"How Much Longer?"

August 14, 2005 (Day 114)
Crime Lab
Grissoms' Office
6:58 a.m.

Grissom tossed Greg's personnel file on his desk and took a seat while Greg chomped on his thumbnail and awaited the bad news.

"Gris, thanks for handling all this so I don't have to start off on a negative with Nick."

"I hate doing it, but…" Grissom leveled a heavy sigh. "I can't avoid it because Hodges was involved too." Opening the file, he checked the date on Greg's CSI paperwork.

"How long will my file be flagged?"

"Six months."

"That long?"

"Sorry." Grissom began filling out the form. "Your review for CSI II will fall within the flagged period so, your promotion, assuming you've met all requirements and not had any further personnel issues, will be delayed by at least three months. No salary increase during the time period either."

"So, if all goes well I'll have it before the baby arrives."

"What is Tawny's due date?" Grissom inquired out of curiosity.

"Based on conceiving July 21st with me…" He held up two sets of crossed fingers. "…her due date will be April 12th. Seems like an eternity."

"And you're not the one carrying the baby around." Grissom's thoughts turned to an image of Sara heavy with child. "So um…what else did the doctor say?"

"Our first appointment isn't until her 8th week. Her doctor just prescribed pre-natal vitamins and gave her a bunch of stuff to read. We got the due date from a website where you plunk in the date you think you conceived and it tells you the estimated due date."

"Really?" Opening his laptop, he asked, "Do you remember the website address?"

"Pregnancy dot com, then click on pregnancy, then due date calculator." He taunted, "Is this personal research or business?"

"I'm a curious scientist twenty-four seven, Greg. You can't mention something like this and not expect me to check it out." Grissom pulled up the site and followed Greg's instructions. "Here it is. So let's see…we'll use today's date as an example. Hypothetically, if someone were to conceive today her due date would be…May 7th." Instantly he was lost visualizing that day…the rush to the hospital…the birth of his first child…Sara's gleaming eyes and beautiful smile.

"Hey! Where did you go just know? You know, it's not going to happen with you at work." Laughing, Greg pointed to his watch. "Shift's over, how much longer are you going to wait to go home to your wife?"

"Very funny." Grissom closed his laptop. "Actually, I spoke with her an hour ago and she was going to sleep. I told her I'd be home at eleven."

"That's not too much longer," Greg winked.

Unamused, Grissom snipped, "Would you get out of here so I can write you up!"

"This is cool…after today, you're not my boss." Standing up, he remarked, "Now we're just buds, so I can really needle you."

"I'll never be your 'bud', Greg." Grissom feigned a scowl. "That would imply we're equals. I think our poker match proved otherwise."

"That sounded a little…angry."

Pointing to the door, he didn't utter another word.

Nick and Carrie's Apartment
8:28 a.m.

"Would you hurry up already, Nicky! What's taking you so long?" Carrie huffed. "Being late isn't going to make a very good impression on Pastor Tobias. If we expect to get married in his church, we should show some respect."

Racing out of the bedroom, Nick continued buttoning his dress shirt. "Sorry…sorry…sorry." Tossing a kiss on her cheek, he sweetly said, "Did I mention I'm sorry? I'm out of practice at this get up and get dressed for church thing."

"I really want to get married in this church." Straightening his collar, she explained, "It's very pretty and my brother and sister-in-law are members so we have a great chance at getting our preferred date."

Cracking a cowboy grin, he said, "Why are we still standing around jabbering and wasting time? Let's go!"

Greg and Tawny's Apartment
9:59 a.m.

Already dressed in a pair of jeans and a lime green Ted Baker French cuff button down, Greg sat on the edge of the bed flipping through the latest issue of Forensic Science Monthly while waiting for Tawny to model her next outfit selection.

"What about this?" She asked while smoothing her hands over her fuchsia Capri pants before straightening her white crochet camisole.

Lifting his gaze, he did a once over and confessed, "I love it but I loved the first three outfits too. I think you're way too worried about this brunch. It's just Nick…"

"And Carrie!" Tawny plopped on the bed. "She's a smart, big time lawyer. I don't want to show up looking like a stripper. I'm worried enough that I'm going to say or do something stupid in front of her."

"We're going to her house for a personal visit, not her office to discuss legal briefs…it's casual." Tossing his arm around her shoulder, he gave an encouraging squeeze. "Anyway, I bet you're much better at Algebra than Carrie. Lawyers are verbal creatures…they suck at math. I'll try to work an equation into the conversation so you can show off."

"Thanks," She replied, grateful he cared enough to want to make her feel special. "I know it's much too early for maternity clothes but seriously, I don't know how much longer I'll fit into my shirts!" Cupping her boobs, she whined, "I'm busting out a little more every day."

"Really?" With a sly smile, Greg glanced at her bountiful bosom. "Now that you mention it…"

Playfully shoving him, she rolled her eyes. "As if you didn't notice."

"Busted."

"Seriously…I'm afraid if they keep growing at this rate, by April I won't be able to stand up straight. Some girls end up with terrible back problems later in life." Concerned, she sighed, "And what happens when my milk comes in? My whole head might disappear behind the girls!"

"Don't worry, I'll navigate my way through them to kiss you."

"I hope I can breastfeed," She announced while staring down at her enhanced mammaries. "I read on the Internet that some women aren't able to after implants because of nerve damage. I'm really starting to regret augmentation now that I don't need it to boost my career."

"Ha! Boost your career." Greg realized his joke wasn't appreciated. "Oh…sorry…this is like a serious conversation. Subtract five cool points."

Without delay she updated his score. "894."

"See how good you are at math!"

Desert Springs Church
10:15 a.m.

Sitting in the pew next to Carrie and flanked by her brother's family, Nick stared at the preacher while wondering…how much longer can this guy possibly ramble on? If he talks this much at my wedding I'll be kissing my bride when I'm sixty-five. Good lord, he's verbose. Oh…did I just take the lord's name in vain in a house of god? Shit. Wait…does it count if you don't say it out loud? Damn…I 'm rusty at this church stuff.

Giving her fiancé's hand a squeeze, Carrie whispered, "So what do you think?"

"I like the second choice," He quietly replied.

Knitting her brow, she inquired, "What second choice?"

"Oh…sorry." He winked. "I thought we were still talking about napkins."

The Grissoms'
10:55 a.m.

After coming home from work, Gil quietly entered the bedroom, expecting to find Sara asleep.

"Hi, Honey," She weakly greeted from her position in the bathroom doorway. "I was on my way back to bed but felt a little weak so I'm just leaning here for a second."

Since he had known her, he had never seen her so ill. "You look much worse."

"Thanks." Having just checked her appearance in the mirror she knew she only looked half as bad as she felt.

Hurrying to her side, he rested the back of his hand on her forehead. "You're burning up."

"103 and holding." She brought a clump of tissues to her nose. "That damn Robitussin isn't doing anything and neither is the Tylenol."

Taking her arm he advised, "What you need is sleep and fluids."

"You've got it half right," She managed to quip. "I don't need sleep right now." Lifting her right hand, she displayed the fertility monitor. "It's time for some baby making love. As Doris predicted, I'm ripe!"

"Yes you are, Sweetie." The outside temperature was 108 degrees and with the air conditioning switched off in this part of the house, he figured that was probably the temperature inside the bedroom as well. Moving Sara's sweat drenched hair off her face, he said, "Did you um…take a shower since I last saw you yesterday evening?" Reaching out, he took the fertility monitor out of her hand and placed it on the dresser. Considering her condition, he couldn't imagine breathing the same air as her, no less cozying up to her to make love.

"I'm sorry…the chills are too bad to think about showering. I even had to turn off the air conditioning in here." Wrapping her arms around her overly clothed body, she whined, "I have two shirts and a sweatshirt on and I'm still cold. There's no way I'm getting out of these layers of clothes."

Trying for some levity and optimism, he joked, "Well okay, but I think we'll be more successful if you lose the pajama bottoms." Then he relented, "Sara…you're not seriously considering going through with this, are you?"

"Yes! We have no choice." Realizing the circumstances were less than ideal, she smiled, "I'll toss the pajama bottoms after I burrow under the blankets to avoid a chill."

"Okay then." Feeling completely unmotivated and knowing she was physically weak, he hoped she'd offer some verbal encouragement to get the ball rolling.

Trudging over to the bed, Sara sighed, "Come on…let's get this over with as fast as possible."

Watching her breathe through her mouth and listening to her wheeze through her nose, he sighed, "When you put it like that I can hardly wait."

"I'm so sorry, Honey. It's not personal." Crawling onto the bed, she groaned and flopped onto her back, pulling the covers up to her neck. "I'm just soooo not in the mood for this right now. All I want to do is sleep. I feel horrible…my sinuses are draining into my throat and coating it with gunk, then it's all going down into my stomach and making me nauseous, and if that wasn't bad enough…"

"I get the picture." Standing at the edge of the bed, he was desperately trying to erase it. "Uh…warm enough?" He sweetly asked while struggling to warm up to the idea of climbing into bed with his wife and her toxic virus.

Weakly, she nodded. "I know this sounds funny but, could you try not to touch me when we're doing this?"

Unbuttoning his shirt, he informed her, "Uh…I think I'm going to have to make some contact or…"

"Besides that contact." Breathing hard through her germ-filled mouth, she explained, "I mean don't try to kiss me…"

"I don't think you have to worry about that!" Looking at her fevered lips and bright red nose, he exhaled a desperate sigh, "I think I'll remain a safe, eight to ten inches from your face at all times."

"Thanks." Her palm landed on her aching head. "And try not to move around a lot because my head is throbbing and motion makes it worse."

Kicking off his shoes and socks, he nodded. "I'll do my best, but you do remember how this works, right? A modicum of momentum is required."

Loving his sense of humor, she faintly smiled. "I mean…don't get fancy…don't concern yourself with making it good for me or making it last, because no matter what you do, I'm going to be miserable."

"Honey, I know where you're coming from, but comments like that really aren't motivational." Throwing his shirt on the end of the bed, he pleaded with her, "The troops won't march unless they receive the order from my brain and if you keep talking like that…"

"Understood!" Buried under the blankets, Sara tossed out only her pajama bottoms, leaving her two shirts and a bulky sweatshirt in place. "Not much of a striptease, huh? Sorry, Boom Boom is too sick to shimmy."

The dreadful expression on her fever flushed face did nothing to elevate his desire and he opted for a momentary retreat. "Uh…do you need anything before I…"

"Some water would be nice," She softly replied. "I have a bottle on the bathroom counter."

"I'll be right back." Walking into the bathroom, he tried to muster the fortitude to begin the mission. "Anything else while I'm in here?" While there, he dropped his khakis and made a pit stop and thought…I've never been unattracted to Sara. I can't believe this is happening today of all days.

In a fading voice, she replied, "I could use another cough drop." When she heard the toilet flush, she followed up with, "Make sure you wash your hands before grabbing that lozenge!"

He shook his head while kicking his pants across the floor. "Always do, Honey." Standing in his boxers, washing his hands at the sink, he looked at his reflection and silently remarked…I can't believe she wants to go through with this!

"What's taking so long?" Sara griped from the bed. "I can barely keep my eyes open. We really need to hurry up."

Toweling off, Gil noted the utter lack of enthusiasm in his body. "I'll be right there." Convincing himself that once he was in position everything would automatically snap into place, he retrieved Sara's supplies and hustled out of the room.

"Here you go," He cheerily announced while handing her the items and helping her to a seated position.

"Thanks," She droned before taking a few sips and hacking uncontrollably.

Gil finally saw an opportunity to call it a day. "Sara, let's be reasonable…you're too sick to do this."

"No!" She adamantly replied. Then, after another short round of deep lung cleansing, she popped the stinky cough drop in her mouth. "I'm not waiting a whole extra month just because I feel crummy. I can get through this!"

Loving her desperately, he whispered, "I appreciate your positive attitude, but at the moment…uh…I can't."

"Oh." Her gaze darted to his boxers as she figured out his dilemma. "But you have to! Peak fertility only lasts for 12 to 24 hours. The instructions state we have to make love once during the high fertility period, which we did, and once or twice during peak! You need to rise to the challenge!"

"It's not something you can demand and expect…." Frustrated he replied, "This is really hard for me!"

Even though she felt like death warmed over, a tiny chuckle fell from her mouth. "But I thought it wasn't…"

"This is really difficult for me." He had to laugh with her because the situation was too bizarre not to. "Since the day we met I've only thought about wanting to make love with you and for most of those years, I had the urge but not the opportunity. This is the first time ever that I have the opportunity and don't have the urge."

"I'll try harder!" She pleaded. Then light laughter seized her again. "If you try harder." Lifting the covers ever so slightly she encouraged, "Maybe if you lose the boxers and get a little closer you'll feel up to it."

"I love you, Honey," He said sympathetically on her behalf as well as his. While averting his eyes from her face, he followed her directions, shucking his shorts and joining her under the heap of blankets covering the fever-soaked bed sheets. "Anything for you."

"Better?" She inquired while realizing exactly how much she was dreading every minute of the task.

"I'm sure it will be soon." He tried to sound positive while being assaulted by the fragrant smells of her sour body odor and menthol cough drop. "Yes…much better," He lied as he tried to block the horrifying sounds of her congested breathing.

"Good…now pleeease hurry up." She begged, "I'm sorry, but having you this close when I feel this ill is making my skin crawl."

"I really need you to refrain from comments such as those," He pleaded while closing his eyes, hoping biological instinct would miraculously take over. "I uh…need something a little more inspirational from you if you get my drift. Or to follow the old adage, if you can't say anything inspiring…don't say anything at all, just moan."

Nick and Carrie's Apartment
11:18 a.m.

"Do me a favor," Nick asked his cheery fiancée as he watched her slicing strawberries, "Try not to bring up the wedding plans. Considering the situation between Greg and Tawny, I would hate for them to feel uncomfortable or pressured about…"

"No problem." She jeered, "Gosh, you act like it's the only thing I talk about when I'm home."

"Uh…" He opted to let that one go. "And even though I know it's Sunday and we just got preached at for 98 minutes, not that I was counting…promise me you won't go crazy evangelizing about stripping objectifying women?" Her glare caused him to add a caveat. "Of course I agree with you that it does, it's just…I don't want Tawny to feel awkward."

"Honey, I'm not going to do anything to make the poor girl feel uneasy," She assured him. "I'm trying to build her self-esteem, remember?" Then her tone turned sharp. "But when I get Greg alone, he's getting a piece of my mind. Oh yeah, Mr. Irresponsible is going down on cross-exam."

"Poor Greggo," Nick trembled at the thought. "He doesn't stand a chance."

The Grissoms'
11:29 a.m.

After eventually achieving the minimum level of enthusiasm required to begin his mission, Gil focused intently on maintaining the level of effort required to see it through. Unfortunately, Sara didn't keep her promise to try hard as well. Ten minutes into the supposedly mutual undertaking, she fell asleep.

"Sara?" There is a list of things a guy never wants to experience in the bedroom and his partner falling asleep while making love is definitely one of them. "Sara..." He beckoned while lightly shaking her.

"Huh?" Her eyes flickered open. "Sorry…oh…did I fall asleep?"

"Yes, but please don't talk about it, I'm keeping it a secret from my ego."

"Thank god we're done," She blurted. "Now please get off me."

Reluctantly he broke the news. "Uh…we're not done."

"Oh." Her hands flew to her aching head. "How much longer?"

"I'm doing my best." He cringed as he wondered if it would have been better if she remained sleeping. "Unfortunately, my body knows that your body wants no part of this process and it's not conducive to…"

"Come on." She patted him on the head like she was encouraging a cocker spaniel. "You can do it."

"I appreciate your confidence, but under these less than stellar conditions, it's going to take a little while to..."

"Good lord! We've been at it for what…fifteen, twenty minutes!" Frustration filled her phlegmy voice. "It only took three minutes on the airplane the other night! Whatever you did then to expedite matters, just do the same thing now. Pretend there is a line forming outside the door and you need to finish!"

"Talk about comparing apples to oranges!" He had to laugh. "On the plane I was fulfilling a fantasy six years in the making. Not to mention, you were awake and an active participant! This… this is about as enjoyable for me as attending a departmental staff meeting." He rolled his eyes. "Which, by the way, I found out that I'm mandated to attend once I'm in my new position."

"Speaking of position…" Sara gasped for breath like a fish out of water. "Could you um…shift a little, I'm having trouble breathing."

Losing what little enthusiasm he had to begin with, he whimpered, "Oh for the love of god, Sara, can we just admit this isn't going to work?" Backing off, he shook his head. "I'm really sorry but…"

"Wait! Please!" Grabbing his shoulders, she suggested, "If the plane fantasy does it for you, then how about you grab a handful of cocktail peanuts from the kitchen and when you get back, we'll take the action to the bathroom counter and pretend we're a mile high on a 747?"

"Oh, Honey…" The desperation in her eyes gave him the will to go on. "Let's…how about we try having you not talk again, but instead of falling asleep…try to stay awake and keep your hands on my shoulders…and, if you can muster the energy, eventually slide them over my back, okay?"

"Thank you." She appreciated his patience.

He nodded. "I'd say it was my pleasure but…"

"Just one more thing!"

"What?" He replied, while knowing in his gut he should have insisted she keep her mouth shut.

Smoothing her clammy palm over his cheek, she sweetly said, "I know I'm a real turn-off right now, so don't feel obligated to think about me. If you need to think about someone else…that's fine. Don't feel guilty. I'm giving you permission to fantasize."

Shocked by her statement, he replied, "You want me to mentally cheat on you while we're trying to conceive our baby? That's twisted."

"Well…is it really that different than men in the fertility clinic flipping through a magazine when they're giving a specimen for in-vitro? Whatever it takes, right?" She forced a smile. "Maybe there's something on pay per view TV we could order that would help?"

Humiliation the only thing rising in him, he remarked in a pathetic whisper, "This is going from worse to train wreck."

"It's all my fault," She assured him. "I mean look at me…I look like a Bubonic Plague victim. Please don't feel bad, any man would have a performance problem under these circumstances."

"Oh god…now you've done it," He heaved a sigh as he rolled onto his side of the bed. "I told you to stop talking but nooooo."

"What?"

"You just uttered the ultimate mood killer, Sara!" Panic in his eyes, he glanced over at her. "You said the two words no guy ever wants to hear in reference to his ability in bed …performance problem. And to hear it three days before I get another year older is particularly bad timing." Covering his face with his hands he moaned, "I should be able to do this regardless of the circumstances!"

"Oh." She cringed. "Sorry." And just when she thought she couldn't make matters worse, one of her infamous volcanic sneezes erupted, catching her by surprise. "Could you um…grab the tissues from my nightstand?"

Nick and Carrie's Apartment
11:35 a.m.

Carrie opened the door with a sunny smile. "Hi, come on in. We're so glad you could make it."

"These are for you." Tawny extended a beautiful bouquet of mixed flowers. "Thanks for having us."

Nick finally appeared in the living room. "Hey, Greggo! And, Tawny…so nice to see you again." He swooped in for a warm embrace.

Greg, reciprocating the gesture, vigorously threw his arms around Nick's woman and said, "Thanks again for bailing me out of that mess. You really saved my ass."

To which Carrie replied, "Nicky…how about showing Tawny the view from the balcony?"

"Uh…" Nick knew he was selling out his buddy, but since Greg wasn't the one who kept him warm at night, he complied. "Yeah, come check out the view, Tawny."

Once they were alone, Carrie folded her arms across her chest and glared at Greg. "I sincerely hope that's the last time you need me to bail your ass out of a charge and save your job. Tawny is completely vulnerable and reliant on you! You need to get your act together and stop being irresponsible."

"Uh…" Her stare reminded him of his father's disapproving look and suddenly Greg went from thinking brunch would be fun, to wondering exactly how long brunch was going to last.

"You heard me! Look, the last thing Tawny needs in her life is another guy." Placing a hand on Greg's shoulder, she said, "She needs a man. You think you can grow up and be one? When you answer, include some action statements so I know you're not just feeding me words."

He swallowed hard, trying to manage a decent reply, "I uh…left Never-Never Land a few weeks ago and I think I'm making steady progress. I attended my first session of Anger Management class this morning, I have $500 set aside for a savings account for the baby, and I'm switching to Dayshift so I can be more accessible to Tawny and her emotional needs."

Smiling she commented, "Very good, Peter Pan. I'm impressed."

Returning her relaxed expression, he asked, "Does that mean I get to eat at the grown-up table?"

"Yeah…I'll even let you have a butter knife."

The Grissoms'
12:25 p.m.

Wearing his navy blue terrycloth robe, Gil sat in his favorite chair in the living room, lost in the latest edition of Forensic Science Monthly and enjoying the air conditioning.

"Hey," Sara cautiously greeted as she stepped into the room in her pink robe. "I was wondering where you went."

"Sorry." Closing the magazine, he forced a smile. "Just trying to get my mind off things for a little while."

Rocking on her heels, she announced, "I took a shower."

"You look better, Honey," He sweetly responded. "Do you feel any better?"

"I swiped one of your 800mg Motrin and I'm definitely less achy."

"Good."

"How do you feel?" She delicately prodded, hoping he was over his embarrassment and ready to give it another try.

"Unfortunately, about the same."

"Oh." With her hands in her robe pockets to keep warm, she meandered into the kitchen. "I'm uh…going to nibble on some crackers. Want anything?"

"No thanks." He returned to his article and fell silent.

Searching the pantry, Sara finally found the box of water crackers she was looking for, but when she opened the box, the bottom fell out and the crackers crashed on the tile floor. "Damn it!"

Tossing his magazine on the coffee table, Gil rushed into the kitchen. "Let me."

She handed him the broom from her hand. "I can't do anything right today."

"Shouldn't that be my line?" He quipped. When he finished sweeping the crackers he saw that Sara was tearing up. "Please don't cry," He pleaded while resting the broom against the back door of the kitchen so he could take her in his arms. "Come here."

"Why do we always have bad timing?" She sniffled into the softness of his robe while seeking comfort in his tight embrace. "I can't believe this. We were perfect three days ago. Why now?"

Kissing the top of her head, he tenderly said, "Look…there's no karmic significance to this. The facts are, you're very ill and I only got three hours sleep before shift last night. How about I put some fresh sheets on the bed and we both get some rest. When we wake we'll see how we feel and go from there, okay?"

"Okay," She agreed while fearing it wouldn't help matters.

Nick and Carrie's Apartment
12:46 p.m.

While the women were in the bedroom discussing wedding details, Nick stood at the sink rinsing dishes and passing them to Greg to load in the dishwasher. "I'm sorry about all the wedding talk, Buddy."

"No, it's cool, Carrie is excited," Greg replied while counting the minutes until he could snag Tawny and escape.

"I told her not to bring it up."

"She didn't," Greg reminded him. "Tawny did. She uh…loves that wedding planning show on TLC…"

"Wedding story." Nick turned off the water and dried his hands. "That show should be banned."

"Yeah." Shutting the door of the dishwasher, Greg sighed, "So you think you're ready for marriage?"

"Hell yeah." Opening the fridge he grabbed a couple of beers. "It's the wedding planning I now realize I'm totally unprepared to handle." Popping off the bottle tops he changed to a blissful tone. "But all the torturous discussions over centerpieces and table linens will be worth it when I see Carrie walking down that aisle smiling at me." He handed Greg a bottle. "I'll let you drink because you've got a designated driver, my friend."

Raising his bottle, he joked, "One of the few perks of accidentally getting your girlfriend pregnant."

"You never answered me, how did you manage that by the way?" Nick tilted his beer and took a sip. "Because you always chatted up responsibility and you had that weird matching the right condom to the right girl concept..."

"Just like they tell you in High School…one moment of passion can change your life. I'm the guy in the after school special."

"Are you sure you're the guy?" Nick realized his insensitivity the moment the question slipped out. "That was totally not cool. I'm sorry. I'm just worried about you…"

"Hey…it's okay. How can I blame you for wondering about her? I explicitly dished every detail about her to you before this all happened. Anyway, you're not the first to ask and I'm sure you won't be the last because I haven't told my dad about it yet." Pausing for a swig, Greg considered his answer. "But yeah…I'm absolutely certain the baby is mine. Just because she was a stripper doesn't mean she slept around."

"Of course not." Nick raised his hand. "Please forget I ever asked. Oh…speaking of asking. I need to officially ask you to be in the wedding. So how about it? Are you up for being a groomsman? No pressure, but I need an answer by the 20th according to the project management software printout Carrie gave me."

Happy to be included, he retorted, "Yeah, sure, I look great in a tux."

Nick broke the news, "She's going to insist you tone down the hair for photos."

After swallowing a gulp of beer, he chuckled, "I'll do anything Carrie asks because, she scares the crap out of me and she saved my ass….that's the perfect prescription for submission."

Nick tapped his bottle against Greg's. "Trust me, I know all about submission, Bro. And now that you're living with a woman, here's the most important phrase you need to know…yes, Dear."

Meanwhile in the bedroom, the women were lounging on the king-size bed surrounded by magazines and discussing honeymoon details…

"Nick will fall to his knees and do my bidding when he sees me in this slinky lingerie, don't you think?" Carrie pointed to the risqué photo.

"Definitely," Tawny wholeheartedly agreed.

"I just wish I had your abs." Carrie rolled on her back and patted her flat but undefined tummy. "How did you manage those?"

"I have a crunch routine I do daily and I take a Cardio Strip class at The Fitness Den five times a week. Of course, dancing six times a week was great exercise." Happiness flowing in her voice, she said, "But I'm not doing that ever again."

"Cardio Strip class?" Carrie repeated in a curious tone. "They have that at a regular gym?"

"Oh yeah…it's all the rage." Tawny explained while flipping through photos of wedding gowns, "Dancers take it as well as stay at home moms looking to punch things up in the bedroom. It's a hoot. Oh…but I know you think stripping degrades women."

Carrie winked. "Only if done in public for money, Sweetie. I'm all for consenting adults having fun in private."

"Oh."

Redirecting to her original question, Carrie asked, "So, if I did the class five times a week and followed your crunch routine daily, do you think I'd have a hard body by the honeymoon?"

"Definitely," Tawny assured her. "But more importantly, you'll be able to do this by the honeymoon." With catlike grace, she stretched out on the bed, extended her right leg to the ceiling and then brought it behind her ear. "Flexibility is always a nice surprise."

"Whoa." Carrie envisioned the look on Nick's face when she pulled that trick out of the bag on the honeymoon. "Nick will be shocked."

Giggling, Tawny told her stunned friend, "Yeah…and all men love a nice surprise."

The Grissoms'
3:49 p.m.

Upon waking forty-five minutes previously, Sara realized that when Gil eventually woke, if they utilized the same strategy, they would most like get the same results…or more appropriately, the same lack of results. Because not only did she feel, sound and look just as lousy as before, she now had him convinced he had plumbing problems.

But even though her head was clogged with congestion, Sara's crafty mind was still functioning at full capacity. Remembering that men are visual creatures, she decided the only way to get her husband's groove back would be to take away his sight. In place of visual enticement, and in an effort to block the severely undesirable qualities she was temporarily exuding, she decided to provide an overdose of alternative stimuli.

Moving slowly in her weakened state, Sara had managed to gather the proper supplies and take the necessary actions within twenty minutes. After that, she returned to the bed to lie in wait for her prey to stir from slumber. Knowing Gil's penchant for friskiness upon waking, she felt confident about her timing and when she saw him finally rousing, she poised to put the details of 'Operation Baby Making Desperation' into motion. As soon as he lifted his head, in one swift move, she cinched her red silk teddy over his eyes like a blindfold while whispering, "Shhhh…no talking."

Off balance by the shocking wake-up call and still half asleep, Gil lay on his back wondering what the hell was going on. Then the overpowering scent of sugar cookies invigorated him and he fully woke, realizing he was in bed and his wife must be nearby.

A second later, he felt ear buds jabbed in both his ears and the lusty score of La Habanera from Carmen quickly blocked out all external noise. Clearly, his wife had a plan. As the memorable music and delicious aroma of sugar cookies appealed to his mind and body, he felt the distinct texture of sinfully decadent La Perla lace against his skin as an unseen female invaded his personal space.

It was all a little overwhelming.

Five minutes later…

Ripping out the ear buds and tugging off the make shift blindfold, Gil's grin filled the room. "Oh good…it is you. I was pretty sure but…" He started laughing.

"But not worried enough to check until after." Thrilled with the triumph of her military operation and her husband's restored self-esteem, Sara smirked. "You naughty boy."

"Hey, as a soldier on a mission, it wasn't my place to question authority." Elated by their victory in the face of adversity, he kissed her forehead, "You're one hell of a military strategist, Sweetheart."

"Thank you…" She radiated with satisfaction as well as a raging fever. "Congratulations on your successful troop deployment. I always knew you had it in you." Running her fingers through his damp hair, she reminded him, "Remember, you can't retreat yet. I want you right where you are for five more minutes."

"Oh sure…now you say you want me." Rolling his eyes he feigned irritation. "Why didn't you say that earlier when I was struggling?"

"Sorry, I'm rushing on adrenaline right now."

"Do you think it worked?" He asked, while enjoying the elation in her eyes.

"Let's review what we have going in our favor. We know the timing is right according to science and Doris. Our position was optimal, I have a pillow stuffed under my hips to achieve the ideal angle and of course the most important factor…your exceptional performance."

Chuckling, he informed her, "Exceptional is a much better companion word to performance than your earlier selection."

"Oh! And let's not forget…I was taking Robitussin." Suddenly she remembered something else and burst out laughing. "Oh my god! You left the broom by the back door when you were done sweeping up the crackers!"

"You're worried about that right now?" He figured she was delirious from the fever. "Honey, I promise to put it away when…"

"No! Remember! I told you!" She choked on laughter and mucous as she explained, "The day Doris brought over the noodle kugel she said to keep a broom by the back door to sweep away the evil spirits of infertility!

"Oh…well…now I feel 100 percent certain we were successful!" He shook his head while falling deeper in love with his wife. "As a matter of fact, I'm sure one of the troops just captured your egg as I spoke."

"But just to be safe…" She patted his cheek. "We have to do this again tomorrow."

"Oh god." Shivering from the thought, he collapsed against her fevered body. "Not again."

"Uh…Honey…can't breathe," She wheezed. "We had a case like this once, remember? Retreat!"

Peeling himself off his wife, he moaned, "I really hope it works this month because I can't take this performance pressure much longer!"

Nick and Carrie's Apartment
4:30 p.m.

Knocking on the bedroom door, Nick moaned, "How much longer are you going to keep me locked out here, Baby? It's my day off. I spent a third of it at church, a third of it with Sanders and I'd like to spend the rest of it with you."

"Five more minutes!" Carrie yelled after halting her crunch routine. "I've got wedding dress stuff out and I don't want you to see."

"I know…I know…" He droned. "I have to wait and be surprised."

"Trust me…" She snickered while stretching. "…it will be worth it, Stokes!"

His shoulders low, he huffed back to the living room. "If she'd focus a fraction of her planning energy on making the honeymoon as spectacular as the wedding I'd be one satisfied newlywed."

The Grissoms'

5:33 p.m.

With Sara medicated, satisfied and sound asleep beside him, Gil lay in bed reading Forensic Science Monthly. Delighted by how things had turned out today, he was content to lay in bed next to her until he had to shower and dress for work. But the ring of the doorbell destroyed his relaxation plans.

Only wearing his blue robe, he hurried to the door while trying to figure out who could be stopping by on a Sunday evening. Through the peephole he got his answer…Doris was there holding a crock pot and smiling. "Uh…" He popped open the door a crack. "Hello…I'm uh…not really dressed for company."

"Relax," She chuckled, "I'm not here to kibitz, I'm only dropping off another batch of matzoh ball soup for your wife. Last night I watched her suck down a bowl like she hadn't eaten in weeks…which is entirely possible considering her toothpick thighs."

"Uh…" Relenting, he opened the door and bashfully claimed the crock pot. "Sara is sleeping, but I'll plug this in and make sure she has some when she wakes. Thank you."

Doris sensed the man's discomfort and exploited it. "Nice legs."

Mortified, he proclaimed, "You're killing me, Doris."

"You're cute when you're flustered." Pointing to the crock, she directed, "Put it on warm, not low because the chicken broth gets…"

"Chicken broth?" The two words stunned him. "Did you tell Sara this is made with chicken broth?"

"No." Perplexed, she inquired, "Why?"

"She's a vegetarian."

"Ah ha! Finally an explanation for her toothpick thighs! How funny…she said it was the best soup she ever tasted." Laughing, Doris looked nonplussed. "Ugh…I'm supposed to be kosher, but I crave a lobster every now and then and indulge on the sly. Tell Sara if she doesn't rat me out to my rabbi, I won't call PETA and report her." Waving, she strolled away. "Thanks for the skin show, Legs."

Eager to shut the door but having no available hand, Gil knocked it closed with his foot, realizing afterwards that its slam might wake Sara.

Padding down the hall, he carried the pot of meat-based soup into the kitchen and placed it on the island. Lifting the lid, he took a sniff. His appetite igniting, a second later he had a bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other.

"Were you talking to someone at the door?" Sara asked as she appeared in the kitchen rubbing her eyes.

Feeling bad, he said, "I'm sorry, I shut the door too hard. I was carrying the soup and didn't have a free hand."

"It's the Soup!" Sara was drawn to the pot like a magnet to metal. "That stuff is delicious!"

"Honey…" He cringed as he saw her salivating. "About the soup…"

"Yes, I'll share." Smiling, she took a seat at the counter. "You deserve it after…"

"It's chicken soup."

"Oh." Her hand raced to her mouth. "I guess I didn't smell it because of my blocked nose."

"Sorry." Gently, he placed the bowl and spoon on the counter. "Do you mind if I…"

"No, go ahead." She watched him reach for the ladle and pour the steaming soup into the bowl. "I don't believe this."

"What?" He lowered his spoon. "Oh no…was this some kind of test? Was I not supposed to eat the soup even though you said I could?"

"No!" She laughed at his interpretation. "I'm craving the soup."

"Here we go," He chuckled, recalling the morning after in Colorado Springs when she was certain they conceived.

"The zygote wants soup!" Sliding the bowl away from him, she smiled. "Spoon please."

Shaking his head, he forked it over. "So the zygote isn't a lacto-ovo-pesco vegetarian, like you? The zygote is okay with chicken?"

Practicing avoidance, she remarked, "Speaking of chickens…did you do what I asked you to do? Remember, it's my Scrabble reward from my winning game in Tahoe so you have to comply."

"Not yet." Knowing she wasn't going to drop it, he walked over and picked up the cordless phone. "I'm going to take this in my office and let you enjoy your chicken soup in private."

"It's not me, it's the zygote enjoying it!" She shouted in between gulps of golden broth.

When he reached his office, Grissom took a seat, lifted the phone and punched in the phone number as it was written on a slip of paper sitting on his desk.

The operator answered quickly, "Mandalay Bay, how may I direct your call?"

"Room 1272…Ron Grissom."

"One moment while I transfer you."

Tapping his fingers on the arm of his executive chair he closed his eyes.

"Hello."

His eyes jerked open. "Uh…it's Gil."

"This is a nice surprise."

"I was uh…I was wondering, how much longer are you going to be in town?" Part of him wanted the answer to be I'm checking out today, while another part hoped it wasn't so.

"Well…I'm starting to get attached to this dry heat in Vegas. The humidity in Florida this time of year is brutal."

"Remember…I don't enjoy sales pitches."

A light chuckle drifted through the phone. "If you ever went to Florida in August you'd know I wasn't bullshitting! I'm never there in August. Anyway, I told you the last time you asked that I'd hang around waiting to see if you'd call. Now look what you've done…you've reinforced the behavior and I'll hang around some more. So I don't know how much longer."

Running his hand over his forehead, he sighed, "Sara has asked me to extend an invitation for dinner. Nothing fancy, just the three of us at the house."

"So you worked everything out."

"Yes."

"I'm happy to hear it." He breathed a sigh of relief. "Tell Sara I'd love to come to dinner."

"She'll be pleased." He wished he could say the same but his emotions were mixed.

"Gil, you didn't say what day or time."

After a deep breath, he replied, "Wednesday…six o'clock."

"But that's your…"

"I know. See you then." Ending the call, he exhaled sharply.

The story continues in:Birthday Boys - the 5th installment in the Feasibility Study series.

Teasers for the Birthday Boysseries: Gil and Nick get a little older, a little wiser and a lot happier. Someone comes to Vegas with a little surprise. And if you wanted to know more about Greg, this is a good place to start.

Thanks,

Maggs