Chapter 2

The heat from the late-day sun was partially relieved by the thatched roof, but no breeze cooled through the opened cabin windows.

While others in the compound could be heard shutting down their research areas and beginning to move towards the kitchen area, one lone scientist sat perched at the end of his folding chair that had been placed in front of his computer monitor.

Having the program running, Gil Grissom sat a bit anxiously for a Chat Request box to appear on the screen.

Checking his watch as he had for the last twenty minutes, he rubbed his hand tiredly over his eyes and slowly down his thickening beard.

She isn't coming.

That thought made him inhale deeply and wonder for the second time in as many weeks if something was seriously wrong between him and Sara.

It had been earlier last week that they had shared their near-nightly conversation, missed only when Sara was on a case hot enough to keep her away from her computer. Even then, there would an email explaining her absence.

He wondered if she understood how important this link was for him.

He missed her.

Longed for her during these long, lazy tropical nights.

More than once, especially in these last two weeks, Gil had begun to question his decision to pursue this work while their grant applications were being processed.

Their online meeting a fortnight ago was really the last night Gil could honestly say he had spoken with Sara that she looked happy and so glad to see and talk with him.

The next two days found Sara on court appearances and the couple managing only quick SKYPE chats.

Then came her "regrets" email that that she and Ray had been given an unusual case that was perplexing in its outcome and its suspected cause.

After that email-only night however, their conversations were almost stilted – as if Sara was going through the motions.

Gil had tried to get her to open up and talk to him about what was bothering her about the case, and at first he took her reluctance to talk about it as simply her reverting back to past habits.

But Sara had never distanced herself from him at this length since their marriage.

And Gil knew her well enough to realize she was hiding something from him.

There was a guardedness to her inquiries, a firm denial to provide him with many details of what she had been doing or with whom she had been doing it.

But it was her difficulty in looking directly at him that caused him the most heartburn.

Originally, using SKYPE as their method of communication had been Sara's idea. He smiled softly as her words rang out in his memory:

…I want to be able to lose myself in those baby blues of yours, if only for a little while...

His musings were so troubling that Gil almost failed to see the Chat Request box light up the corner of his screen.

Upon his gaze falling on the icon, his posture immediately became erect, and his hands almost pounced onto the screen to hit the Accept tab.

Having been so shaken out of his reverie, he failed to notice the screen name of the person making the request.

"Hello, Grissom."

For a second, Gil's mind was not making sense of the image on the screen.

Expecting to see the brunette who occupied most every waking thought, for a moment his mind struggled to recognize the figure presented before him.

"Heather."

As her eyes blinked a bit slower than usual, her smile was warm as she leaned forward and spoke.

"Bet you are surprised to see me online again."

Gil looked at this woman, who had given him sanctuary when he had felt abandoned by Sara, with a soft smile before answering, "You aren't who I was waiting for."

Ignoring the unintended double entendre of his reply, Heather continued with a slight laugh, "Hmm. Then I think I'll have to research this phenomenon of men being stood up online."

He flinched a bit then pulled on his poker face swiftly, but not quick enough to hide from Heather's practiced gaze.

"How have you been, Gil? Missing home yet?"

Before he replied, she added, "Now that Allison is spending more time with her grandfather I find myself with too much time on my hands. So I've been spending...no, making time…to …reconnect…with the few important friends of my past."

At this, Gil smiled and said, "Heather – you make it sound as if see yourself as old and have been away from civilization for awhile."

In a coquettish turn of her head, she replied, "No, Gil…that sounds much more like you."

Despite his distracted concern with Sara, he found himself chuckling out loud.

These few minutes talking with someone from home who really knew him and who showed enjoyment in his company was like a balm, soothing away the pain of his loneliness.

Smiling, Gil leaned back comfortably in his chair and said, "Heather…you do know how to make me laugh."

Seemingly pleased that she had elicited such a response from him, Heather as always remained in control of the "who" and "what" that constituted any conversation with Grissom.

She decided now was a good time to drop a little bombshell carefully into their conversation.

"I saw Sara recently."

Seeing Gil's expression morph into concern caused Heather a great deal of satisfaction in having his total attention now riveted on her.

"How? Where? Is she alright?" he rushed.

Shaking her head slowly, Heather's eye contact remained unbroken as if she had forgotten to blink.

"Well, I can see Sara still can make your pulse rise."

As Gil opened his mouth to protest the obvious slur towards his adored wife, Heather continued, "Actually, it was a …professional…visit."

Giving him just enough time to recall that she was now a certified Sex Therapist, Heather paused dramatically as she saw Gil drawing and redrawing conclusions in his head based on this new information.

Again cutting him off before he spoke, she added, "She and Dr. Langston were investigating a murder of one of my former clients."

Knitting his brow, the scientist was obviously in need of more facts and asked, "The Dominion?"

Raising her own eyebrows in reply, almost to intimate he had wounded her by his remark, she replied, "No. A current client."

Heather took Gil's relief as being caused by her continuing to move forward with her life and not reverting to her former method of doing business.

However, she may have been less pleased to know that his relief stemmed from Sara not being involved in a case that had anything to do with Heather's former line of work.

It would have stirred up too many bad memories about that place…about the time I'd spent there…about all that happened with Heather…

His distraction caused him to miss the beginning of her next topic.

"…contact with anyone back home?"

Trying to clear his head, Grissom answered what he gauged was the initial question.

"No…ahh…no I haven't."

Heather disguised her pleasure at the revelation. After all, she assumed they kept nothing from each other.

So when she had asked, "And have you mentioned to Sara that you had received a contact with anyone back home?" meaning her last unexpected SKYPE contact, she relaxed in the mistaken knowledge of his unintended reply.

After all, she still recalled her question to him so long ago: "Am I your secret?"

Not then, but …perhaps now…

Heather smiled as she thought about how things were falling into place…

Three weeks ago, as Gil was finishing reading a disappointing email from Sara that she would be in night court and would miss their session, his face lit up at the Chat Request box suddenly signaling a contact.

Again, overjoyed that somehow she had gotten free time, he accepted the invitation and had been shocked to find Heather's lovely smile gracing his screen.

She reveled in his shocked disposition and admitted to his stunned silence that she "had a friend who had a friend" who had set up her computer. Apparently this man was some type of genius for whom nothing was out of his realm of software expertise.

Heather explained he used his" resources" and had gotten some SKYPE addresses so that she was able to contact a few important friends – and he had been the first person she could think of to attempt to contact.

Their conversation didn't last long, but as usual Heather could make Gil so comfortable that he began to tell her about the Moche grave dig and his extended stay at the government's request.

But he had categorically refused any attempts to discuss the possible effect of his prolonged absence on his relationship with Sara.

Upon her inevitable contact with Sara, Heather had used the little information she had managed to pry out of Grissom and had been pleased with the glimpse of the hurt she had seen in those brown depths before the CSI retreated to work-mode and resisted thinking about personal matters.

Yet, Heather was sure she had opened the door to private speculation on Sara's part which would be inevitable in the hours of tossing and turning in her lonely marriage bed.

Returning to the present conversation, Heather inhaled deeply and spoke, "Well, Gil, I must be off. Allison will soon be here and I have a party dress I need to finish hemming for her."

Gil chuckled that he had never thought of her as a domesticated woman.

Heather pursed her lips a bit seductively and said, "Well, I would prefer…domesticated goddess."

At this, Grissom laughed aloud although he did not realize Heather was being only partially facetious.

"It was good talking with you, Gil. Perhaps next time, it will be YOU requesting a chat?"

"Take good care of yourself, Heather, and of Allison. It was nice to hear from you."

"Bye, Gil."

And with that, he ended the session and checked his email inbox once more.

The smile fell from his face as the screen barked, "You have no mail."

The rush of connection from Heather's chat was gone. A lonely man's finger shut down his computer.