A/N: Thanks to everyone for reading! Next chapter rating will change-just so you know what's coming! Now, read, review, and, by magic, a new chapter!
After All
Chapter 4
And after all that we've been through…It all comes down to me and you. I guess it's meant to be…forever you and me.
She knew! Grissom had not given a thought to the camera in the interview room, vaguely remembering it in a corner when he had talked to Heather. And now, his words had changed everything. She was here; she came.
For a few seconds, his mouth opened, then closed as he attempted to say something—anything—yet his brain was unable to bring up any rational words or clever quip.
Finally, he stuttered, "I—I should have—you should have heard it from me." His voice was quieter than a whisper, stunned and surprised by her words. "I don't know why I find it so difficult…"
Sara quieted him with a kiss. Gently, her fingers caressed his face and in her eyes, he knew understanding.
Somehow, they untangled enough for Grissom to show her around the boat. With a bit of pride, he showed her the small galley with its basic kitchen equipment and explained the slight aroma of vinegar. The table was covered with rolls of maps, several electronic devices, and a laptop. Under the forward windows, a secure cabinet contained more pieces of equipment.
"We'll get into all that later," he explained. He could not stop smiling as he indicated a ladder to the sleeping area.
"I—I'm the only one on the boat," Grissom explained, waving his hand at papers and books across the bed and a sleeping bag rolled to one side. "I sort of take all the space." Quickly, he added, "but we can make room—I can clear away most of this." He paused for a minute before saying, "We can—we can take care of this later—I—I never thought you'd come."
As she looked around the area, almost devoid of those things he'd once treasured, she asked, "You have another place to live, right?"
He took her hand as she stepped away from the ladder. There was not much floor space so he pulled her against his chest.
"I—I live in my mother's place—Venice Beach. She never sold it so—so I moved in."
Sara nodded, asking, "The address I sent your boxes?"
He could see the pain, briefly, in her eyes before she leaned her head against his shoulder.
Whispering, he said, "I'm so sorry—all this time—I—I was afraid—I was a fool."
"No, no." Sara's fingers covered his lips. "We were both fools. I thought you'd moved on—it was so difficult to talk—to say what I wanted to say when I thought you wanted to—to be alone."
Her words caused him to tighten his arms around her. He said, "Let me get your bag and we'll walk up to the marina store for supplies. We—we can stay here another night—or—or what do you want to do?"
"What's your plan? You were getting ready to leave—can we—can we do that?"
There was a moment of awkwardness—his mind failed again in its ability to form a coherent sentence; he nodded, mumbled something that sounded like an agreement as he climbed the ladder to the galley and brought her suitcase back with him. Sara was sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Are you okay?"
She smiled. "It's been a while since I've been on a boat."
Motioning toward the ladder, he said, "Let's get some food—suddenly, I'm starving." He placed her case on the bed—on top of scattered books.
The marina had a small café where they ordered two of the vegetarian sandwiches on the menu.
As they ate, he told her about the boat, buying it at auction from a Portland research organization. The group he worked with had provided most of the electronics needed to follow other boats along the coast. Most of the time, he worked around Los Angeles but had followed a trail of dying or dead sharks with missing fins to San Diego.
"That's where I got caught—first time. Most of the time we—the group has thirty or forty people using all kinds of boats—go in as individuals, find what has been poached and call it in to the authorities. We disappear as soon as they show up." He chuckled. "This time—I think I set off an alarm and got caught."
He had relaxed as he talked and Sara ate—at some point realizing how much he had missed her companionship. He said, "Did you really come to stay? I—I—I mean stay with me? What about your job?"
Wiping a napkin across her mouth, she took a slow sip from her drink. "I came to find you—and to stay." She tipped her head in the direction of his plate. "I'll eat those chips if you don't."
He picked up several and placed them on her plate. "When did you last eat?"
Shrugging, picking up a chip and turning it slowly between her fingers, she continued, "After I watched the video, I realized if—if I ever wanted you to know how I felt, I needed to see you—not just see you but to say my feelings for you have not changed—and—and we need—we should to be together."
Grissom's sandwich had stopped mid-way between his plate and his mouth. She motioned for him to eat.
She said, "I had a brief conversation with Ecklie suggesting he offer the job to Catherine—she's much more politic than I could ever be—and I'm using leave for four months until my official resignation kicks in."
Grissom's sandwich was in the same place.
Laughing, Sara said, "If you don't eat that sandwich, I'm going to!"
"What about your house?"
"Our house—your name is still on the deed. I went home long enough to pack my bag, watered the plants, and called Greg on my way to the airport. He laughed like a hyena—in a nice way—agreed to check on things until he heard from me."
He took a bite and chewed on his sandwich for a minute. "I apologize for—for everything. It was my selfish ways—my own envy—suspicions with no basis." His hand splayed toward Sara. "You never asked for anything—and—like a fool—without any evidence, I—I thought you had tired of me."
Sara played with the same potato chip as he talked, responded with a tentative smile before saying, "It's safe to say we both had doubts—I thought you no longer wanted me around—certainly not as your wife." She looked away; he knew she was hiding painful memories.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered, reaching across the table for her hand. "I'll live the rest of my life making up for what we missed."
Turning her hand so she could grasp his, she said, "Don't talk about what we've missed." A true smile of joy transformed her face. "We've got so much to do! You've got to teach me about all that equipment—and what you do on Ishmael—by the way, I like the name." Smiling, she wadded her napkin into a ball and tossed it toward his plate where half of his tomato, cheese, and avocado sandwich lay. "I am going to finish your sandwich."
A/N: Thank you! Next chapter soon!
