STRANDED

Part 4

Bed time comes early when you're stranded in the desert.

It was one of the lessons Greg had learned so far: Once the sun sets, there is little left for you to do -unless you have an alternative source of light. But if you don't even have enough batteries to keep your Maglite going, then the best you can do is get into your tent and find something to do in the dark. If you have a friend with you, then you can talk, tell each other stories, or you can sing Kumbaya.

But if you don't have much to say to the person you're stranded with, then you simply get under the covers and pretend you're asleep.

And that's exactly what Greg did.

Unaccustomed to going to bed so early in the evening, however, Greg had been awake all this time.

It didn't help that there was a full moon. The light wasn't bright enough to let him read; just enough to let him see every creature that crawled, slithered, rustled, and scrambled in the near vicinity.

Not daring to move an inch, Greg had followed those creatures with his eyes, ready to act in case any of them came in his direction. Not an easy task, since the moonlight lent an eerie glow to every surface, casting weird shadows and making him see movement where there was none.

Apparently, the moon produced its own sort of mirages. Whenever Greg saw one of these, his first impulse was to say something about it. But he stopped himself just in time. He didn't want to draw Grissom's attention to himself. He didn't want to talk -period.

But then, he had talked too much already.

He'd talked and talked, despite Grissom's little interest. Then he'd spent the rest of the afternoon making all sort of jokes about their sleeping arrangements. He'd done this, knowing full well that Grissom would panic at the idea of sleeping with a colleague -even if 'sleep' was all that they were going to do.

On hindsight, Greg had to admit he'd really gone overboard with these jokes. Maybe the fact that they were far away from the lab heartened him. The problem came later, when he sat back and waited for Grissom to come up with some clumsy explanation as to why they shouldn't sleep together.

It turned out that Grissom was the most practical of men. As soon as the temperature started to drop, he decided that huddling together under two blankets made more sense than using one blanket each. Grissom had even prepared their bed himself, removing rocks from the area where they would lie down.

Greg could hardly believe it. He had joked about it, but lying next to Grissom was no laughing matter. It was damn uncomfortable, and not only because of the hard soil underneath. They could hardly move, for starters. The blankets were tightly tucked underneath them, so every time one of them took a deep breath or made a sudden movement, the other felt it.

And while lying next to Grissom seemed like a fantasy come true for Greg, it was not. Because in his fantasies, they didn't lie down like this; in his fantasies they turned to each other and did things to each to each other and, more importantly, they talked.

Oh, yeah. In Greg's fantasies, Grissom did and said all the right things. In fact, he was the one who always broached the subject of sex, love, or whatever it was that Greg was craving at the time.

Fantasy Grissom knew about Greg's feelings and did something about them, while the real Grissom -

Greg smiled ruefully.

The real Grissom flushed when he heard Greg's jokes but pretended not to understand what they were all about.

The real Grissom fell asleep the minute his head touched the ground.

The real Grissom would never do or say the right thing.

It was damn frustrating.

Idly, Greg moved his head just enough to take a look at his boss. He discovered, to his surprise, that Grissom was awake and staring at the sky.

"Hey," Greg said.

"Mmmmh."

"Thought you were asleep."

"Mmmh."

Greg was silent for a moment. He stared at the same patch of sky that Grissom was looking at. After a moment, he spoke again.

"I'm not sleeping tonight." Greg said.

"Try."

"No, I mean. Look at those stars." Greg said. "How often do we get to lie down and just –just look at the sky?"

"I do it once a month," Grissom said smugly.

Greg glanced at his boss. Grissom's self-satisfied smirk bothered him.

"Really," Greg said, "And how often do you get to lie down and look at the sky in someone else's company?" he challenged.

Grissom opened his mouth but didn't say anything.

"Well?"

Grissom looked at Greg for the first time.

"I don't," he admitted.

Greg smiled to himself.

"So," he said after a moment, "What is it that you do? Do you drive to the desert and put up a tent? Do you meet some fellow Entomologist and go chasing after beetles -"

Grissom shook his head.

"I stay home," he said reluctantly. "I set up a telescope in the roof and -" he let the word trail off.

"Cool," Greg said sincerely. He liked the idea of setting a telescope in the roof of his building and studying the stars. He'd been looking for a telescope for some time now. "I bet you know the names of all those constellations," Greg said, tilting his head in the sky's direction.

Grissom smiled.

"I bet you know them, too," he said.

Greg had to admit that he did. He knew stuff, and it flattered him that Grissom acknowledged this fact.

Grissom looked away again, and Greg took the chance to study his face. It wasn't often that he could be this close to Grissom, while the man simply relaxed. For once, he didn't have to sneak the glances; this time he could ogle all he wanted.

After a moment, Greg patted his pockets until he found something. He tried to be inconspicuous about it but the rustling sounds he made attracted Grissom's attention.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm unwrapping a stick of gum," Greg replied. "If I'm not sleeping, at least I'll have something to do." He glanced at Grissom, "Wanna piece?"

Grissom hesitated. Then he remembered that he probably would not be getting much sleep.

"Ok."

Greg passed him a piece of gum under the blankets, and soon they were both chewing gum.

Inevitably, Greg broke the silence once again.

"So, Grissom," he said in a deceptively casual tone, "Have you ever kissed someone under a full moon?"

Grissom's chewing stopped. He didn't answer.

"I thought so," Greg said smugly. He looked at Grissom for a long time. "Would you like to?"

Grissom shook his head.

"I don't think so."

"Come on, how can you say that? Think of it. The stars, the moon… someone you like by your side…"

Grissom didn't comment.

"Well," Greg continued, "I'd do it. If I had someone I like by my side, that is."

Grissom glanced at Greg for a moment, then he looked away. They were in silence for a while.

Then Greg spoke again.

"Tell me this," he said, "If that someone didn't work for you, would you do it?"

Grissom shook his head almost imperceptibly.

"Greg, even if I wanted to do this…"

"Yes?"

"I haven't kissed anyone in years, so -"

Greg's eyebrows rose.

"That's not something a guy should proclaim, you know."

Grissom looked at Greg.

"I'm not proclaiming it," He said quietly, "I'm just being honest."

"Still," Greg muttered. "That's not the way to sell yourself." But after a moment, he patted Grissom's shoulder under the covers. "It's ok," he said magnanimously, "I'm sure it'll come back to you. Kissing's like riding a bicycle."

Grissom smiled faintly.

"I haven't ridden a bicycle in years, either."

"You haven't?" Greg asked, his eyebrows rising in an exaggerated surprise, "Then what the hell have you been doing all these years?"

But he was smiling as he said this.

Grissom didn't smile back.

"I've been dreaming." He said pointedly.

Greg's mischievous smile faded. There was something in Grissom's eyes that reminded him of that day, all those years ago, when they met.

Greg's heart beat faster.

"Well," he said, choosing his next words with care. "Dreaming's good," he said gently. "But, you know, sometimes you need a little reality in your life, too. Sometimes you have to get up and do things -" he tentatively laid a hand on Grissom's chest. "- if you know what I mean." he finished.

Grissom's lips parted.

"Ok," he said softly. "Find me a bicycle, then."

Greg chuckled.

Grissom was smiling faintly, too.

Greg's fingers touched the top button on Gil's shirt.

"What about…?" he said, the word trailing off.

Grissom's smile faded.

"I don't know." He said.

Greg nodded. He understood Grissom's reticence even if he didn't share it.

"Look," he said. "The way I see it… We're practically in the middle of nowhere, Grissom. I mean, anything can happen to us here. We could be struck by lightning, you know. A scorpion could crawl in, thinking this is just another cozy cave -"

"A snake could, too." Grissom added helpfully.

"Thanks for the reminder," Greg glared.

"You're welcome," Grissom said, a small, bemused smile tilting the corners of his mouth.

Greg did a double take. Grissom was smiling… That was a good sign.

"So," Greg said, "You agree that this could really be our last chance, uh? We're all alone here, we have minty-fresh breath… Plus, what happens in the desert, stays in the desert."

"That sounds good," Grissom said.

Greg took this as an invitation. He leant forward and gently touched Gil's lips with his own. He pulled back to gauge Grissom's reaction. There was a solemn expression on the older man's face.

And suddenly, Greg realized what a big deal this really was. Grissom spent years without kissing, let alone having sex with anyone. Suddenly, Greg felt that this was like –like being with a virgin, he supposed. A big deal.

Greg's hand gently cradled Grissom's face. He was about to kiss Grissom again, when a sudden roar surprised them both. They froze.

"What was that?"

"I think it's a car," Grissom's said.

Greg gaped. "You don't think..."

They hurriedly lifted a flat of the tent and looked outside. The car with the dead guy was standing there, untouched.

"I can't see anything." Greg muttered. In their silent surroundings, every noise was magnified. If there was a car coming up, it might not be as close as they thought.

"It could be Nick," Grissom said, pushing the blankets away.

"The idiot!" Greg blurted out. He glanced at Grissom, who seemed surprised by Greg's reaction. Greg shrugged. "He wasn't supposed to be here yet."

"Maybe it's the bank robbers," Grissom retorted.

"Shit!" Greg exclaimed, scrambling around in search of his gun. He pulled from under the rolled towel he'd used as a pillow.

"Wait!" Grissom warned.

By now, two vehicles could be seen approaching. And under the pale light of the moon, they ID'd the logo of the Santa Margarita Ranger Patrol.

"It's Nick," Greg said.

"The idiot," Grissom said under his breath.

TBC