Disclaimer: I don't own.
A/N: Once again, a little short, but it's another transitionary chapter. Thanks for all the reviews and the suggestions! Hope you enjoy. :)
Chapter Ninety Five:
It was an absolute relief to fly back to Vegas the next day. Ayla didn't sleep through this flight, but Gil had had the foresight to bring a travel size box of cheerios from the breakfast offered at our hotel, and she spent most of her time chasing them around her tray table, still not having the fine motor capabilities to grasp them between thumb and forefinger. We spent another night in Vegas and though Gil seemed content to spend the night at home, watching television or catching a movie on HBO, I reminded him that he had abruptly quit his job before the funeral… and that if I knew Catherine Willows, she would want an explanation.
Which was how we ended up in a restaurant, in a casino on the strip, with a table full of people I didn't know… and Catherine.
We had waited just outside the restaurant, surrounded by the constant pinging of slot machines, Ayla on my hip… and she and Lindsey had been the first to arrive. Their arrival had been announced by a loud "Uncle Giiiiil!" and a blonde streak colliding with his legs before he swooped her up in the air, hugging and tickling the little girl until she shrieked. Catherine appeared a moment later, huffing and blowing her exasperated breath upwards, moving the bangs away from her face. "Sorry Gil, she saw you and took off…" She turned to me, a look of discomfort slipping across her features. "Sara, I…"
"Don't worry about it." I said, quick to dismiss her apology. "If I'd done what you thought I did… you would have had every right to—"
"Grissom, man, the whole lab is talking about how you gave Ecklie the smack down!" We all turn to see a rather eccentric young man hurry over, light brown hair with obviously-dyed blonde spikes looking like they could poke someone's eye out, the sides of his unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt trailing on either side of his t-shirt clad body. I instantly liked him, and watched Gil grimace in slight displeasure.
"There was no smacking of anyone, Greg." He said, rather more sternly than the situation warranted, I thought, and then sighed and offered the young man a smile. "Greg Sanders, DNA tech extraordinaire, meet Sara Sidle, my fiancée."
I smiled and reached out to shake his hand, but he pulled me into a bear hug instead. "Nice to meet you. Everyone's been talking about who Grissom walked out with, after… you know. They didn't say she was a MILF though."
I blushed, turning to Gil for help, but he looked utterly bewildered as to what his young DNA genius had just said to me. Still, taking in Catherine's smirk and my shocked expression, he was able to figure out enough to say, "Greg…" warningly with a threatening eyebrow raise. The young man just grinned and turned to Ayla.
"Hi cutie pie. What's your name?"
Ayla stretched out, attempting to touch his crazy hair, and we all laughed while I told her name and another joined our group. "Hey guys." A tall man who had a sort of inherent grace and gentleness beneath a young, tough exterior entered, and I immediately liked him as well. He shook Grissom's hand, nodded to Catherine, and then turned to me. "Sara? Nice to meet you. Catherine didn't tell me how pretty you'd be… must have been jealous." He winked at me as we shook hands and we both smirked at Catherine's indignant hair toss.
Gil stepped in, though I didn't need the introduction—Warrick Brown, Gil's protégée. "Warrick, Sara…" I grinned, about to tell him that that much had been clear, when another approached—
"Move along fellas, nothing to see here…" A short, gruff man with a dramatic receding hair line approached, his tough exterior hinting at a sweet, soft center. He leveled me with a stern gaze. "So you're the one who's been distracting my star CSI for years, huh?" We leaned forward, hugging Ayla and I with one arm, gently.
"Jim Brass." I said, knowingly. "I'm Sara Sidle." He grinned.
"I didn't know the name—until today, that is—but I've known about you for… probably longer than Catherine. 1998 Forensic Anthropology Conference, San Francisco. He's been a different man ever since."
I blushed and Gil looked a little embarrassed at the man's words as well as he shook Jim's hand and they shared a few quite words about Jim's transfer to homicide and Gil's impromptu retirement. Catherine cleared her throat. "Nicky said he might be a little late, so if we wanted to go in and sit…"
"No! I'm here! I made it!" The young man in a cowboy hat said, hurrying into the group. He grinned at me. "Howdy ma'am." He took my hand and kissed it, and I blinked in surprise. Gil moved over, chuckling at my bemusement.
"Sara Sidle, meet Nick Stokes, southern gentleman and ladies man."
We both grinned at each other and then, en masse, the group moved to the table the hostess had been waiting to seat us at since Gil and I arrived. I realized that there was not a single person in the group whom I disliked… No, not even disliked. There was not one whom I did not feel an immediate connection to. …Maybe we should stay in Vegas. We could both try to get jobs at UNLV… Gil said he had money to tide us over for a while.
The meal was delicious, the company amazing, and by the time everyone had to leave to get to the lab for their shift—they made sure to send a few barbs Gil's way about being a quitter—I felt like Gil had this lab family I'd never known about. I mean, sure he'd mentioned all of them… but it had never occurred to me how much I might love them myself. How close knit they seemed. They all hugged me before they left, and then Gil and I were walking out of the restaurant, Ayla on his hip, hand in hand. "To Boston?" I asked, less as a question and more as a way to bring up our immediate plans, together. He smiled.
"To Boston."
It was another long day of flying, and Ayla had apparently reached her limit. She was fussy and whiny and often inconsolable, and I found myself suddenly sympathizing with people who hated babies on planes. I gave in, half way through the first plane ride, and had Gil drag me out a blanket so I could nurse. It worked, for at least twenty minutes, and then she began again. The second plane ride was worse… she didn't want to nurse and said "No!" to me when I tried to coax her to latch onto my breast, just to calm and quiet her down. I blinked in surprise, and Gil gently pulled her from me, taking over trying to keep her happy.
She fell asleep just before the captain said we were landing, and I groaned, certain she would wake up in all the hustle and bustle and be a monster for the rest of the day. Gil kissed my temple and gave me a sympathetic smile. When we landed, we let everyone leave ahead of us and he had me carry her so he could juggle all the luggage and keep her sleeping.
The next few weeks were really a blur. We packed up everything, giving most of Jace's clothing to goodwill, though I saved his favorite sweatshirt, thinking that Ayla could sleep with it until it got worn out… it might help her. We sold furniture we didn't need or have room for, we cleaned the house, we put it on the market, paid off all Jace and I's bills and debts, and sent everything else to a storage facility in Vegas.
And then, instead of heading back to Vegas and Gil's truly creepy townhouse, he surprised me with tickets to Paris for the three of us… a wedding and honeymoon, combined, if I still wanted it, he said.
Of course I still wanted it.
Enough time had passed, apparently, that Ayla was not so opposed to plane trips, and she thankfully was back to her usual sweet self on the long, long ride. We landed in Paris, and everywhere we passed between the airport and the hotel, I asked if that was where he'd planned for us to get married. He would grin and shake his head, and my eyes would flash out the window again at the City of Lights, trying to place it. I knew, of course, that he had told me it wasn't in the actual city… but I was so excited and nervous and impatient…
I didn't have a dress, or anything old, new, borrowed, or blue… but if he had asked me to marry him in the lobby of our hotel, that would have been enough.
He had had the foresight to bring the pack and play with us this time, so we wouldn't have to share a bed with Ayla… I felt heat coursing down my spine at the thought of having a bed entirely to ourselves, without the guilt of knowing Ayla was closed in the bathroom I had once suspected would be covered in insects large enough to eat her. He took me out to eat at a restaurant our front desk clerk had suggested, and I was overwhelmed with the food… I had never eaten food so amazing. And when we came back to the hotel, me just a little tipsy off the delicious wine and on my absolute disbelief that we were really here, together, I suggested he put Ayla down out in the living room… and slipped into our bedroom to change into something I had purchased with the whole honeymoon-wedding-in-France concept in mind…
I mean, it wasn't as if we hadn't made love since Jace died. Of course we had. Several times in the weeks following his funeral, while tying up loose ends in Boston. …But we were busy and stressed and juggling a lot and though we were overwhelmingly happy to be together… all of that had kind of gotten in the way. It had been passionate and intimate… but not the mind-blowing kind of sex I had always, always associated with him, whether I was in denial of our relationship, finally giving in, or nine months pregnant. But tonight… tonight was just for us, after weeks of being caught up in everything for everyone else.
The last thing on earth I expected was for him to laugh at me when he slipped into the bedroom and caught sight of me.