Author: Darlaranger
Story Title: Love Changes Us
Chapter Title: The Body in the Mirror
Summary: A Shower all Alone
Disclaimer: I own nothing, literally. I have 6 dollars in my checking account and maybe 30 in my savings. If CBS and Bruckheimer really want my last 36 bucks, they can have it, as long as it means we keep getting episodes as good as Homebodies was.
Spoilers: As I plan to ignore pretty much everything that actually goes on during the episodes, I'd say you're pretty much safe here. I'll warn people if that changes.
Thanks to Sara Grissom for the first review. It's ALWAYS about the Geek Love!
And, on with the show:
Sara stepped out of the shower onto the rug in front of the wall-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. She reached for the thick white towel on the countertop across from where she stood, and began to dry herself off. When she was satisfied that she wouldn't drip water throughout the house, she wrapped the towel around her body and tucked it tight into a bit of a knot. She reaches for the doorknob but then catches sight of herself in mirror—stops, and lets the towel drop.
She sees a woman, rather naked and overrun with goose bumps as her skin catches the draft coming in through under the bathroom door. Her hair is longer than she remembers it being. It must have grown during the past few months. She really ought to get it cut—it's been getting in the way at work—but Grissom seems to like it at its current length. He's always running the strands between his fingers as they lie in bed together, her backside cradled to his chest.
Her body has changed too. She's filled out a bit and Grissom can no longer count her ribs through her skin. He's been making her eat—making sure that she actually remembers to eat, and that she eats in a semi-balanced manner. And though she's yet to convince him that chocolate is an essential food group of its own, she is paying more attention to basic needs like that.
But it's more than just extra weight on the scale—the big changes are where the weight has gone. She's got curves now that she never had before. Her hips have widened, giving her walk a delightful swish that Grissom seems to really enjoy watching. Her face has rounded a bit too; her cheek bones are no longer sharp enough to cut glass. But the biggest changes are on her chest. Her newly sensitive breasts have grown almost to the point where she can no longer fit into her biggest bras without some discomfort.
And then there's her abdomen. She turns sideways to look at it.
Yep, she's got a little pouch there now. Of course, like all women, she always had one, but this one is a bit bigger, and it's hard, harder than she ever expected it to be. She moves her hands up and places them on the bit of protruding flesh there.
She's surprised he hasn't noticed these last two lately. He's had plenty of opportunities during the night in the moments before work when her pants require a bit more effort than normal to zip up, or when his arm accidentally brushes against her chest and she gives a large gasp. Or during the day, when making love to her breasts with his mouth, or kissing over every inch of skin on her body.
But he didn't, and for quite awhile, neither did she.
3 days ago…
Sara walked into the locker room, grumbling about inept police officers who couldn't even hold their stomachs at a standard death by gunshot case. She wondered how the young man would fare if he ever had to work with a decomp, or a floater, or some of the atrocities she had seen lately.
She went over to her locker and opened it, slamming the door against its neighbor, as she hurriedly stripped out of her jeans and shirt so that she was standing there in just a bra and panties. Catherine entered as Sara was routing through her locker for the extra pair of clothes she was sure she had in there.
"Hey, you okay" Catherine asked as she took a seat on the bench near Sara.
"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm always fine when rookie cops spill their guts all over my clothes. Just dandy. In fact, I'd be perfect if I could just find my extra clothes."
"I think you used your extra set about a week ago—after we had to go wading through Lake Mead to get at that body at the bottom?"
"Damn, you're right. I forgot to bring a new set. Now I'll have to smell like partially digested salami for the rest of the night. Rookies..."
Catherine moved closer to Sara, braving the smelly clothes and vicious temper, "Are you sure you're okay?"
Sara sat down, "Yeah, I'm just a little pissed at that cop, that's all."
"Are you pissed at him because he threw up on you? Or are you pissed at yourself because half the vomit on your clothing is your own?"
Sara looked up sharply, "What? What are you talking about?"
"When you went to 'clean up' you barely made it into the bathroom of the theater before doing the same yourself. You didn't even make it to a stall. I know because I followed to see if you were okay, you've been doing that quite a bit lately—usually with a little better aim though."
For a moment, Sara doesn't know what to say, "I've just been feeling a little off lately, that's all. Probably some flu I picked up somewhere. Wasn't Greg out with something last week? I probably just caught that."
Catherine smiled, "Unless you caught a tall redhead in bed, I'm pretty sure you don't have what Greg 'had' last week." Catherine paused and looked at Sara's face, noticing the fatigue and barely hidden worry just below the façade of carefree happiness that she was trying to put on. "Sara, I know about you and Gil. I know that the two of you have been sleeping together and that you've begun a rather serious relationship outside of work."
"How?"
"For the past six months, the two of you have come to work exactly 5 minutes apart and each with a gigantic smile upon your face. You've not maxed out on overtime for about the same period, and you and Gil, while not advertising your rekindled friendship, have been on civil terms at work. It wasn't a flying leap to take."
"Does anyone else know?"
"No."
"Good," Sara turned her head to the wall, focusing on the pattern of the bricks there.
"Sara…" Catherine started, tentatively.
"I'm pregnant." The words surprise her; she hadn't meant to tell anyone. She hasn't even said the words aloud to herself yet.
"Are you sure? How far along are you? What did Gil say?" Though she had been secretly anticipating this situation, Catherine's enthusiasm was not dampened in any way.
"I'm pretty sure, I haven't taken a test yet, but I recognize the symptoms—nausea, dizziness, irritability, increased sensitivity of breasts, and most importantly, a missed period, or two. And I haven't told Gris yet, I'd appreciate it if you didn't either. I'm not sure if I'm going to."
"Oh, Sara," Catherine's voice took on a mothering quality, "why?"
"Because I'm pretty sure that he doesn't want children. I'm not even sure if I want children."
"Sara…what are you going to do?"
"I don't know; can we just let it go for a bit? We've got to get back to work—I've got to get some clothes, and so on."
Catherine puts her arm around the younger woman, "If you want to talk, if you need to, I'm always here, ok?" Sara nods and Catherine goes to her locker and pulls out a duffel bag. She throws it to Sara, "These won't really fit you, but they'll do for the ride to your place."
Sara wraps herself up in the towel again, the conversation with Catherine echoing in her mind, and walks out of the bathroom and down the hall to her bedroom. She goes in and finds Gris exactly where she knew he would be—in bed, fast asleep. For a minute, she considered waking him, if not to discuss the situation with him, then just to feel his body pressed hard against hers, moving over her—to feel him as he loved her.
But she was tired too and instead grabbed the t-shirt he had been wearing earlier and pulled it over her head. Then she threw the towel in the corner and got into bed, scooting as close as possible to him. He moved toward her and even extended his arm as if to take her to him. But she just took hold of it and pressed it against her heart—see how my heart beats for you—and joined him in sleep.