Author: Darlaranger
Story Title: Love Changes Us
Chapter Title: Ain't that a Kicker
Summary: Sara tells Grissom
Disclaimer: I own nothing, literally. I now have about 52 bucks in my savings account but if CBS and Bruckheimer really want it they can have it. As long as Butterflied turns out to be as awesome as it's sounding. However, if they do take my cash, they'll have to live with the fact that no one will be getting any Christmas presents this year.
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.
Apparently, I cannot write longer chapters. I tried, I really did. But it just doesn't work. I suppose that for some people--those with the attention span of a gnat, like myself--this is a good thing. But for anyone else who doesn't like short chapters, I'm sorry.
And, on with the show:
"Pregnant? My Sara?"
For a moment, Catherine takes pity on him--this pale, frail-looking man standing before her--but then decides to push him just a little farther. She moves up to him and puts her hand on his arm, which is trembling beneath his shirt.
"Yes, pregnant. Your Sara, with your child. Now do you see why you can't push her away?" Catherine looks up into his eyes, which are troubled and focusing on something in the distance. She follows his sight line and sees that he's looking at a picture of the formerly happy family that lived here. She gives his arm a squeeze, "Hey, it'll be okay."
"No, you don't know...I told Sara this morning that I didn't want children, ever. Oh, God. She was trying to tell me this morning and all I did is tell her that I didn't..." He looks around furiously, "I think I'm going to..."
Catherine begins to pat his shoulder. "You're going to be fine. Go find her, go talk with her, and work everything out." She guides him out of the bathroom, and almost into Brass.
"Just so you know, one of my officers just took Sidle home. She actually asked, so it must've been serious, whatever bug she's got."
The only thing that registers with Grissom are the words Sara and home. He takes the keys offered by Catherine and walks toward the door, not acknowledging Brass or Catherine on his way out. Once he was out of sight, Brass nudges Catherine and says, "Those two make a cute couple, don't ya think?"
Catherine is stunned. "You know?" she asks, amazed.
"Well, I kind of walked in on them in Grissom's office once; they were on the couch. Before anything serious got going but it was pretty embarrassing for the three of us, especially since Grissom still had one hand up Sara's shirt and the other making its way into her pants. It was kind of hard for them to deny that anything was going on then."
She looks over at them, "It'll be even harder soon. She's pregnant."
He grins, "Well, ain't that a kicker?"
She grins back, "It will be, it will be."
Grissom's quite lucky that he didn't have an accident on the way back to his, no their, house. He doesn't remember the drive at all; he was preoccupied with other thoughts. Images of Sara wouldn't leave his mind--Sara in bed, Sara under him, Sara in the shower, Sara in the kitchen, Sara asleep at his side. He can see now how she's changed in the past few months, how her body has changed and her moods. If only he had paid closer attention, maybe, maybe what? Maybe he'd know what to say to her; maybe he'd know how to feel.
He sits in the car for a few moments after turning the engine off, just collecting his thoughts, preparing himself. Finally, with a glance up to the window of their bedroom, he gets out and heads to the door.
Inside it's quiet. Normally when he gets home after her, there's music blaring from the speakers of his stereo. She knows he enjoys it, though he complains that he'll lose his hearing again. Today, there is no music. He wonders what this means.
After searching the first floor, he makes his way up to their bedroom, knowing that he'll find her there; hoping that she'll be asleep so that he can have a bit more time to collect his thoughts. But when he opens the door, he knows that hoping is fruitless, she's awake. And it's not quiet up here.
She's sitting on the floor, wrapped in a towel, hair falling wetly down around her face, leaving drops of water to mingle with the tears she's crying. Griss isn't sure if he should back out—she hasn't seen him yet—and come back later when she's done crying, or go in and comfort her. The problem is that he doesn't know how to deal with these tears. He can handle Sara's angry tears, he can handle her happy tears, and he even can handle the miscellaneous tears that she just seems to break into sometimes. But he's not sure that he's equipped to handle the hot, silent tears she's crying now.
Mind soon made up, he goes to sit on the floor next to her and gathers her into his lap. Her head searches out the curve of his neck and she leans into him, crying harder. Soon his shirt is wet with her tears and his legs are beginning to cramp up, but they don't move from their spot at all.
A long time later her tears finally stop and her gasping breaths slow down. He continues to rock with her on the floor, rubbing his hand up and down her back, her leg; every now and then softly planting a kiss on her wet head.
She shifts in his arms and sits to look into his eyes. Her face is puffy and pink, her eyes red and baggy. He thinks that she's beautiful, but if he tries to tell her, she'd likely think him teasing and get upset. He leans his head in, his heart pounding with the secret they share but cannot acknowledge, and kisses the last lone tear that is making its way down her face.
She sniffles, and then, "Griss…?"
"Mmmhmmm?" He can't help it, he stiffens a bit.
"I'm pregnant." It sounds so final to both of them.
"I know."