A/N: Thanks for reading. The second chapter of a short story!
A Real Connection
Chapter 2
Glancing at his watch, Gil Grissom realized he had been working much longer than he thought. His head had been buried in the project spread out on his work table—hundreds of moths collected in the past month. He and a dozen others had spent hours searching for and following a flight path as the moths had traveled hundreds of miles. Pushing back from his table, he sighed, stretched his arms, and stood, bones creaking as he got off the stool.
"I need to move more," he murmured as he stretched again with arms over his head and bent at the waist to bring his hands near his toes. Doing a few more stretches, he decided it was time to close things down for the night.
He walked around the large room, shutting down some of the equipment and setting timers on some. The room was spacious; half of it was set up with lab tables and he used the other half for work space that was dedicated to his research project. As he walked around, he looked out of windows to an enclosed courtyard below the second floor. He could see several people, a few he recognized, sitting at a couple of tables and decided he would leave in a different direction to avoid getting trapped in a never-ending discussion.
Locking the door, he walked most of the way around the square building and then took a set of wide steps to the first floor. He heard voices—probably the cleaning crew—off to his left, so he turned right and headed out of the building by the nearest door. This route meant he would walk around half of the building before getting to the parking lot, but at least he escaped—and right now he was thinking he wanted to eat more than he wanted to hear about the latest administration 'crisis'.
The parking lot was half filled with cars; his was in the first row because he had arrived early in the morning which meant he had spent over eighteen hours in the building. It was not his usual routine; he had decided months ago that work would not overtake his life.
The night was warm so Grissom turned up the air in his vehicle knowing this simple act was a miracle of modern technology. In light traffic, he drove to his favorite café and lingered over his dinner, checking his phone for messages and finding none, which made it easy to eat slowly and observe those around him.
A young couple sat at a small table across from his booth; both texting, rarely looking at each other. He wondered if they were on a date. Several tables were taken up by singles—one or two were on their way to work while others were doing what he was doing—paying someone else do the cooking.
He finished his meal, left money on the table, and headed out. A few minutes later, he slowed, turned into a quiet neighborhood and made several turns before arriving at his destination.
As he turned into the driveway, he grunted, surprised at the car parked in the carport, which put him in a hurry for the first time in hours.
Quietly, opening the front door, he took off his shoes and walked through the living room and hallway to the bedroom. Seeing the covered figure in bed, he smiled, retraced his steps to the front door, locked it, went back to the bedroom, and being as quiet as possible, took clean clothes from a drawer, and headed down the hall again.
As he turned on the shower, he knew the purchase of this house, with its spaciousness and three bath rooms, had been a good decision. He smiled at the memory that came with that thought. Sara had fallen in love with the neighborhood and together they had spent months looking for the right house to make their home. As he stepped into the shower, his thoughts returned to a time when their marriage had almost fallen into that crevice of no return.
Warm water cascaded over his body as he remembered his lackadaisical and inconsiderate treatment of his wife and his marriage. He let other things become more important; his own frustrations had overwhelmed his feelings for his wife sending him into a self-imposed isolation. Yet, she never gave up on him and months after he had told her to file for divorce, which she did not do, and find another who could give her what she desired, she had called him with a simple message.
"When you are ready, come home, Gil. You are the one I want above all else. We'll work things out."
As he turned his face to the shower stream, he grinned. Sara had made the house into their home. He had returned a week after her call. She had taken time off from work and they had talked for hours, walked miles, climbed the hills at Red Rocks, and canoed the Colorado River.
It had been the most life affirming time of his life.
He had discovered that his wife, who he loved very much, wanted to know where he was and what he was doing on a regular basis. She had no problem with him being away from home for weeks at a time, but she wanted to hear that he was okay. Together, they decided not to dwell on the possible negative consequences of having a long distance marriage. She liked her job and having a home and because she loved him, what he was doing wasn't a burden on her which lifted a nearly constant worry off him—and resulted in a change.
Six months later, he had a new research position at the local university and he was home most of the time.
He stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel. For the simple reason that he and Sara slept at different times, they frequently used this bathroom instead of the one located adjacent to the master bedroom so he had a toothbrush and toiletries stowed in a drawer. Quickly, he shaved, dressed for bed, and headed back to the bedroom.
Making a quick detour, he went through the house turning off several lamps that Sara always left on when she was alone in the house. He knew the reason. As he reached for a lamp switch, his eyes fell on a photograph.
His fingers came back to the picture and he picked it up. In the soft light given by the lamp, he smiled and traced his fingers across the two smiling faces. He had carried a copy of the same photo with him in his travels around the world. A smile remained on his face as he returned it to its place, turned off the light, and, in darkness, made his way to the bedroom.
Sara was in the same place in bed; he knew she had planned to attend the conference and stay at the hotel, but after he had heard about the shootings, he should not have been surprised to find her at home. Carefully lifting covers, he crawled into bed.
Almost immediately, she turned. In a sleepy, husky voice, she said, "I'm glad you're home." Her arms reached out.
"I didn't want to wake you," Grissom said.
He heard the smile in her voice as she said, "I heard you come in."
Another second passed before her lips touched his.
A/N: Of course, they are together! Did you expect otherwise? One more chapter-thanks for reading. We appreciate hearing from you!