He finished packing his rucksack and took one last look at the room. It would be a long time before he would have the luxury of indoor plumbing and electricity, let alone room service and satellite television.
The drive to his storage unit passed without incident. He unloaded the half a dozen boxes containing the remnants of his office. He had thoughtfully left the fetal pig behind, in the bottom drawer of the desk. He laughed to himself as he thought of the yelp Catherine would give when she went to open the drawer. But then, knowing Catherine and her organization skills, it could be months before she had a use for that extra file drawer. But it might be less with Conrad's promotion and all the double shifts she was likely to pull as a result.
Carefully pulling his car into the storage space, he found that he almost had to climb out through the sunroof. He may have possessed a genius IQ, but in his hurry to get on with his life, he hadn't left enough room to open the door. He did have to climb over the seat and exit through the rear passenger door.
Walking to the storage complex office, he called the taxi company.
He paid for a year in advance, even though he knew he would be back sooner than that. He made polite small talk with the receptionist and gave her Jim's contact information. He would be the one to call if anything happened to the storage space while he was gone. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the cab pull up outside. Before he knew it, he was through security at McCarran and on the plane.
Houston had been a complete blur and he slept fitfully on both planes. Nine hours later he landed at the Juan Santamaria International Airport in San Jose, Costa Rica. When the first blast of humidity hit his face he had a moment of complete culture shock.
He let his mind wander to what he would be doing if he was in Vegas. Probably just waking up, having that first cup of coffee with CNN or Discovery playing in the background. He also wondered how Greg and Hank were getting along.
Greg insisted he would be a foster parent to Hank, but no matter what he would always belong to Sara and Grissom. Each time Grissom visited him during that last month, he felt like an intruder. Hank had taken a liking to one of Greg's dolls – no, action figure (as Greg had firmly corrected) from his childhood. Seeing Hank gently carry around a plastic GI Joe action figure made him wish Sara was there to see their "baby."
It was almost midnight when he was finally dropped off in front of the offices of the Scientific Coalition of the Americas. As promised, the director had waited for him. The man wanted to personally escort him from the airport, but Gil reassured him that he really didn't need to try and recruit or impress him. "Dr. Primicias, I know I should play hard to get, but I want the job if you'll have me," he said. Their phone interview only lasted fifteen minutes and Primicias unsuccessfully kept his excitement in check at the prospect of signing Grissom.
A small Hispanic man rushed to him as soon as he opened the door. "Dr. Grissom, I presume! Was your flight uneventful? Here, let me help you with your bags," he said. His English was heavily accented and he almost ripped Gil's arm out the socket with his eagerness to lift the rucksack from his back.
"Please, call me Gil, and thank you," he said.
"I am Francisco and I must admit I am a bit of a romantic," Primicias replied with a wink. "While Sara does not gush and give many details of her personal life, it was obvious carries a sense of…loss. I knew from her interviews she lost no family members recently, and so your appearance is the missing piece of her puzzle."
"Well, Francisco, I must confess…I don't know how well I'll be received," he said.
Francisco laughed heartily. "Let us not ruin the fantasy with such trivial concerns. My grandmother was a faith healer and a mystic of a sort. I have good feelings about this, so perhaps some of her gifts passed to me."
Gil smiled slightly, "I'm not sure if I would call not knowing if she will take me back a trivial concern, but I do know nothing more can be done tonight. She still doesn't know I am coming?"
"No, I have respected your wishes," said Francisco. "She does know she is receiving a new partner tomorrow, but I have politely ignored her questions. And this was no easy task." He waved his hand for Gil to follow and led him into a comfortably furnished office. "Each day we conduct a brief video chat with each of our teams in the field – or the jungle in this case. You will be several kilometers from the nearest road or village. Every week, you will be delivered food and supplies. You will have your own computer and the battery supply will give you about three hours of power each day."
The two men chatted amiably about the project and the conditions. It was going to be very primitive, but Gil knew the lack of technology and modern conveniences could be more of a benefit, rather than a drawback. He stifled a yawn and Francisco looked at him with a mixture of consternation and shame.
"Your journey has been very long and here I sit talking away like an old woman! Please, allow me to show you to our dormitory and at first light we will put you on the supply truck for your next adventure," he said.
They passed through a couple of rooms and wove in and out of several stacks of boxes. Francisco opened a door to a room that couldn't be any bigger than Gil's office. "Wait," he thought, "my former office."
The room had two metal bunk beds and a couple of footlockers in it. A door at one end was open and Gil could see the commode and a sink.
"It is probably not what you are used to, but there is a shower with some water pressure," said Francisco. "In the morning I will bring you some breakfast. My wife makes some of the finest eggs you have ever tasted."
Gil nodded and smiled, "I appreciate that. I'm not sure how well my cooking skills will fare in the field."
"I believe the next few months will find you either thriving on the adjustments you must make or you will come to feel they are your greatest torment," said Francisco knowingly.
The two men shook hands and Francisco took his leave. Gil sat down cautiously on one of the lower bunks. He removed his shirt, socks and boots, but decided to keep his pants. He punched the pillow a couple of times before reaching for the thin blanket folded at the end of the bed. His dreams that night varied from the sublime, where Sara threw herself into his arms, to the nightmare in which she immediately rejected him.