A/N: ENJOY!

A Pleasing Finale

Chapter 9

Early morning, Las Vegas:

"This look good," Nick said as he unwrapped the sandwich handed to him by Greg Sanders. They were finally taking a break after hours of working in a burned out house where three bodies had been found. Sitting outside was the first time they had breathed fresh air in hours.

"You got a pickle, too."

Nick laughed, "Do you remember the time Grissom lit up a pickle?" He held up a long dill pickle and bit the end. "I knew then I was an investigator, not a real scientist!"

"That's an old trick—was it crime related?"

Nick shook his head. "I don't remember. I do remember thinking 'why would someone put an electrical wire in a pickle?' And knew I wasn't a real scientist—even today I think of myself as an investigator, no matter how much of that equipment I use." He laughed again, watching Greg eat his sandwich.

"You know, Catherine is going to retire."

Greg stopped eating, saying "She's said that for months now. Do you really think so?"

"Yeah, she showed me her letter. And she wants Ecklie to name me as supervisor."

"That's good." Greg grinned. "I can work for you."

Nick frowned. "I don't want that job, Greg. I like working crime scenes—I don't like paperwork, I don't like politics. I've never worked as a lab tech." He played with his sandwich. "I want to do what I'm doing now. I'm going to ask her to recommend you, not me."

Greg's face changed to a look of astonishment; his mouth dropped open. He almost dropped his sandwich. "You can't be serious, man. I'm no supervisor."

"You can be—you've worked in the field so you know what we do. You worked in the lab—everyone there looks up to you. You are smart—a scientist, an investigator." Nick shrugged and laughed. "And put a suit on you and you'd make a great politician!"

"Nick—I don't want this! I like what I do!"

"Would you rather have some stranger—or someone else on another shift to be our supervisor? I don't—you are smart, Greg. You can be my supervisor until I retire—I'd be happy about that." When Nick began eating his sandwich, Greg finished his.

An easy silence settled between the two men for several minutes. Finally, Greg said, "You really think she's retiring?"

"Yep. She's got a timeline. After you take vacation time to go to Costa Rica, she's leaving."

Greg shook his head in disbelief. "I can't believe she would really leave us. I can't believe you won't take the supervisor's position. I can't believe you want me to do Grissom's job!" His entire body shook with restless energy. "And what makes you think Ecklie will do what Catherine asks?"

Nick laughed. "Catherine knows where a lot of skeletons are buried—Ecklie's included. And," He laughed so hard he snorted before finishing his sentence, "I can see you with that fetal pig on your desk just like Grissom! You would be putting old blood in the refrigerator your first week!"

Greg chuckled. "No—not old blood—Sara had a fit about that, remember?"

Again, they ate in silence until Nick said, "You'll be a good supervisor, Greg. Better than anyone else. Maybe even Grissom." Both grinned.

Shaking his head, skeptical of Nick's plan, Greg bit into his pickle.

Costa Rica:

The nearest town, nearly fifteen miles from the research center, was much larger than Sara had imagined it to be. Two tall bell towers dominated the skyline—one new and one very old—and their dazzling white contrasted to the many bright colored buildings and houses they passed. Small houses gradually became larger buildings, a number of them new and multi-stored, yet everywhere trees grew and flowers bloomed in a profusion of color that made Sara's eye squint. Every home and business seemed to be decorated by blooming vines, pots of flowers, trees heavy with local fruit. Their destination was its center, the oldest section of town, where the daily open-air market was set up.

Their first stop was a modern drug store—unlike those in Las Vegas, this store sold medications and medical supplies—no food, no toiletries, no shampoo or diapers. The sole purchase was handled quickly and wrapped in plain white paper before the woman at the counter handed it to Sara.

"There is a nice free clinic here for pregnant women," Nora said as she handed Sara a pamphlet from a rack. "If you need it—here take this."

"We have insurance," Sara said. She opened the brochure to find photographs and servings of healthy foods for pregnant women.

Nora laughed, "Basic care is free—national health care for everyone! But, you can use your insurance for a specialist in San Jose and the hospital—entirely different world from what your average pregnant woman gets!" Nora tucked the package inside the truck. "We have an hour for a fast trip through the market before the kids are out of school."

Sara remembered other markets from her previous visit—massive open-air stalls and tables held every type of food sold in Costa Rica—tomatoes, beans, peppers, squash, cabbages, plantains, papayas, pineapples, bananas and melons. Today, she had to stop herself from buying too much with Nora promising a return trip in a few days.

After the quick shopping trip and a few minutes of waiting for the closing bell of school, they were driving back to the research center with four giggling, talkative children in the rear seat. All of them had met the airplane, knew Sara was a new arrival who had no children, and greeted her as a familiar adult—asking questions one minute and ignoring her as a new thought started a new conversation. She was able to identify Nora's two children; the oldest daughter attended high school in San Jose. The two other, a boy and a girl, belonged to researchers she had met earlier in the day. Their light, young voices filled the interior of the vehicle on the return trip, telling of events of their day. Nora pulled to a stop in front of Sara's house where Grissom stood waiting.

Nora touched her arm, "Let me know if you need anything—but we won't bother you or ask too many questions," she laughed. "But don't wait to tell us!"

Sara nodded. One of the boys helped her with the bags of food and laughed at Grissom's remark of "You found us a boy—we'll get a girl on the next trip!"

A while later, Grissom held up the white paper wrapped package. "Is this it? When do we know?"

"Not until morning, dear. Concentrated urine works best." Sara had peeled a papaya and was cutting it into bite size pieces. "Gil, I feel so—so guilty, I guess—something. After all this time, we get this awesome grant, everything we've wanted—and I may have a baby right in the middle of everything!" Her voice wavered slightly; she stabbed a piece of papaya and held it up. "High in folic acid—good for pregnant women." Her voice trembled again and she let the knife slide from her hand as tears formed in her eyes.

Immediately, Grissom's hand folded around hers; his arm circled her back and turned her to face him. "Sara, dear wife, this is not a disaster, this is not a bad thing—its success, a double header with Sosa and H-Rod playing McGwire!" He kissed her. "I wish I could make this sickness go away—and it will." He picked up a piece of papaya and held it before her mouth. "Smile for me—this is absolutely the greatest thing we've done."

"What if I'm not?" She took the fruit into her mouth as she attempted to smile.

He kissed her, tasting the sweetness on her lips. "Then we keep trying—for a year. Then we'll buy one of those kids riding in the truck!" He teased. He gave her another piece of fruit. "You need to eat—especially if you keep throwing up breakfast. There's ripe bananas and a blender—what about a smoothie?" His thumb wiped away tears.

She sniffed. "I don't know why I—I'm so teary eyed."

Grissom took her into his arms, held her for several minutes before walking her to one of the chairs on the porch. "Stay here," he instructed. "I'll be back with something good for you." Returning to the kitchen, he could not keep a smile from forming on his face; he knew why she was emotional. He grinned and did a little dancing shuffle as he cut up papaya, a banana, and a melon for a smoothie.

Before going to bed, Sara uploaded three photographs and sent them to Grissom's mother and Greg. One was a close image of a blue hummingbird flying in front of her face, an amazed grin on her face. The other two were of the house and research facility with a short message: "Pack light and come down!"

Sara was certain she slept only a few hours during the night and at first light, she got up. Two minutes later, Grissom was out of bed and following her into the bathroom.

"I can't pee if you watch," she threatened.

His gleeful giggle sounded like a kid's laugh as he sat on the side of the tub, took the box from her hand and opened it, handing the plastic stick to her. "You can if I make you laugh, now get on with this!" He turned the box over and began to read directions, in Spanish, stumbling over several words as he did.

In less than a minute, the stick was on the sink. Sara said, "I can't look," as her hands covered her face.

They remained quiet for another minute, both seated, facing each other; Sara kept her fingers over her eyes. The bathroom was so small, Grissom did not have to move to see the rapidly changing line of color.

"Is it supposed to change this fast?" He asked as he picked up the directions. "Look." His voice was quiet, serene; his hand touched Sara's knee as he held his breath.

Sara, still seated on the toilet, looked at her husband first and saw the beginning of a smile forming. She looked at the small window on the testing stick; her eyes grew large when she saw the results.

"Oh! That was fast."

The two sat facing each other, too stunned to move, not realizing the comical picture they presented—heads almost touching, his knee touching thigh, both with hands touching the sink as they looked at the test results—seemingly frozen in the warm air of the bathroom.

"Yeah."

Sara's finger ran along Grissom's thumb. "Do you think it could be wrong?"

Grissom grunted, "If it is, it was fast." His eyes met hers. His grin spread across his face. "I think it's probably safe to say we are having a baby, dear."

A/N: Now you know! And the rest of this story is even more fluff-warning to diabetics-get out your insuling! Thanks!