A/N: At last . . . the happy ending to the fairytale. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing. -Jac
"What room are we going to tackle next?" Sara asked as she wiped the sweat from her forehead. It was another humid summer day in Bethesda. We went straight from the airport to my apartment. The movers were ready and waiting on us, as were my parents. My mother instantly remembered Sara. My father commented that I looked well. It was something that I hadn't heard him say in years. It was odd that I looked so much worse than my seventy-four year old father.
The four of us spent the day trying to get each of my rooms somewhat assembled so I could go back to work in four days. Sara drove my mother to the grocery store so I could have food in the kitchen. Sara picked up lunch from one of the local delis. I laughed when Sara teased that they didn't have anything double, double animal style. She might not have been domestic by trade, but I knew she still cared about me despite the fact that so many years had passed by.
"When do you go back to work?" I asked as we flopped down on my sofa. The air conditioning had finally cooled the apartment to a temperature that was slightly more comfortable. I had long since sent my mother and father to their hotel with the promise that tomorrow I would take them sight-seeing.
"I still have a few days of vacation. It's in between training classes. It's kind of like my spring break," Sara replied.
"Spring break without bikinis and beaches. Sidle, you really know how to party," I teased.
"I'm too damn old to party, Stokes. I'm not exactly a spring chicken anymore," she replied as she closed her eyes. It was already one in the morning. Neither of us planned on being awake so long, but we kept saying we would sleep after the kitchen was unpacked. Little did I know, I had a ton of kitchen supplies that I didn't remember ever purchasing.
"You make it sound like you are eighty," I replied.
"I feel like I'm eighty," Sara retorted.
"Go sleep in my bedroom. I'll take the couch tonight," I instructed.
"I can't move. Your mother can be quite the slave driver when it comes to organizing a bathroom and a spice rack . . . and shopping. She was a woman with a mission today," Sara replied. I knew that my mother was a little on the demanding side. I had always teased Mom about being the original Martha Steward. I watched my mother instruct Sara as to how to properly iron curtains and how to make perfect hospital corners on the bed. Sara had been a good sport all day. My father had even commented that Sara was very, very calm. Years ago, no one would have ever said that about Sara.
"I'll tire her out tomorrow when I take them sight-seeing. That way you can take me out for supper tomorrow night," I replied.
"I thought I would go with you. A lot of the monuments offer limited access to the public. You'd be surprised at what an FBI badge can do," Sara replied. Her eyes were still closed. Her voice began to fade at the end of her sentences.
"Let's get some sleep. Mom wakes up at six in the morning," I said.
"You've got to be kidding me," Sara said as she tried to open her eyes. I scooped Sara up and carried her to the bedroom. It took her by surprise, but she was too tired to fight back. I laid her across the bed.
"Thanks for letting me be here with you," she whispered.
"Thanks for being free slave labor," I teased as I began to retreat from the bedroom.
"Stokes, get in bed. I'm too tired to put any moves on you," Sara teased.
"Are you sure?" I asked as I walked back towards the bed.
"Just get in bed," Sara said.
"So you would put your moves on me if you weren't so tired?" I asked as I laid down next to her on top of all the sheets.
"You'll just have to wait and see," Sara replied.
"Are you flirting with me, Sara Sidle?"
"You'll just have to wait and see," Sara said again.
"Good night, Sar," I said as I kissed her cheek.
"Good night, Nicky," Sara replied.
We woke up the next morning with her body tucked up against mine. My arm hung on the angle of her hip. It was all perfect despite the doorbell waking us from a deep slumber. My mother was waiting to make me breakfast. My father yawned as he waited for me to open the door. My mother told me that I shouldn't have worked Sara so hard yesterday. The poor girl looks exhausted, Nicholas, my mother said as Sara dragged herself out into the kitchen in search of coffee. It made me laugh because I wasn't exactly the one that worked Sara to death.
The day passed uneventfully. My mother and father were impressed at the grandness of Quantico when we took Sara to her apartment so she could shower and change. Sara called up one of the other forensic instructors to see if they were available to take my parents on a tour of the campus. My mother nearly fainted when a young cadet came to the door and called Sara 'Agent Sidle.' I slept in her bed for an hour and a half while my parents toured the campus. My mother never did stop talking about her trip to Quantico. My father said she told all the women in her bridge club about how she got to meet an FBI agent. Apparently, Sara and I had become the talk of the town in Texas.
The rest of the day was spent touring Washington DC. Sara occasionally flashed her badge to get us behind the scenes at some of the monuments. We got to meet the head of security at the white house. Apparently, he and Sara took their firearms recertification test at the same time. Agent Sellers said that she was a dead on shot. My father appeared impressed. Agent Sellers took us to see some of the areas that the public is not privy to. My mother marveled at the grandness of the kitchen and the number of chefs and assistants running about.
My mother and father talked about Sara for weeks after they left Bethesda. My sister even called up to warn me that my mother didn't want me to screw this relationship up. My mother called me weekly to see if Sara was doing well. She would often times ask about Sara before she would inquire about my well-being. My father said that he was glad that I was finally happy.
I like to think that Sara was also happy. I hoped that maybe I could make her happy for a long time. I was able to gage the status of our relationship by how much of her stuff managed to accumulate at my apartment and how often Sara joined me and my interns for journal club meetings. Within the span of two years we began to look at larger apartments and condos to accommodate what we had accumulated as a couple.
"So this does have a happy ending?" Brass asked as he approached me as I leaned up against a cement pillar in the concourse of Regan International Airport.
"It does," I replied as I lead him through the maze of people to the baggage carousel. It definitely hadn't been the traditional fairytale where the prince saves the princess, and they live happily ever after. It had been much more tumultuous than that, but it had been worth waiting for.
"Now, this father of the bride thing I'm doing . . . it doesn't involve any shopping or girl crap," Brass said as I grabbed his luggage. I knew Brass was secretly thrilled that he was the one that was chosen to give Sara. We all knew he would never have the chance to give Ellie away.
"No, my dad, Greg, you, and me are going golfing today while Sara and my mom finish orchestrating the wedding," I kidded.
"She's going to make a beautiful bride, kid," Jim said, "Warrick, Catherine, and Grissom were a little surprised that they weren't invited."
"There's a little too much bad history there. You and Greg were the only ones that didn't spend ten years pushing me into a life that I didn't really want," I commented.
"How big is this shin-dig?" Brass asked.
"Completely out of control. Between Sara's coworkers at Quantico, my coworkers in Bethesda, my family, and a handful of our students . . . it's getting to be a little overwhelming," I replied as I put the suitcase in the back of my car.
"You take care of her," Brass said as we began to drive toward his hotel.
"I didn't spend twelve years waiting to let this slip through my hands," I replied.
"Time is precious, kid. That's what I've learned . . . never forget it," Brass replied.
"I won't."
FIN