Feasibility Study
Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT

Chapter 96: Getting It Back – Part 7

August 25, 2005 (Day 125)
Dr. Myers' Waiting Room
3:50 p.m.

After watching Greg stare at a patient background information form for five minutes, Grissom cleared his throat and asked, "You do realize you're supposed to complete that before you see the doctor, right?"

"These are tough questions," he replied in a panic. "I don't want to write the answers on paper. Writing them on paper makes it seem so…"

"True?"

"Well…yeah." Greg clutched the pen tighter.

Grissom smiled at the newbie. "Denial is much easier when there's no documentation."

"I find it hard to believe that you, Mr. No Share, filled one of these out with honest answers."

"My marriage was on the line," Grissom informed him. "I made a promise to Sara that I would work on my issues and that form was part of keeping the promise. I would have filled out anything they handed me." Staring him down he asked, "Did you promise anything to Tawny?"

Greg uncapped the pen and started writing. "You swear this shrink isn't a pill pusher?"

"She's never pushed pills on me."

Greg kept jotting. "But you're just a social illiterate thanks to an overbearing mother and growing up in a broken home. They don't medicate people for that. One look at my history…at this Suicidal Depressive

label I'm inking on this page, and she's whipping out the prescription pad. Then it's bye-bye Greg as you know him. Once my brain is on auto-pilot again, I won't be able to do my job adequately and I won't be the guy Tawny fell in love with, which means…"

"You're thirty, not thirteen. She can't make you take pills and neither can your mother." Grissom leaned in closer so the person sharing the room waiting to see Dr. Myers' partner wouldn't hear the conversation. "Look…I was just as tense as you when I was here for the first time. You know me, Greg. I don't like strangers checking out my office, do you really think I was comfortable having one check out my head? She's not invasive, she's not pushy. I actually enjoyed my last session. Sara loves coming here and so does Tawny. So, how about giving it a chance before you jump to conclusions? Think of it like a case file…you have no evidence yet, so you can't possibly have an opinion."

Greg looked up at him. "I hate it when you're right."

"You're in good company, so does Sara." Grissom tapped his watch. "Keep writing because your appointment is in five minutes."

"Yes, Sir." He picked up the pace.

Upping the levity Grissom joked, "If you're a good boy at the doctor I'll take you out for ice cream afterwards."

"Marble Slab?"

"Sure."

"Can I get an unlimited number of mix-ins?"

"Yes, because it will take longer for you to eat it, which means you'll talk less."

Focusing on the form he grinned. "Thanks."

Nick's Xterra
3:55 p.m.

After sitting quietly in the passenger seat while Carrie drove to Phoenix, Nick lowered the radio and remarked, "I can't thank you enough for this surprise, Sweetheart, and not just because I love attending ballgames…but for going out of your way to make me happy."

"It's the least I could do after you let dozens of deer maul you for my benefit." Watching the road she smiled. "That's what marriage is about, right…give and take? You did something special for me and now it's my turn."

"You think we'll be good at it…marriage?"

"No," she teased. "I think we'll be great at it…with practice. To back up my declaration I'll cite our outstanding record of working through things thus far." She glanced over momentarily to check his demeanor and was pleased to see him relaxed. "Another good sign is our ever increasing ability to ooze vulnerability and lean on one another in times of need. So yeah…I think we're well on our way to building a relationship that lasts a lifetime."

The similarity between what his fiancée just said, and his mother counseled earlier, brought a smile to his face. "I think so too." After a few minutes of silence Nick announced, "I'm going to need your help with something next week."

"What's that?"

Feeling comfortable, he shared his plan. "When I was talking to my mom earlier I made a decision. Since my father is away on an annual fishing trip through next week and she doesn't have anything going on, I invited her to Vegas to spend time with me on my days off."

Carrie raised a brow, surprised to hear it since his mom had only been out twice the whole time he'd lived in Vegas.

"Whenever I go home to Dallas it's a circus with my sisters and all my nieces and nephews. Not that I'm ungrateful they're happy to see me." As he spoke he looked out the window and at the scenery zipping by. "But with all that going on, my mom and I never get to spend any time alone when I'm there. So, I figured, if I uh…wanted to sit down and really talk to her about something significant it would be best to bring her out to Vegas."

Stunned he was moving so quickly she asked, "Are you sure you're ready?"

"I'm not worried about me," Nick confessed. "I'm worried about her. She'll be devastated." After gnawing on his bottom lip for a moment he continued, "Finding out it happened will be bad enough but, I know my mother…she'll be crushed that she didn't figure it out and she'll be furious that someone got away with hurting one of her kids."

"Unfortunately I have to agree with you there." Carrie's voice turned serious. "It's no secret that my dad lost his mind when he found out about my abuse. Any responsible parent takes it hard and potentially never gets over that feeling of letting their child down. I mean look at my dad's obsession with our wedding. That's all about residual guilt. As much as I'm into planning this huge shindig I could just as easily get caught up planning a smaller, less expensive affair, but he wants me to be princess for a day because it will make him feel better."

"I got a feeling that was going on."

Feeling guilty herself she admitted, "I know Paul and Wendy are strapped for cash since they moved into the newer, bigger house in March. That's why Paul took that sales job that has him traveling half the month and keeping him away from home. It's obvious it's bugging him that my dad is dropping fifty grand on the wedding, while he's struggling to cover his mortgage and the expenses of raising four kids. I'd like to cut the budget in half and have him give twenty-five grand to Paul to lower his mortgage payment, but he'll never go for it…he'll just somehow feel like he's letting me down again."

When I was interrogating Brittany Thomas's father he said something that shook me deep." Recalling the pain in the man's eyes and voice, Nick told her, "I'll never forget the moment when he asked…do you think she screamed for me to help her? Do you think she asked 'where's my daddy?' when the killer had her?" Glancing over at Carrie he whispered, "What do I do when my mom asks if she let me down?"

Taking one hand off the wheel she reached over and gave his hand a squeeze. "You tell her the truth, Nicky. Because healing only happens if you're honest."

Dr. Myers' Office
4:01 p.m.

Standing in the center of her office, Dr. Myers, dressed in a lime green and white hounds tooth suit, smiled warmly. "Greg, while you make yourself comfortable, I'm going to take a moment and review your paperwork. Normally I'd have you complete it ahead of time and be prepared to start right away. However, since you are taking Gil's appointment and this was last minute, I'll have to do it this way. Forgive the impropriety."

"Hey…take your time." Gravitating toward the bookshelves in the back of the room he sighed heavily. "Take the whole hour if you want."

"Since I've been doing this for almost thirty years, I'm a little faster than that." Chuckling, she took a seat at her desk and donned her snazzy black-framed reading glasses.

After surveying the bookshelves for a few minutes, he saw one that intrigued him. Just as he was about to pull it, he froze. "No."

"What's the matter?" Dr. Myers lowered her glasses and noted that Greg was lurking at the shelves just like Gil when he first started coming to see her.

Facing her he explained, "I pick a book and you make a judgment about my issues based on what I pick."

"You think I'm that much of a trickster, huh?"

"I know how these places work." Glancing around he eyed everything like a prop. "Where I sit, how I sit, what I say, what I don't say…I'm under the microscope from the second I walk in here and you're looking for meaning in everything."

"Busted!" She tossed her glasses and reclined in her chair, excited to have a challenging patient who obviously had a negative experience with therapy in the past. "Since you know all my tricks there's no point in having a session so, how do you want to kill the hour? Because I'll feel guilty taking your hard-earned money if I don't do something."

Crossing the room he announced, "I heard from Sara that you have a drawer full of candy."

"I do." She opened up the right drawer. "Did she tell you the system? If you can't verbalize your mood, you pick the candy that signifies it." Spreading out the five varieties she goaded, "So…what's your mood? Let me know if you need more options." When she saw him take all five pieces and plop in a chair she grinned. "Clever."

"No…" Unwrapping the Snickers he countered, "…I'm just hungry."

"Is this how you handled your previous therapist?" Lifting his paperwork she glanced at the dates on the form. "You saw Dr. Reynolds until you were fifteen. I'm sensing it wasn't a positive experience for you."

"No, it wasn't…but he didn't have candy." Next he selected the dark chocolate bar. "Ooh! I'm eating the dark chocolate after the Snickers…what does that mean?"

Removing her glasses and leaving the paperwork behind, Dr. Myers moved from around her desk and took a seat in the chair next to her patient. "What didn't you like about Dr. Reynolds?"

"That'll fill an hour."

"I had a feeling it might." Settling in she prompted, "What's the worst thing he did to you?"

Crumbling the candy bar wrapper he posed a question. "If a boy diagnosed as a suicidal depressive was suddenly stranded on an uninhabited desert island without his medication, and a week later he was in the best mood in years what would that tell you?"

Dr. Myers pondered the question and the person asking it for a moment, then replied, "It would tell me that the boy didn't need medication, what he needed was a break from people who didn't get him. That he was exhausted from trying to fit into society and was happy to be somewhere where he could just be himself and relax. That for once he wasn't being ridiculed for being different and it felt wonderful."

"Very good, Dr. Myers." Greg opened a bag of M&Ms and offered her some.

Taking the candy she asked, "How did Dr. Reynolds answer the question?"

"He said the desert island was a metaphor for death, told my mom that I might attempt to off myself again, and upped my dosage."

For a moment they locked eyes and then Dr. Myers remarked, "Obviously Dr. Reynolds is not the type of person who dons a pair of headphones, locks himself in the bathroom and blasts music to tune out the world and all the idiots in it for a few precious moments every day."

"What do you listen to?"

Smiling she reminded him, "Doctor patient confidentiality is working two ways here, okay?"

"Sure."

"I'm fifty-six and most people think I'm conservative so, I'm little shy about confessing this for fear of my professional reputation but…I'll make an exception for you because I can tell by the way you wear your hair you're not a judgmental person." Chuckling she glanced over her shoulder for effect then whispered, "Prince."

"HA!" Collapsing back in his chair he exclaimed, "Tawny told you I love Prince."

"Absolutely not." Heading for a cabinet she couldn't wait to prove him wrong. "Since you're a criminalist I know you need evidence in order to believe something's true." Opening the cabinet she produced three Prince CDs.

Still not convinced he cryptically sang, "Dream if you can a courtyard…"

"An ocean of violets in bloom," She quickly replied with the next piece of the lyric. "Nice voice. Now try something a little less top forty."

Cracking up he stared at the woman. "I feel like a spy trying to determine if you're on my side."

"Oh come on…that's exactly what you're doing, Greg."

After quieting his laughter he sang, "In France a skinny man died of a disease with a little name…"

"By chance his girlfriend came across a needle and soon she did the same."

Tossing a bag of Skittles on her desk he said, "I don't really like those. Can I trade for another dark chocolate…no reference to mood intended or implied, I'm really hungry and it's my favorite."

Holding the candy bar at bay she prodded, "First, tell me, what book were you selecting?"

"Hamlet."

"Oh boy." Chuckling she handed over the candy. "Hamlet…a sensitive, gifted man with manic tendencies and an unhealthy attachment to his mother. When faced with an overload of reality, Hamlet breaks down and ultimately self destructs." Taking a seat at her desk she caught her patient's eyes. "I don't have a copy of Hamlet in my office, Greg."

"So, what does that tell you, Doc?" He opened his next chocolate treat and started chomping.

"That you're well read. That you like cutting to the chase." Settling back in her chair she remarked, "And that you know exactly who you are, what your issues are and what could happen if you don't get a grip, which puts you way ahead of the curve because most people walk through my door without knowing any of that."

"What did Grissom say about me when he called you?"

"He told me about what happened on the job, why you were almost arrested last night and a quick overview of some of the major stressors in your life." Picking up her pen she swiveled in her chair. "Of course I know more about you than that, but I can't tell you what is discussed in Tawny's sessions."

After swallowing the last bite of chocolate he declared, "I don't think medication is the answer."

"Oh, I agree." She nodded vehemently. "Including self-medication. That's a nice way of saying no more booze when you're tense. Alcohol is a depressant and it's best not to rock the boat when it's already sailing on choppy waters if you get my drift."

"Nice imagery."

"I'm well read too."

"I already made that promise to Tawny." Shifting uncomfortably he admitted, "When I was wasted last night, I uh…yelled at her…cursed her out actually. I didn't remember any of it…which scares the crap out of me. The last thing I ever want to do is cause her pain. Not after what she's been through. That's the reason I agreed to come here. That…and because I heard about the candy."

Noticing how fidgety he was getting she commented, "If all that chocolate has you jittery, feel free to walk around the room. There is no normal way of doing things in here. Do it your way and do it differently every time if you'd like."

Jumping up he walked around and grabbed the back of the chair. "Do you think you can help me get a grip?"

"I really do," She answered without hesitation while enjoying the subconscious symbolism of him grabbing the chair while hoping to get a grip. "I can if you're willing to work at it, Greg. I can't help you if you come in here playing games. You're highly intelligent and I know you'd amuse me, but there are better uses of my time."

"No medication. No games."

"So where do you want to start?" Smiling, she checked her watch. "You've got thirty minutes and I'm listening."

The Blakes
4:10 p.m.

Sitting on the couch, Wendy sniffled into a tissue. "Thanks so much for listening to me carry on." Sara and Tawny were excellent listeners and she was grateful to have two shoulders to lean on. "I think holding it together in front of Sean just made me more emotional once I could safely let it out. It was so eerie how much the dead woman reminded me of my sister. It doesn't help that I've been so tense lately with Paul traveling so much and then this whole thing with McKenna being targeted. I've spared him all that because I want him to focus on his job. He's under so much pressure. I'm trying to keep things calm at home so he doesn't have that burden as well."

Sara kindly offered, "Are you sure I can't get you something from the kitchen?"

"No, I'm fine now."

Tawny empathetically said, "I know how emotions can sneak up on you. Sometimes, even now, if I see a girl with her dad I get blindsided by my feelings of loss over my dad. It's normal…or so Dr. Myers says anyway."

"Now that I've purged all that emotion, I really just want to cheer up and move on." With Ryan and Sean occupied in their rooms, Ashley napping and McKenna asleep on the floor in front of the TV, Wendy suggested, "Let's talk babies. It's impossible to be melancholy when talking babies."

"I know." Sara pointed to the bookshelf. "How about showing us your scrapbooks? We were going to be nosy and look at them earlier but, at the last minute it felt too intrusive."

"Nonsense." She stood to fetch one in particular. "Before you get to baby scrapbooking though, you need to do this. I showed it to Carrie and she's making one. Your children will love looking at it with you." Holding the binder she returned to the couch. "It's a scrapbook of Paul and me. Starting with a couple of pages about each of us growing up, and then it switches to us dating, getting married, and continues to our first pregnancy. The kids call it the Mommy and Daddy storybook."

"Gil and I only have one photo together…our wedding picture. That's it." Sara watched intently as Wendy cracked open the book. "And I only have a few pictures from when I was a child. Same with Gil."

"A few is all it takes."

Tawny's eyes lit. "I love this concept! But I just realized that Greg and I don't have a single photo together. Sara…you'll have to take some of us and I'll take some of you and Gil."

"He'll love that…not." Sara pointed to the details written in Wendy's book. "You wrote out where you went to dinner on your first date and what you ate?"

"I'm a sap, what can I say?" She chuckled heartily. "I know you're a serious girl, Sara, but don't deny it…you remember everything about your first date with Gil, don't you?"

Tawny bubbled with enthusiasm. "Greg told me you and Gil finally hooked up after five years, but I've never heard date details."

"We never discussed our personal life back then." Resting against the back of the couch Sara sighed, "Even though it was only eleven months ago, it seems like an eternity. Here's what happened, after the whole fiasco in Tahoe with Mike Rodgers drugging and almost killing me, Gil and I almost went our separate ways." A smile crested on her face. "But at the last minute, Gil came to my apartment asking for a chance at a relationship and even though I thought I shouldn't…I said yes."

"A good decision in hindsight," Wendy commented as she noted the glow on Sara's cheeks.

"Definitely."

"So what was your first date?" Tawny prodded hoping for details.

"Well…we went out to lunch right after we agreed to see each other but technically, since we didn't call it a date, I'd have to say our first real planned date was the next night. Gil invited me over for a home cooked meal…"

Pacing outside the townhouse door Sara anxiously waited for Grissom to answer. Even though there was no time to do anything about it, she obsessively thought…am I wearing the right clothes, did I bring the right wine, should we have gone out rather than stay in?

Before she could address any of her concerns, the door opened. "Hi!" She blurted, happy to see him smiling. So it wasn't a dream after all. They really did get together yesterday and he really had asked her over this evening.

"Hi."

Since he was dressed casually in a pair of black trousers and a rust-colored long sleeve button down, she felt comfortable with her choice of black pants and a violet blouse. "Hi." She said for the second time while shifting uncomfortably on her feet. After a minute she wondered if he was ever going to get around to asking her in. It was very reminiscent of her disastrous last visit when she brought him a bug to inspect and ended up leaving in tears when he told her a relationship would never happen. But that was the past she quickly reminded herself. This was a new day…a new beginning.

"I brought wine," She blurted in an effort to jar his memory about why she was here.

"Great."

Deciding he was having a socially dysfunctional moment, she opted for a more direct approach. "If you ask me to come inside, we could open the bottle and have some."

"Oh." Backing up he rambled all the things he knew he was supposed to say. "Forgive me I was…I…come in. Welcome. You look great. I'm so glad you came. Make yourself at home."

Stepping inside she smiled anxiously. "Thanks." Now what! She panicked. They kissed twice yesterday. Does that mean they should kiss upon greeting today? Nervously she eyed his lips then scolded herself. Don't stare at his mouth he'll assume you want to kiss him. But I do, she countered. But does he want to kiss me?

Standing quietly in the dimly lit hall they stared at everything but each other.

Finally Sara broke the silence. "This is awkward."

"Yes." Grissom immediately concurred. "But is it awkward for you for the same reason it's awkward for me?"

"Well, if I knew the answer to that I wouldn't feel awkward at all."

"Right."

The silence returned.

"Let's open the wine," He suggested a minute later.

"Good thinking." Sara followed him down the hall and into the kitchen. "I bought white…assuming we weren't having beef."

The joke put the first crack in the ice.

"No, we're having Pasta Alfredo and salad."

"Thank you." She handed over the bottle. "For inviting me and for making something I'd enjoy."

Logically he responded, "Well, what would be the point of having you over and making something you'd detest?"

"Let's open the wine."

"Right." He ferreted through a drawer for an opener. "Sorry for the delay…I don't usually drink wine at home. I don't usually entertain."

"Me either." Setting her purse on the counter she explained, "I don't drink wine at home often either. And I don't entertain people at home much…ever really. Yeah…I usually drink beer and hang out at home alone." Shaking her head she cringed. "Could that sound any more pathetic?"

Without stopping his search he replied, "I usually drink whisky and hang out at home with my bugs."

"You win."

"Found it!" He produced the opener proudly.

"Thank god." Covering her mouth she held back her laughter. "Because it's obvious that we both really need a drink."

"My pulse has to be nearly ninety."

"Then let me open the bottle." Reaching out she wrapped her hand around its neck and in the process overlapped his fingers. "There's that familiar feeling."

Neither one removed their hand.

"What familiar feeling?" Grissom asked after swallowing the lump in his throat.

"Whenever we were working together and we accidentally touched it set off this feeling." Staring into his eyes she confessed, "Butterflies actually…in my stomach."

"Butterflies." A scant smile appeared on his face.

"Yes." She moved closer, still holding the bottle and increasing the overlap of their hands. "Every time I would get this close to you, they'd come on strong."

"I know what you mean." He stammered, "I uh…like that time in the ladies room at Club Rage a couple of weeks ago when we were looking at the note together."

"I wanted you to kiss me," She shyly admitted.

"And I wanted to kiss you."

"But you didn't." She gently placed her other hand on the bottle, covering his hand completely.

"We weren't together and we were working," He explained while inching closer to her lips.

"We're not working now." She felt the gravitational pull of his kiss and eagerly anticipated the delicious collision. "And we're together now, aren't we?"

"Yes." Lifting his free hand he placed it delicately on her cheek "Yes, we are."

"So there's no reason we shouldn't kiss."

"None," He answered while grazing his lips over hers.

"Then, what are we waiting…" Her words were halted when he claimed her mouth. This kiss more divine than the first two combined, she moaned into his mouth. Then, removing her hands from the bottle, she raced them around his waist, pulling him deeper into the kiss and assuring him it wasn't only welcomed, but demanded.

Without breaking the kiss he safely stowed the wine on the counter. Both hands free, he caressed her…savoring every inch of the body he had longed to touch over the years. "Sara…"

"Yes?" If his question was in reference to taking her right there in the kitchen she was ready to reply in the affirmative.

"Maybe we should have gone out to dinner," He breathed in her ear while frantically running his hands over her curves.

"No…" she panted from the passion igniting between them. "I prefer the intimacy of dining in."

"Oh, good…me too."

Their smiles met.

"Grissom, I…"

The sound of his pager interrupted her delirious declaration.

Lowering his head he groaned. "I'm primary back up tonight."

"Maybe it's nothing…just a quick question." Disappointed she adjusted her blouse. "Check and see."

Reluctantly he walked over and picked up his pager. Devastated he announced, "I need to go."

"We'll save the wine for another day." Smiling she walked over and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "We've waited this long. Another day or week won't kill us. It will only make it better."

Marble Slab Creamery
5:11 p.m.

"Feeling better, Greg?" Grissom asked while watching him attack the overstuffed waffle cone with zeal.

On their way to Grissom's car he cheerily responded, "I seriously do feel better."

"I told you she was good."

"She reminds me of my mom."

Grissom burst out laughing. "What would Freud say about that?"

"Who cares what that wackjob would say?" He continued to enjoy his cold treat without worrying about Freudian implications. "Do I still have to go to the PEAP counselor if I'm seeing Dr. Myers?"

"Your supervisor can approve you seeing Dr. Myers in lieu of the PEAP counselor, but you'll have to pay for it yourself instead of billing the county."

Greg chuckled. "Okay then, as soon as my supervisor recovers from his nervous breakdown I'll talk to him about my mental health recovery plan."

"Maybe it's contagious."

"I don't think it's coincidence."

"What do you mean?" Grissom unlocked the car. "Don't drip any of that ice cream on my leather seat."

"Yes, Dad." Greg grumbled while slipping into the car. "You, me…Nick, we've all been mentally rocky since shacking up with women for the first time."

"You think our women are toxic?"

"No." He laughed. "Although they're all high maintenance in their own special ways, not we're low maintenance guys. No, I think we're all guys who never had serious relationships and are trying to deal with them for the first time. It's not an easy adjustment, and it's making us a bit edgy."

"In a lot of ways, it's definitely more difficult living with someone than alone."

"Except for sex," He chuckled heartily. "That's a lot easier for me now that I'm living with a woman."

"I have to agree with you there. The pleasures of living with a woman far outweigh the traumas."

Greg polished off his cone and wiped his sticky hands on his jeans.

"Slob." Grissom eyed him with disdain. "I'm glad I don't live with you."

"I forgot to grab napkins, would you have preferred I used your leather seats?"

Sighing, Grissom started the car.

"Yes, the sex is much better now that I'm in a serious relationship. The biggest change…its regular availability." Greg laughed, feeling chipper and picking up the conversation where it left off before getting yelled at for using his pants as a napkin. "I'm sure it's not the primary reason but, maybe that's one of the reasons Nick's tenser?" Greg reclined his seat pondering his theory. "Nick got all the burdens of living with a woman, but the sex declined. Think about it, Carrie is a serious career woman with a heavy load of emotional baggage, he probably gets less sex and less adventurous sex with her than he did when he was sleeping with half the women in Clark County."

While he didn't want to be discussing the subject, Grissom was undeniable intrigued by the theory.

"Don't you see?" Greg informed the curious man. "For us geeky mortals, the relationship sex was a huge improvement, and it balances out the other negative stuff like getting yelled at for leaving our shoes in the middle of the room."

Grissom backed the car out of the parking lot asking, "You get that too, huh?"

"All the time. When I lived alone I left them everywhere so I just could step into a pair and hit the road."

"What about taking too long on the john?" Grissom curiously inquired. "That seems to bug Sara."

"No, I'm too hyper to spend quality time there."

"Ah."

"Maybe you should add some fiber to your diet," Greg casually suggested. "My mom sprinkles wheat germ on my dad's cereal for that very reason."

Grissom huffed, "And now we've crossed the line."

Closing his eyes Greg yawned. "Here comes the sugar crash from all that candy. I know you'll be crushed, but I don't feel like talking anymore. I'm gonna grab a power nap."

Turning on his favorite classical radio station Grissom breathed a sigh of relief. "Sleep well."

Bank One Ballpark
5:15 p.m.

A little tired from the drive, Carrie opted to stay behind in the fantastic second row, third base line seats she had acquired for a hefty price, while Nick shopped for a new baseball cap. Early for the 6:05 game, Carrie watched the groundskeepers prep the field and used the binoculars she had grabbed from Nick's truck to view the details of the stadium as it filled.

"Look what I have for you, Darlin'," Nick cheerily announced upon returning. "You've only dreamed of them until now."

Lowering the binoculars she glanced up and saw him dangling a bag of crunchy Cheetos. "HA!" When they were showering earlier she had given him a quick overview of her Cheetos dream. Snatching the bag, she opened them like a giddy school girl.

"I got you some iced tea too." He placed the cup in the holder and took a seat.

"Thank you. I like your cap." It was black with the home team's logo. "And I love my Cheetos. When you dozed off on the drive down I analyzed the dream. Wanna hear it?"

"Here we go." After sipping the iced tea he anxiously remarked, "Yes, I can't wait to hear this." She had interpreted a few of his dreams and it was always amusing, as well as clear that Carrie spent many years in therapy.

Halting her crunching she began the detailed explanation. "In my dream you return from your hike and I'm determined to successfully complete position four. You stink, but it doesn't deter me. Normally, because of my sensitive nose, it would be a deal breaker. That signifies that nothing was going to get in the way of my goal. You very crudely order me against the wall snapping your fingers and I happily comply."

"I'd never seriously do that." Reaching over he stole a few Cheetos. "Why would you dream that?"

"Obviously it symbolized my feelings that you were still ultimately in control of our sex life because you have the experience. My eagerness represents my desire to acquire more sexual knowledge so one day we can be sexual equals."

"Ah." He glanced around to make sure the seats behind them were still empty.

"Suddenly, as I'm there waiting for you to act, I notice you scarfing a jumbo bag of Cheetos…which you wouldn't normally do." She laughed lightly. "I'm totally frustrated that you're eating snacks rather than having your way with me. But it clearly shows that I think you would do anything…even eat horrible high fat carbs…to avoid giving me this 'wild sex against the wall fantasy' I need. You denying me frustrates me, because you're not giving me something that you've given to other women. Ever since Tawny told me during the chat that you've done The Peg with plenty of women, it's been in my head."

In a low voice he remarked, "But I've given you more and shared with you more, why did that one thing bother you so much?"

"It's obvious in the dream that I'm annoyed because you still think I'm too delicate. It reinforces my damaged goods vulnerability. My jealousy of the other women isn't rooted in them being with you, it's about me being jealous that you didn't look at them with the same limitations. Once again I'm different, when all I want to be is normal." Forging on with the explanation she said, "Anyway, it all manifests when I yell at you to stop eating the freakin' Cheetos because I'm really ready." Stuffing a Cheeto in his mouth she whispered, "My statement reflects my subconscious readiness to be your sexual partner…an equal…instead of a timid lover you're constantly concerned you'll offend."

Reaching into the bag he grabbed a Cheeto and popped it in her mouth. "Darlin', you proved that back in the bathroom of the hotel, trust me. I'm over it."

"Good." After swallowing the snack she admitted, "I realize now that The Peg wasn't just about acquiring number four. It was about me finally being just one of the girls, instead of the damaged girl with the sexual baggage. Now that we're past that, I feel great…unburdened." She chuckled while glancing around to see if anyone was listening. "The freedom feels terrific, but I'm still cracking up that the actual physical peg sex wasn't half as much fun as I thought it would be."

"Yeah…I have a drastically different interpretation of that part." Grinning, he lifted the iced tea out of its holder. "I shouldn't have said that."

Eyeing his grandiose smile she goaded, "Tell me, future husband who can share anything with me. Be brutally honest."

"I knew you were going to say that." Cringing he replaced the cup in its holder and wished people would show up so they could stop talking. "I admit it was the first time I never thought about your baggage. And because I wasn't thinking about that…and because you were so damn hot standing there looking all sexy-pouty wearing those boots and that wet t-shirt, it was the first time I just…" In a nervous laugh he confessed, "How can I say this? Uh…let's just say it was the first time I ever took care of business very quickly and directly without connecting with you emotionally."

Blushing to a deep red Carrie nodded. "Got it."

"And for me…it was totally hot and the best sex I've ever had." Quickly he clarified, "The best sex…not to be confused with making love. Which, since I know you're wondering, the best lovemaking was definitely the night after the party when you rocked my world." Leaning in he whispered in her ear, "After that, would be our first time together and then the rest of that list is exclusively made up of all the other times we've been together because you're the only woman I've ever loved, Sweetheart."

Feeling his kiss on her cheek Carrie smiled. "My list is exactly the same." After staring at each other for a moment she remarked, "Just so we're clear…even though The Peg wasn't my favorite, it's not banned. Now that I know what to expect I can relax a little more the next time. Also, I'm more than game to let you…" Covering her mouth she verified they were still alone. "…to let you, in any position you choose, be very quick, direct and unemotionally connected when we're in the mood for that sort of thing." Cracking up she joked, "Someone should really come up with one word describing that type of rowdy sex, because it's a mouthful to say."

"You're killin' me here, Darlin'. This is a major league ballpark and you're wanting to talk candidly about…"

"Sorry." She hid her grin behind the Cheetos bag.

"Okay, why not. We've come this far." Bringing her ringed hand to his mouth he brushed a kiss over it. "Just so we're clear, I don't always want to…uh…I can't condense it into one word and say it out loud to you, but you know what I mean."

"Ravage me," She coyly suggested. "It's very romance novel and not at all nasty sounding. Try it out."

"You really are a piece of work." His smile spread into a grin. "Okay, here's what I'm honestly thinkin'. I don't always want to…ravage you…because I enjoy making love to you. However, I will no longer deny I enjoy…ravaging." He couldn't stop the light laugh resulting from the use of the word. "Apparently I was missing a good ravage every now and then. Particularly when under duress because…ravaging…was one of my coping mechanisms. I think I began to realize that in the pool house…you realized it too. I was conflicted, but now, after ravaging you today, and this extremely uncomfortable but understandably necessary discussion, I'm no longer conflicted. You're fine with being ravaged, and because I know that, I will not have a problem ravaging you in the future should a mutually agreeable mood to ravage strike." Now that it was out there, he looked for confirmation. "How's was that for open and honest communication, future wife?"

Highly impressed with his candor she clapped. "Bravo."

"Thank you." Cracking a huge smile he said, "The bottom line is…now we have more options."

"Ooh there's that dirty word…options."

"My god I love you." Cupping her face he stole a kiss then relaxed in his seat, pulling his ball cap a little lower. "Okay, so that's one less thing to worry about." Shaking his head Nick sighed, "Although I still can not believe we're intimately discussing our sex life in a major league ballpark. That's just…wrong."

"You're comfortable around sports, so it's a good place for an open and honest talk. Non-traditional therapy works for us." Giggling she said, "And really, playing baseball is used metaphorically for sex all the time, so it's not that much of a stretch."

"I suppose." Taking the bag of Cheetos he laughed. "All that honest talk about ravaging has made me hungry."

"Me too." She shook with laughter. "What would Freud say about me craving a hot dog right now?"

The Blakes
5:41 p.m.

Sitting in the kitchen discussing Sunday's party with Sara and Wendy, Tawny inquired, "What do you serve at vegetarian barbeque? Not to sound ignorant but, in Kansas barbeques were all about the meat. People came drooling for my daddy's honey-basted ribs and they'd bring all the sides…cornbread, beans, coleslaw, you name it. I have a few pictures at home I can show you some time." In a bittersweet voice she said, "Those parties were so much fun. I wonder if Greg knows how to barbeque so we can do that sort of thing with our kids?"

Sara rested a hand on her friend's shoulder. "If he doesn't, Gil and Nick can teach him. They're both grill masters."

"And fear not, Tawny." Wendy announced as she continued jotting her shopping list. "Our grill isn't vegetarian. That's the arrangement Paul and I made when we got married…my kitchen is vegetarian; his grill doesn't have to be. It's how he gets his carnivorous fix. You'll see, Tawny…marriage is all about little negotiations."

Nodding Sara announced, "Gil gets his carnivore fix in the bug room."

"Yuck!" Tawny hoped her morning sickness didn't return now that she had an image of Gil snacking on roach meat."

"No!" Sara laughed at the two women staring at her in disgust no doubt wondering how she could kiss a man who consumes bugs. "He has a fridge in there and that's where he keeps his emergency meat stash."

"Oh." Tawny sipped her ice water and pushed the nausea-inducing thought from her mind.

"Speaking of my bug loving man…" Sara popped her head out of the kitchen. "He's back with your favorite clown."

"Does my clown look jolly?" Tawny's voice filled with concern. "Or does he look depressed."

"Very jolly."

She breathed a sigh of relief.

"I've got the camera." Wendy announced as they all walked in the living room to greet the men. They had made plans to take a few photos if Greg was in a good mood.

"Hey, Honey!" Tawny rushed over and through her arms around Greg. "You look great."

"I feel great…had a ton of chocolate at the doctor's office, then my Big Daddy took me out for ice cream, and then I power napped on the ride over here." Clutching her he whispered, "Let's go home and snuggle."

"In a minute okay. First we have to take some photos." Turning around she called out. "Okay Wendy. Picture time!"

"Let's go out front by the flowers."

Greg happily complied but asked, "Why are we doing a photo shoot?"

"Because we don't have a picture together." Taking his hand she tugged him close. "Your mother will be thrilled when we email her one."

"Yeah…uh…let's not talk about my mom, I already discussed her enough with Dr. Myers."

Sara and Gil followed them outside.

"You're off the hook today, Gil," Wendy informed him. "But be prepared for some candid shots and a few poses on Sunday. Sara wants to start a scrapbook for your baby and she can't do it without photos."

Sitting on the grassy lawn Greg pulled Tawny onto his lap. "How's this?"

"Perfect…just forget the camera is here and keep posing. That's what I tell the kids and they come out really nice." Wendy bent down. "You make such a cute couple. I can't wait to see how beautiful your babies come out." She snapped a dozen and kept going.

Nuzzling up to Greg Tawny flashed a million watt smile. "I love you, Honey."

"I love you too." He kissed her cheek.

Sara watched with delight. "That one will be great." Turning to her husband she slipped her arms around his waist and stared into his eyes. "What do you say we go home and have a cozy evening?"

"Got it!" Wendy snickered as she snapped Gil and Sara gazing into each other's eyes. "I'll e-mail all these later. Your scrapbooks will be off to a good start."

Bank One Ballpark
6:25 p.m.

At the changeover, Carrie tapped the grey-haired man sitting in front of them who she had observed to be a very sweet. "Excuse me. Would mind taking our picture?" She held out the camera. "It's our first ballgame together and I want to commemorate it for our scrapbook."

"Certainly, Dear."

"Just push the red button."

"Thanks," Nick added as he pulled Carrie close and smiled.

"That's a keeper," The man said after snapping the photo and returning the camera. "Enjoy the game."

"Thank you." Carrie took camera and re-snuggled.

"At A&M we have a tradition during football games." Nick eagerly filled her in. "Every time the team scores you get to kiss your date. I think we should practice here in case we're ever in Texas for a game."

"What a terrific idea…but I have an even better one." Grinning she said, "Since neither of us is really the home team. I'll root for the Mets, you root for the Diamondbacks. When my team scores, I kiss you. When your team scores, you kiss me."

"I love how your mind works."

Flipping the digital camera to view she glanced at the photo just taken. "Aww…we look so happy."

"The evidence doesn't lie, Baby." He looked closely at the picture displayed. "Wow…this vacation must be working, because I look really relaxed."

Desert Springs Hospital
Psych Ward
6:48 p.m.

Jim sat at Ellie's bedside holding up photo. "Remember this one?" It was a picture of him holding her on a pony ride.

In a tired voice she replied, "I don't remember being there with you but…is that Turtle Back Zoo?"

"Yeah." He nodded. "We went there a few times. I hear they've done a lot with the place since I left Jersey." It was small talk, but a chance to bond. The valium they were giving her was staving off her withdrawal symptoms enough that she was awake and rational for short bursts.

On Saturday morning, upon discharge he would drive her to Flagstaff, Arizona, to a treatment facility Heather found called Whispering Pines. At twenty grand for twenty-eight days it was supposed to be the best in the area. Located in a tranquil mountain setting, the focus at Whispering Pines was not only on healing drug addiction but the spirit of those who came for treatment. They promised to focus on building Ellie's self-esteem and Jim knew that was what his daughter needed more than anything at this point in her life.

First she would detox cold turkey and then she'd start the uphill battle. He'd visit on Sundays. He'd be there early, waiting for the doors to open at noon, and he planned on staying until they kicked him out at five. It had to work because he knew deep down this would be the only shot at success.

"Daddy…" She handed him the picture as her eyes fluttered closed.

"Yes, Sweetheart."

"I think I'll get some sleep now."

"Okay, Honey." Bending over he tenderly placed a kiss on her forehead, holding it there for a moment and then reluctantly pulling away. "Sleep well." He studied the bruise on her face, which was darker today. It was a harsh reminder of the successful fight she put up to avoid the rape. "If you need me, my cell and pager numbers are taped on your phone."

She was already asleep.

"I love you, Ellie." He placed the picture of the two of them on the bedside table, propping it up with tissue box so she'd see it when she woke. "Good night, Sweetheart."

After taking a moment to compose himself, he stepped outside the room to meet Heather who had left to give father and daughter some privacy.

Jumping to her feet she asked, "How did it go?"

"Very well." Clearing the emotion from his throat with a cough he said, "She looked at the brochures. We discussed it. She swears she's ready."

"You're not convinced?" He wore his worry like a neon sign.

"How can I know for sure when she's got Valium in her." He started walking down the hall. "The true test will be when she's there de-toxing. She's tried it before."

"In a county program without the support of her father," Heather reminded him. "It's apples to oranges. She'll be receiving the best treatment money can buy and she'll have you pulling for her."

"You've lived in Vegas for years…give me some odds."

At the elevator he waited while she pondered.

"Eighty percent chance of success." Taking his hand she let her smile unfurl. "We've been around the block enough times to know there are no sure things. But in my gut I have a good feeling. I spent an hour with her alone today while you were at work and I believe she's sincere." Stepping into the elevator Heather honestly remarked, "I've been around young girls who know how to bullshit for years. I can smell it a mile a way." When the door closed she squeezed his hand. "She's not blowing smoke. She wants it…so much. She wants you to be proud of her."

"You had me before you said that."

"She told me directly."

Jim glanced over. "Really?"

Looking him in the eye she stated, "I may hurt you, I may disappoint you, but one thing I'll never do to you, Jim, is lie."

Nodding he simply said, "Thank you…for everything, but most of all for that."

Author's Notes:

When Carrie dreams about Cheetos, it's never just a dream about Cheetos. When Greg selects a book in a therapist's office, it's not because he wants to read. I hope you enjoyed the introspection and discussions as well as the Gil and Sara's '1st date' flashback, which I felt captured the old awkwardness and showcased how far they've come in communicating…a nice parallel to Nick and Carrie/Tawny and Greg working to strengthen their relationships now.

I also was also trying to convey how far Greg and Grissom's relationship has come over time and hope their scenes read well.

The fact that none of the three couples have any or many pictures compared to Wendy and Paul having a book full of them symbolizes how far the new couples have to go compared to a marriage of many years. Contrasted by Wendy and Paul's communication breaking down after many years of marriage because of the stress of working to make ends meet (the money theme in the last two chapters) versus the new couples all eagerly working to learn about each other.

Lastly, the Brass, Ellie, Heather scene…people who know the pain of broken down communication and now are trying to rebuild it (Brass and Ellie) and trust again (Brass and Ellie, Brass and Heather).

I hope it all worked and read smoothly.

Next Chapter: Getting It Back - Part 8

Posting: Monday

Teaser: It's a new day full of promise.

Thanks for reading and sharing your thoughts! Have a great weekened!

Maggs