Title: Journey of the Lonely Whale: Evolution (Month 12)
Author: Lisa (ljkwriting4life)
Rating: M. This story contains strong adult themes including references to violence, sexual references, and coarse language.
Pairing: Gil/Sara
Summary: One year since re-marrying, Gil and Sara return to San Diego to fulfil work commitments. While Sara becomes involved in a case that stirs memories of the past, she is also pushed by those around her to consider her future and her place in the world.
Notes: The JOTLW series aims to fill a gap between Immortality and CSI: Vegas. It does foreshadow CSI: Vegas and refers often to storylines established in the original CSI.
THREE
Sara got out of the cab that evening and watched it drive off as she put her phone to her ear and listened to it ringing.
"Why hello there," Gil said after half a dozen rings.
"Honey, I'm home," she teased gently into the phone, breaking into a grin as she stared at the modern building in front of her. There were six residential floors so it was by no means a skyscraper, and the exterior color palette was dark grey and white. It was clean, sleek and cool, and Sara looked up toward the fourth floor as the sun set over the water in the distance behind her.
They were further from the water than Gil had wanted to be, but everything in their price range in that area had been so old and wasn't to their taste, and even if it was only for a month, these longer stays on land were important and they wanted to be comfortable.
Sara had known this apartment was 'the one' the second she walked into the lobby, because the ground floor common area with its deep, warmer wood tones even had its own library and lounge area that she had immediately pictured Gil exploring. She thought about what Nick had also said that morning, about imagining them with their own library, and her smile widened.
"I'm just outside," she added.
"I'll buzz you up, let's see if this works," Gil said, laughing as he hung up the phone. The glass doors soon opened, and Sara was able to walk to the lift. She smiled at an older woman who was on her way out, and when she got into the lift she pressed the button to take her to the fourth floor. It worked. She bit her bottom lip and ambled down the hallway to their apartment. Gil had opened the door and left it ajar, and she entered cautiously, with her mind still partly on her newest case.
Nothing to worry about this time, though, because Gil was just a metre away in the kitchen to the right of the door. He was at the stove and facing her as she entered, and if a random burglar had turned up instead of Sara he could have picked up whatever smelt so good and thrown it in self-defence. Sara's stomach rumbled and flip-flopped at the sight of his smile and bright blue-grey eyes.
"Come in, come in," he assured her quickly. "Welcome home."
"You're making dinner," Sara observed happily. She pulled her bag off her body and walked past the kitchen to the dining and living area. She dumped her bag on one of the extra dining chairs they wouldn't need to use and turned back to him. "Can I do anything to help?"
"No, only another ten minutes or so. Go and take a look around, freshen up. Wine?"
"A little, yes," she confirmed with a grin. They never had wine on the boat, this was special.
The bedroom was to the left of the living area, and Sara walked in to change. The large bed was dressed in a royal blue and white quilt with silver thread, and white sheets. Sara remembered white sheets from the inspection but she laughed when she saw that Gil had propped up an empty plastic packet against the pillows. New sheets. He had somehow managed to purchase new sheets that day and had put them on the bed, just so Sara didn't have to sleep in someone else's sheets.
He was going to get a big reward for that, she decided, as tears unexpectedly stung her eyes.
She walked through a wardrobe and into the bathroom, which also connected to the hallway just opposite the kitchen, but that door was already closed so she had privacy. She splashed her face and took a few deep breaths. Gil had unpacked their usual towels and they were hanging on the towel racks. She enjoyed the familiarity of the cotton and the scent of the environmentally friendly washing powder they always used on the boat as she dried her face. She stripped her work clothes and shoes off on the way back to the wardrobe. She soon found her clothes tucked into the built-in shelving, and a few pieces on hangers. Gil had just guessed what she might want done with them all, what to hang, what to fold, but she could fix that later. She pulled on shorts and a loose linen top.
"Okay, now I'm home," she announced when she returned to the open-plan living space. The apartment was compact, but at least it was functional, and they had a separate bedroom and a decent couch and dining area, and a small patio looking down towards the harbour in the distance. The sun had dropped quickly onto the horizon, and Sara turned on the lamp by the couch.
"We can turn the overheads on," Gil mentioned casually. The kitchen was well lit as he cooked, but Sara shook her head, because this dim light would be enough for them to have a nice, relaxing meal at the table together. It had been a long time since Sara had worked a full day indoors under bright artificial lighting, and she wanted a break from it. She liked the warmth of the lamps. Nevertheless, she made her way back into the brighter kitchen. Gil was leaning against the counter's peninsula that contained the sink and dishwasher and which separated the kitchen from the rest of the floor plan. He had poured two glasses of white wine and was watching her with a gentle smile.
Sara joined him on that side of the kitchen and leant against the counter by the dishwasher. She picked up her glass of wine and sipped it with a content sigh.
"How was your day?" Gil asked. He looked her in the eyes and Sara looked back seriously.
"Weird," she said, after taking a long moment to think about her answer.
Gil raised a curious eyebrow and waited. He broke eye contact to check on the rice and the vegetable stir fry that were simmering in the provided pots and pans. Sara smiled as she watched him work and her stomach gurgled again. His mom had taught him well, bless her soul, Gil was a good cook and his eyes had lit up with anticipation when he first spotted the brand new, top-of-the-range gas stove within five seconds of stepping into the apartment. If Sara had known this was the place for them the moment she saw the library, Gil knew it the moment he saw the kitchen. It was a small kitchen but it was far larger than anything they'd had all to themselves for a very long time.
"Smells delicious," she told him as he declared dinner was ready and turned off the burners. Sara got out of the way so he could drain the rice and serve the food into bowls. It looked like there would be plenty left over for the next evening's meal, perhaps even enough for her to take some to the lab for lunch. He had thrown in half a dozen different vegetables and some cashews, which she hadn't eaten in months. Sara grinned when she realised she couldn't be much more spoilt than this. New sheets, fresh food. Wow. "I'm really impressed, darling," she said.
Gil shot her a bemused look that said he was only making dinner and the bar she set for him was too low if she was that impressed. Sara just pressed her lips together and shrugged innocently.
"Why was work weird?" he finally asked, as Sara carried their wine glasses to the table and Gil carried the bowls and cutlery.
"It was surreal," she admitted. "I talked to Nick, toured the lab, met the team, got into some of their open cases, then Nick took me to target practice so I'll be authorised to carry tomorrow and I can get out into the field. It's much smaller than the Vegas lab, no dedicated shift crews beyond the supervisors, the rest all work on a rotational roster, and some of the equipment isn't as advanced as what we had in Vegas. I told Nick we could help him on some funding applications, how to word them, and he jumped at that. I'm sure they could bring in some extra cash for upgrades."
"Sure," Gil said as they sat at the table opposite one another and began to eat dinner.
Sara watched him quietly while they ate. He must have felt her eyes on him because he glanced at her and offered a shy smile, but he didn't stare back, instead he quickly returned his attention to his meal.
"It was weird because you weren't there," Sara finally said.
Gil swallowed the food in his mouth and he did stare at her then, with raised eyebrows. Sara wasn't sure what else she could say about that. She felt her cheeks flush and offered him a shrug.
"Honey," he began. "Today I realised we hadn't spent this long apart since you took a day to do the Tongariro Crossing in New Zealand. I um, I kept wanting to reach for you or call out to tell you something. It was hard not to stare at the clock and watch time tick by. You're right, it was weird."
"Yeah," Sara whispered. She took a shaky breath. "We've been on the boat too long, right?"
"I think we're used to always being in one another's presence, even when we're doing something solitary. If we wanted a day to ourselves we couldn't go very far. I don't think we've been on the boat too long at all; I think we both realise this is the start of more shared time on land and that means more time apart. It's not necessarily a bad thing. It's like the noise, it's an adjustment."
"The lab was nice and quiet most of the day," Sara said with an amused smile. "Except for target practice. After a few loose shots I really showed that cut-out who was boss. Nick was impressed I can still out-shoot him after a year away. I told him we'd make him dinner this Friday."
Gil laughed and nodded.
Sara watched him seriously as she sat back in her chair.
Gil, as he so often did, just watched her patiently and waited for her to speak.
"Do you remember when I moved to the swing shift?" she finally asked. Gil nodded. After their relationship had become public in Vegas, after Sara had survived Natalie's attempt to kill her in the desert, and as soon as her broken arm had healed, Sara had moved to the afternoon cover shift, not quite day, not quite night. Gil had stayed supervising the night shift as he always had. He had volunteered to be the one to move but at the end of the day it wouldn't have mattered which one of them had done it. The point was, they hadn't been allowed to work together anymore. Sara still felt the sacrifice of that decision. "I really struggled with that," she admitted, as she twirled her fork around her rice and vegetables.
"I know you did," Gil whispered. He bit his bottom lip as they watched each other. "Did you feel like that again today?"
"Briefly, this afternoon," she said. "Nick went back to his office for some meetings, and I… I've been matched with these young CSIs and they're lovely and bright and enthusiastic, and we were talking. Something about it reminded me of that time on swing shift, when I was the senior CSI coming into a new team, and I was sad I wasn't with my own team. I felt…deeply sad and lonely. It was only for a moment today, one moment out of a good day, and it was only the memory of the feeling from that time and not the feeling itself, but I was relieved to leave." She smirked. "Maybe I'm overthinking and that's just how normal people feel when work ends for the day, who knows."
Gil chuckled softly. He leant forward and stretched his left arm across the table towards her, and Sara slid her left hand into his and pressed her lips together in a self-deprecating smile. She watched Gil's hand close gently around her own and sighed.
"Listen," he said after they sat in silence. "That was ten years ago, and you were nervous to start on the swing shift too, do you remember? It's not surprising that going back to the lab would remind you of these different times in Vegas, but you're so much more now than you were then. I'm not worried, but there's always…counselling, if you want it, if you find that feeling – or the memory of it – isn't going away. And if you're worried that you'll want to leave the lab or San Diego the way you left Vegas then that's fine, it's okay. As long as when you do leave, this time I get to come too."
"Well, you do cook for me," Sara said. She laughed.
Gil shot her a look and it was playful but it also hurt her.
He had cooked for her back then, too.
Sara squeezed his hand as tightly as she could. She felt their rings press into her skin and hoped he felt that too, she hoped he understood that she would never do that to them again.
If anything, she felt silly for missing him during the day, as if she couldn't get through a full day at work without her husband! But the truth was, Sara had always felt that way, ever since she first arrived in Vegas to work with him, long before they were truly together. If she wasn't working a case side-by-side with Gil, she was thinking about Gil and why she wasn't partnered with him, and she had missed him, and it had driven her nuts. At least she didn't have that heartache anymore.
She reluctantly let go of his hand, but only to take a sip of wine as they finished their dinner.
"Sara," Gil said after another moment.
She looked at him curiously, with a softer smile, but Gil's gaze was surprisingly strong. Direct.
"You can say 'stop' at any time," he said in a firm voice. He almost sounded angry, but he wasn't angry at her. He was still bothered by the job and its consequences. In the early days he had always appeared so stupidly confused when Sara got upset or frustrated or obsessed with cases on the job, he didn't understand why she should feel anything for the victims when, as CSIs, they were there as objective scientists. That was a very long time ago. Gil still might not have understood the how or why of it, but his empathy for her was infinite, and Gil had never forgiven the job for what it had done to her. The minute Sara left him behind in Vegas, he started to slowly, tentatively, back away from the lab and his career. He had told her this. He knew what he had done and why.
A year after she left, when he then also left Vegas to find her, he left for good.
He was done.
He would never stop her from doing this time in labs every year to keep her qualifications current, because that was an important safety net in her own life, but he had not forgiven the work for how it had affected their life. Hearing that in his voice, Sara knew she had just really scared him.
"This work stuff at the lab-" he began. He couldn't even finish.
Sara shook her head and did her best to reassure him with her smile and a steady gaze.
"It's fine," she promised. "I want to be here, Gil. And I take back what I said about being on the boat too long, it's nothing to do with that." She paused. "I still just miss working with you."
Gil's eyes lit up and the surprised, softer smile on his face chased their lurking demons away.
It didn't last, and Sara felt terrible. It had been a long time since Gil cried in bed. After the initial shock of their reconciliation had worn off they had settled into life on the boat together, and most of the time when they made love it was fun and joyful, and kind of routine in a very nice way. This felt different again, because these weren't even the happy tears or relieved tears they had both often cried over those first few weeks together a year ago. Sara was holding him wrapped in their new sheets while he wept big fat sad tears into her neck. She brushed his tears from his cheeks and through his beard and eased them onto their sides so he didn't have to work to hold his weight off her, and she wrapped her other arm tightly around his bare back and stroked his warm, damp skin.
This was her fault. She had brought up the past, and it sucked. Most of the time it was easy enough to believe they had never been apart, never on opposite sides of the world, never divorced, but in a couple of weeks they would celebrate one year back together, one year of their re-marriage. Because of the way Sara had derailed what could have been a light and friendly dinner conversation, that past felt more recent, the time apart felt more raw, and making love had felt…more important.
It also wasn't lost on Sara that they hadn't had sex on solid ground in months. She was the only reason they were there. Gil had been trying so hard for the past few days to cope with that too.
"Listen to me," she whispered in his ear when she heard him settle and he pulled her close. "Gil, everything's going to be all right. Honey, I'm okay, I'm more than okay."
"I know, I felt that," he said. He pressed a tender, wet kiss to the underside of her jaw as she tipped her head back, wanting to look into his eyes, but he was too determined to prevent it.
"Oh, I bet you did," she teased quickly. "I felt it too." She felt her own eyes sparkle as he snorted into her skin and she giggled. She combed her fingers through his silver-white hair as they both relaxed. She tried to stick with levity when she added, "Missed me that much, huh?"
Gil just nodded and kissed her neck again, comfortably nestled in against her, shielding his face from both Sara and the warm yellow lamplight in the room. Sara blinked away her own tears.
"I suppose we should be thankful neither of us wanted to leap off the boat and get as far away from the other person as we could," she joked. When Gil said nothing again she added more seriously, "I hope you know, that ten years ago I would not have even had that conversation over dinner with you, I'd have kept it to myself. I'm sorry if it upset you but I'm not sorry about it. And I know you didn't cry in front of me like this back then. So, it's better now, Gil. It's so much better."
"I know," he whispered. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Sara. Nothing. I'm so sorry."
"Don't be sorry. Thank you for my new sheets," she said. She took a deep breath. "Can you look me in the eyes yet?"
He shook his head. Sara knew her husband was deeply embarrassed. Besides not wanting to look at her, one of his hands was loosely balled in a fist against her back. She sighed. She wasn't embarrassed, and he didn't need to be either, but she understood. He was normally so composed and quietly strong and intellectual. It had been a long time since he had lost control of his emotions.
"Let's just sleep, then," she suggested. "Let's just go to sleep. I love you, Gil."
She didn't care that he didn't say it back. He had said it to her a few times in the throes of passion and that was more than she needed. She stayed awake as she felt him quickly fall asleep.
They hadn't slept well all week, she remembered. This bed alone was such a relief.
But Sara couldn't sleep. When she was confident that Gil was out, she eased herself away from him and went to the bathroom. She washed up and put her pyjamas on. When she got back to bed, Gil had rolled onto his stomach and had thrown an arm out over her side of the bed. Sara took a moment to appreciate his strong back and the attractive shape of his arm as she turned off the lamp at his bedside table. She walked into the living room to collect her tablet and the terrible drugstore glasses from her bag, and she collected a glass of water and brought everything back into the bedroom. She set her things on her own bedside table and carefully climbed back into bed. She propped herself up against a few pillows and smiled as Gil lifted his own forearm and dropped it back down across her abdomen. I'm here, she thought as she put on her glasses. She raised her knees and balanced the tablet on the slope of her thighs, and tapped out a few friendly emails to Greg, to Catherine, to let them both know she and Gil were well and had arrived safely in San Diego.
When she was done, she turned the tablet off and put it aside, and she sat back and sipped her water. She felt relaxed and sleepy, her body was still nicely sated thanks to her passionate husband and their efforts. Her free hand rested over Gil's arm as he slept, breathing deeply into his pillow. The bed was much bigger than the bed on the boat, and Sara was amused that Gil had subconsciously spread out, but they were used to always touching. There was no way for them to sleep on the boat at the same time without touching, and that had just become an established part of their relationship. In the early days, they had put so much effort into not touching one another at work lest someone see them, but none of that mattered anymore. They didn't care what anyone else thought. If they wanted to hold hands or hug or have sex on the boat, they did.
They were the only witnesses.
We're the only team left in the game out here, Sara remembered Gil saying to her on the boat once, and it was still true even if for the time being they weren't at sea. They would be again.
And that was going to be the odd thing about work, Sara realised. She was there as a temp, Nick was doing her a favour, she was never going to be a part of that team, and she didn't want to be. She just hoped that she could contribute something useful to these open cases before she and Gil left, even if they remained open and she never got a sense of closure from the cases themselves.
When she was younger she had always wanted stability, constancy. In foster care and then even as a younger adult she had taken it as a given that people would flit in and out of her life. There was the favourite social worker who had visited a few times after her father's death, and Sara had always sobbed after she left, having felt such a strong connection to her, even though she couldn't remember the woman's name anymore. There were the school friends who came and went as they outgrew Sara or she outgrew them, drawn to a more scientific and unusual career that those more traditional friends who were all now married with children never quite understood, because they didn't know her past and what had happened in her own life. She had gotten used to not forming lasting relationships, with anyone, but she had never forgotten how it felt to be left behind.
Now she was the one flitting casually in and out of other people's lives. Sophie's life, Lochie's, everyone she had met for the first time that day, even Nick's life. Now Sara was the one who was going to drop into their world out of nowhere and then leave just as quickly, perhaps just as Sophie got to thinking of her as a friend, or just as Lochie warmed to her sense of humour.
She wasn't going to be a constant for them, and she didn't know how she felt about that yet. She had always tried to be a constant for others, for herself; her time in Vegas was evidence of that.
But this wasn't Vegas, and this was a purely selfish thing she was doing now, and maybe that was okay for her, but it was hard to reconcile, especially if it was going to cause other people harm.
Nick was her friend, her best friend after Gil, one of the only other people who had stuck around in her life, like she had stuck around in his, and they did miss each other when she was away. He would be sad when she left again. He would be sad every time she left. Gil himself had no real desire to be back in the US and he was there for her, and maybe he would feel a bit sad like this every time they returned. She didn't know, they hadn't done it enough times yet for them to find out. Gil was willing to risk it though, so that she could do this work. And she'd had fun, in fact. It had felt great to be a part of conversations in a lab again and to handle evidence and hold a gun, even liberating, after spending so long on the boat with Gil, and she felt guilty for feeling that way too.
So, it was complicated. Sara certainly wasn't going to solve how she felt about this in one night, after one day. She just sensed it was the right thing to do, and maybe one day in hindsight that would explain itself. All she could do for the time being was minimise the harm she caused.
She took off her glasses, turned off the lamp, and lay down with her arm around Gil's back.