Disclaimer: Trademarked product, borrowed for wacky hi-jinx to ensue.
Title: Last Chance, chapter 22
Author: hazeleyes57
Rating: R
A/N: This chapter begins a few short hours prior to the end of the last chapter. Grissom is still at work and Sara is still at the cabin in the mountains. It is still raining.
Last Chance Chapter 22
To the casual observer the mound on the large bed was just some piled-up linen and a haphazardly jumbled quilt. A more thorough observer would note, however, that the pile moved occasionally. Not much, and not far, but just enough to indicate the presence of life.
A pale hand snaked out from the depths of the covers. The nails were trimmed short and unvarnished, but the hand was obviously female. It moved a short distance and the fingers – long, slim pianists' fingers – disappeared under a dishevelled curtain of dark wavy hair. A muffled groan could be heard.
"Jeez, what's with the heating?"
Sara's nose was cold. She rubbed it with her warm hands. It wasn't working quickly enough so she ducked her face under the quilt and rubbed at her nose some more. When it was sufficiently rescued from imminent hypothermia she stuck her head out long enough to find out the time. It still felt quite early, but it was difficult to tell with such an overcast sky.
The bedside alarm clock was off, still showing a blank where the time should be. Obviously the power was not yet back on, so, ergo, the heating was also off. Having worked it out to her satisfaction, Sara withdrew back under the quilt. She was warmly cocooned and reluctant to stir from the bed. Keen as she undoubtedly was to get back to Grissom, it was hard to get out of bed when you were this warm and comfortable. She sighed and closed her eyes. Just a little bit longer wouldn't hurt.
Twenty minutes later Sara became very aware of the fact that she now needed to get up. The demands of her bladder overrode her desire to stay in bed, so she reluctantly slid her feet to the floor and manoeuvred herself up and off the bed. She shuffled off to the bathroom, absently yawning as she tied Grissom's robe around her. The towelling material held the residual smell of cinnamon and Sara smirked when she fondly recalled just how it got there. Damn, but that man was sex on legs.
Sara returned to the bedroom and picked up her watch, checking the time without thought. She gave a double take.
"Holy crap."
Sara had slept a lot less than she had thought. It was only a little after seven am. but she felt wide-awake. She put it down to all the years that she had worked the night shift.
She decided to get washed and dressed first, then have a light breakfast. She didn't want to be drowsy on the drive.
There was sufficient hot water in the tank to allow her to have a wash, and the lack of electricity didn't stop her from using the bottled gas to boil water for a hot drink.
By seven thirty Sara was almost ready to go. She had left a note for Mrs. Weston about the storm damage, collected her wet clothes in a plastic bag to take back with her and tidied up the mess inside the cabin from the previous night. She did try to ring Mrs. Weston's number, but it came up with the disconnected ring tone. More weather damage, probably.
Sara slipped and slithered her way across to the shed in her parka and the borrowed boots. The ground was waterlogged in several places. She discovered almost immediately that some of the fallen tree debris and burnt branches were preventing one of the shed doors from opening wide enough to get the car out. She tested the weight of a couple of the tree's smaller branches and moved them to one side. She kicked aside a few of the smaller bits, and bent to the last and biggest branch remaining. It required a little more effort to move it, but with some huffing and puffing that left her momentarily dizzy, Sara was finally clear to get the car out. She put some old papers down in the footwell in an effort to prevent too much mud being transferred to the car mats, then drove the car forward and out of the shed for a few yards before getting out to go back and close the shed doors. It was starting to rain again.
After she had securely locked up the house and shed Sara did not linger having a last look around. She was warm from her efforts to get her car out, and the Braxton Hicks' were making her feel uncomfortable. She felt compelled to get going, to get to her husband as soon as possible.
Sara pressed on the gas pedal with caution and eased the car on to the track leading down to the main road. Her hands shook on the wheel and she frowned. The last time she had felt this nervy and wired was…actually, she couldn't think of any time that she had felt this wired. It was worse than a caffeine high.
Sara tried to tell herself that this was just excitement and that she was just looking forward to seeing Grissom again. The baby rolled suddenly and kicked her under her ribs. She winced.
"Hey, quiet down in there, Momma's tryna concentrate."
Sara briefly glanced out of the side window at the view across the mountain. To its former description of 'magnificent', it now had earned 'forbidding'.
Sara's gaze snapped forward when she felt the car slip in the mud momentarily. She eased off the gas until the car was back under control, then resumed her downward course. For the next mile or so it was not a steep drop from the track, but she didn't fancy the idea of going off it either. She silently vowed to pay more attention to the muddy water occasionally to be found running across the track from further up the mountain.
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Twenty minutes after Sara left the cabin Mrs Weston was surprised to see an unfamiliar car coming down the track from Mr Grissom's property. She frowned as she stopped at her kitchen window and watched the car disappear down the road. She was sure that there was no one supposed to be up at the house, Mr Grissom never came up to the cabin at this time of year; the weather was not so good and he knew that she usually went away.
Mrs. Weston tutted as she dried her rubber gloves and took them off. The dishes could wait. She looked up her employer's Vegas number and picked up her telephone. She hung up again in irritation when she realised that the line was still dead. She reached for her cell phone and tapped out the numbers.
Miles away in Las Vegas, Grissom's house telephone began to ring. After precisely fifteen rings, the ansaphone cut in and Mrs Weston tutted again. She hated answering machines with a passion; they made her feel flustered. She usually required forewarning that she would need to leave a message.
She hung up, leaving no message, then telephoned Grissom's work number.
It was the first of three messages that would be left, each requesting that he ring her back. Mrs Weston left her cellphone number with them too, explaining about the downed lines. She just needed confirmation that Mr Grissom had indeed allowed someone to stay up at the cabin.
Or official notification that she needed to call the police.
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Sara used one hand to try to slacken the seatbelt from around her bump. It felt too tight and uncomfortable. It shifted slightly, which helped a little, but she still felt too confined. The belt seemed to be stuck somewhere. She tugged on it again, but this time it tightened instead.
"Crap."
Sara glanced down at the belt and gently pulled at it with one hand to release the tension. It moved freely and the belt loosened. Sara smiled in satisfaction and looked up, just in time to see a blur of brown fly across the road in front of her. It was some kind of small animal, maybe a cat or something. Whatever it was, it made Sara jump and she instinctively stamped on the brakes, even though the creature had already made it across the road.
Her purse flew off the front seat to land in the front footwell and her case on the seat behind her bumped into the back of the driver's seat. This Sara took in and instantly ignored. The sole focus of her attention was the fact that there was no longer any traction with the road. After the initial resistance of the brakes, her tires had locked and the car was now skidding in the mud.
Sara hurriedly took her foot off the brakes to release the wheels and try to regain the road, but it was too late. She felt the back end of the car fishtail off to the right, towards the edge of the track. She braked again, hard, in the hope of stopping the car going over the edge.
It didn't work.
In a curiously slow quiet motion, the car slid and then bumped over the edge of the track, its back end going first.
Sara found herself pushed back into her seat, now securely held by her troublesome seatbelt, as her car slid backwards down the rocky incline. Suddenly it was very noisy in the car as it bumped and rumbled down the hillside. Sara stomped both feet on the brakes and tightly gripped the wheel. Her terror was real and visceral. She was unable to see where she was going and any moment she expected to hit something.
She hoped.
Anything to stop her being launched into mid air when she ran out of mountainside.
They say that your life flashes before you in moments such as this, but Sara didn't seem to have the time for it. She was too busy being tossed around like lettuce for a salad. She wanted to let go of the wheel to guard her baby, but she couldn't seem to get her hands to unlock.
It seemed to go on forever, but the bouncing and banging gradually smoothed out and Sara realised that the brakes were beginning to bite as she remembered to pump and release the pedal. She felt a bubble of hope.
Which burst a second later when the car gave a huge jolt and bounced upwards before crashing down and coming to an abrupt halt.
Sara was shoved unmercifully into the driver's seat and pain shot along her back and around her belly. She lay unmoving in the seat for long moments, stunned into immobility. She stared out of the unbroken windshield up to a steel grey sky. She couldn't believe that she was still conscious. Hell, she couldn't believe that she was still alive. She looked down at herself and saw that her hands had made it around her abdomen at some point. She prayed hard that the baby was okay.
The engine had stalled as soon as Sara's foot left the clutch pedal and the silence wrapped itself around her like a cloak.
Sara felt curiously detached from the whole event. Almost as if it were happening to someone else. She was oddly clear about what needed to be done and how to go about it. She needed to get out of the car, get her purse, and her cases.
Especially the hospital one. The one for the baby. Then she had to walk up to the road track. And find her husband. Grissom. She had to find Grissom. Suddenly that was the only thing that she needed to achieve.
Sara took stock. The car was lying at a steep angle, its rear end in what looked like a ditch of some sort. There was no chance of driving the car out. The front wheels were clear of the ground. She struggled to reach around herself and release her belt. She ached everywhere, but she did not appear to be injured or bleeding, apart from odd scrapes and cuts.
It took Sara ten minutes and some considerable pain to manoeuvre her way out of the car, but eventually she was standing beside the vehicle. She reached back in for her purse, which was now on the back seat, its contents strewn everywhere. She picked up what she could find, her money and cards, a pen or two and some other bits and pieces.
Sara managed to get the small case from the back seat, but she didn't even try for the one in the trunk. It was too heavy to lugg all the way back to the road anyway. Once she had her bearings, Sara set out for the track at the top of the slope, her pace slow and steady.
Sara had to stop and rest for a moment as another Braxton-Hicks arrived, this one lasting a couple of minutes. There was some other pain in her back, probably a bruised muscle or ten, and she felt battered all over. As if to reassure her, the baby moved against her palm and Sara felt overwhelming relief.
Her eyes started to well up and she had the desperate urge to cry. She refused to give in to it, afraid that if she started she would collapse completely. A couple of dry sobs escaped before she could stop them.
"No! No crying. Don't be a wuss. Get your ass in gear Sidle, get a move on. What would Grissom think?"
She looked at her surroundings, particularly the way that she had just come, taking in the muddy gouges and damage that indicated her path from the track road to her present location. She had been exceptionally lucky to have avoided hitting anything big before coming to rest in the ditch.
Sara picked up her purse and slung it over her shoulder by its strap. She searched through the contents that she had retrieved, not recalling having seen her cell phone among the motley collection. Her search became a little more frantic when it became evident that her cell was missing. She dumped the purse's contents on the ground and had one last look.
"Fuckit! Just my frigging luck. I'd be just fine if I could call for help on my lipstick."
Sara picked up the strewn purse contents and shoved them back in place. She resolutely picked up her case and turned towards the track, which looked a hell of a lot further away than it had previously seemed. She looked at her watch. Seven forty. Well, she wasn't going back down to the car, so she had better get going. She wondered what Grissom was doing. Out on a call? Or finishing off some of his paperwork? Either way she would have been eternally grateful to have him turn up right now with that knowing little smirk of his.
The incline was sufficiently steep that Sara had to keep stopping every now and then to catch her breath. She also had to stop more than once for the Braxton-Hicks' to pass. Her shock and exhaustion were making them seem harder to cope with. Her under-the-breath-mantra was 'just a few more steps, just a few more'.
Half way up she didn't have the breath for that, either. She stopped for a breather, and looked at her watch again. Eight am. She frowned and looked back the way she had come and then up to the rest of her journey. Twenty minutes for that? Jeez, she was out of condition.
Sara tiredly straightened up and collected the case again. She started making bargains with herself.
"If I go twenty paces without stopping I shall have a bar of candy. If I go thirty, I'll have…two bars."
Sara frowned as she struggled uphill. She was so busy trying to figure out what to reward herself with at the next stage that she didn't pay sufficient attention to her footing. She stepped awkwardly on an uneven piece of stone.
And suddenly found herself pitched forward through the air.
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Mrs. Weston checked her cell phone for messages for the half-a-dozenth time in ten minutes. There was nothing. She checked the land line telephone. It – like the power supply – was still off.
She was not a superstitious woman, nor one given to what she would call fanciful notions, but she found herself unable to settle. Both of her cats had been staying close since the storm last night, and Rocky, mad dog that he was, wouldn't come out from under the big bed upstairs.
Mrs. Weston went to the bottom of the stairs. Her husband had not left yet for work.
"Jim, I'm going out in the pick-up, I'll be back before you need to leave! If Mr Grissom calls ask him to call my cell, it's urgent."
She heard a distant acknowledgement and hurriedly collected her coat, cell phone and the keys to both the truck and the house. As a last minute thought she called Rocky down by jangling the keys to the truck. He was a sucker for a ride out. Within moments the black lab came trotting down the stairs, his tongue lolling. She had no idea what she expected to find, but she just had to do something.
Minutes later she and Rocky were off down the road. She drove slowly, aware how treacherous the road could be when the rains turned the earth to mud.
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08:15 Las Vegas
Grissom frowned at his watch. As the graveyard shift Supervisor he had to set an example. This morning's example would be to attend a 'Health and Safety' briefing by the Assistant Director, Conrad Eckle.
Joy.
Grissom got to his feet, and stretched his back into a more comfortable position. He locked his desk drawers and filing cabinet, then placed his jacket on his briefcase. As soon as the meeting was over he was going home to get washed, fed (his stomach roiled at the thought) and changed, then he was going to call Sara and tell her that he was coming to get her, ready or not. As he moved his jacket, Grissom disturbed the note Catherine had given him about Mrs Weston's call. He looked at the telephone number and didn't recognise it. He glanced again at his watch, trying to decide if he had time to call now.
He picked up the handset and started to tap out the number, just as his office door opened after a peremptory knock. Catherine stuck her head in.
"Coming?"
Grissom nodded, but continued to dial. He listened for several moments, then pressed the button to disconnect.
"No answer?"
Grissom looked up at Catherine and nodded.
"Mnmnn. I'll try again later. Probably nothing, like I said."
Grissom absently tucked the note in his pants pocket and followed Catherine out of his office, closing the door behind him.
He wondered what Sara was doing this morning. If she had any sense she would be relaxing in her hotel room, resting with her feet up. If she wasn't still asleep, of course.
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08:15
Sara's arms flew out and she automatically dropped the case as she fell forward. She crashed to her knees and hands, but managed to keep from falling flat. Her purse swung off her shoulder and thudded to the ground beside her left hand.
Sara didn't move for several moments, partly through shocked surprise, partly because she was too busy cursing. She swore up one side and down the other. She berated herself for the monumentally stupid idea of coming out here on her own, and even reserved a small curse for Grissom for letting her come out alone. The minor fact that he did attempt to dissuade her was conveniently forgotten. She was too Goddam mad.
Eventually the pain in her hands forced Sara to lean back on her legs and examine the new grazes on the heel of both hands. She was fortunate not to have broken the skin sufficiently enough to bleed, but it was still unpleasant. She rubbed her hands on her maternity pants before the numbness of impact wore off. Despite the stinging pain, she then checked her stomach, willing the baby to move and let her know that he or she was okay.
Sara looked up to the road. It still looked so far away. Her shoulders slumped in dismay.
"Crap. I hope you're happy Grissom, you're right as usual."
Sara picked herself up, getting to her feet by leaning on the dropped case. She brushed her pants off, and squared her shoulders.
"One step, then another. I am in my happy place…"
She bent to collect the small case and straightened for the walk. The baby shifted and Sara smiled with relief. Her happy place was suddenly a lot happier.
"…where I am ordering truckloads of candy. Truckloads. Big frigging truckloads."
Thus organised, Sara put one foot in front of the other, taking great care as to where she placed them.
"I need a distraction. Something else to think about."
Sara recalled a game for tedious car journeys when she was a child. She would work through the alphabet with a particular subject, like girls' names or boys' names or whatever. Once it was the names of towns. She thought for a while. It had to be reasonably difficult.
"Spices and Herbs. Yeah. Allspice. Basil. Cinnamon. Mmn. Cinnamon, now there's a tale."
Sara grinned briefly. She was definitely distracted. Distracted right back to the kitchen at the cabin.
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Mrs. Weston kept a good eye on the track in front of her, but also peered up ahead to see if she could spot the car that she had seen earlier. When she rounded the last bend before a half-mile long straight and saw no other vehicle ahead, she was baffled. She stopped the car, absently petting Rocky as she looked around.
"Come on Rocky, let's go home. We'll talk to Mr Grissom and see what's up."
She turned the car around and headed back. Less than two minutes later Rocky suddenly stood up on all fours in the car seat and started barking furiously.
"What is it boy? What have you seen?"
Mrs. Weston stopped the pick-up and pulled on the parking brake. She left the engine running, just in case she required a fast escape. She got out of the vehicle and walked over to the edge of the track, in the direction of the dog's frantic attention.
"Oh my Lord!"
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08:35 Las Vegas
Grissom hurried up the corridor with Jim Brass at his side. He was furiously angry and terribly afraid; never a good combination. Entering his office, Grissom turned to Brass.
"When did you get the last call?"
Brass looked at his watch while he calculated.
"Less than ten minutes ago."
He looked at Grissom with a shrewd eye.
"I take it that you didn't know she was there?"
Grissom just looked at Brass and the detective had no trouble interpreting the look to mean 'you think I would have let her go that far on her own?'
Brass answered his own question.
"Of course not."
Grissom already had his cell out and was fishing in his pocket for the post-it with Mrs. Weston's number.
He dialled the number and it started ringing…
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Back in the meeting Ecklie knew that he had lost the attention of the room. Grissom's parting shot had seen to that. Damn the man. The Assistant Director continued on with an abridged version of the last item anyway, but he kept it short.
Greg turned to Nick, shocked concern written all over him. His voice was quiet.
"Do you think Sara's okay? I mean, it's not like he said 'dead' or 'dying', right?"
Nick didn't bother to point out that Greg had made the assumption that Grissom was talking about Sara. They both knew that Grissom wouldn't have married anyone else.
"Let's not borrow trouble. I'm sure Gris will tell us when he can."
On the other side of the room, Catherine turned a surprised face to Warrick, forgetting herself in her shock and laying a hand on his arm.
"Did Gil say 'wife'?"
Warrick nodded in confirmation. He placed his hand over Catherine's, trying to give her some support. She went whiter still, her eyes wide.
"Dear God, then Brass must mean Sara's been in an accident."
Her voice was a horrified whisper but Warrick heard her perfectly. He looked up to the front of the room and noted that Ecklie was winding up at long last.
"Let's get out of here."
Warrick led the way through the bodies, collecting Nick and Greg on the way, and the four of them headed with alacrity for Grissom's office.
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Sara abruptly stopped still, her ears straining. She thought that she had heard a vehicle a few minutes back, but as she couldn't see the track from where she was, so they wouldn't be able to see her. Now she thought that she could hear a dog barking. Her head came up and the first thing she saw was the wondrous sight of a light blue pick-up, which, thank God, had stopped. It was only then that Sara saw the woman looking at her and waving. Sara felt weak with relief, then energised enough to try to hurry over the remaining distance.
Mrs Weston turned off the truck's engine and returned to the edge of the track. She started down the steep hill, unable to just stand and watch the dark-haired woman struggle alone. She wondered what on earth it was in the case that was so important that it could not be left behind.
They both recognised each other at the same time.
"Mrs Grissom! What the h – why didn't you tell me that you were at the cabin?"
Sara was close to tears of relief, but she held on to them. She was breathless and overheated.
"Mrs. Weston." Sara sucked in some air. " Good to see you."
Now that she was closer, Gina Weston could see that Sara was not overweight, as she had thought, but very pregnant. She took Sara's case from her unresisting fingers and turned to guide the younger woman back up the incline.
"Don't go mad now, you take your time. You're okay, let's keep it that way, mmm?"
Sara nodded, omitting to inform Grissom's housekeeper that she was having another Braxton-Hicks.
The two women made their way slowly back up to the track, where they were greeted by the now-frantic barking of the dog. Sara hesitated before approaching the pick-up. Gina noticed and turned to Rocky.
"Hush now, you silly dog, it's Mrs. Grissom."
Sara had the absurd urge to laugh at the formal introduction. She shook her head at the older woman.
"Sara. Please, call me Sara."
Gina Weston was prepared to agree to anything at this point, just to get Sara in the truck and get her to the Doctor in town.
"Surely, and I'm Gina. Now why don't you get in and I'll move Rocky."
Rocky and the case went on the back seats of the four-cab, while Sara managed to get into the front passenger seat.
"Please, can I use your cell? I lost mine and I need to call Gr - Gill."
"Yes, surely. I'm waiting for him to come back to me anyway; I have been leaving messages all over for Mr Grissom. I thought that he had burglars."
Sara puzzled her way through the sentence, tiredly realising that Mrs Weston was referring to her presence at the cabin. She could not be bothered to explain the whole messages thing, so she just smiled apologetically.
"Sorry, my fault."
Mrs. Weston dismissed Sara's concern and told her not to worry as she handed her the cellphone.
Sara checked the time on the cell then dialled the townhouse. After several moments, Sara disconnected the call before the machine picked up. She dialled Grissom's cell.
It was off, to her surprise.
"I'll need to try again, he must be driving or something."
"No problem."
Gina Weston turned the pick-up around at the next opportunity and headed back into town. Sara wondered why they weren't going back up the mountain road. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
Rocky, now quieter, leaned his head through between the front seats. He appeared to be grinning at the two women as he panted, resting from his labours. Sara couldn't help but smile at the animal.
Gina glanced at her passenger.
"I'm taking you to the town doctor, get him to check you're both alright after the accident."
Sara didn't demur, she thought that it was only sensible. It was just that she desperately wanted to be with Grissom instead. She sighed inwardly, a captive of her own stupidity.
"Sure, okay."
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Grissom closed his cell phone and looked at Brass.
"No answer on either Sara or Mrs Weston's cell phone, and the land line is down."
Brass had never seen such a look of frustration on his friend's face before. Even when Grissom did not know the answer to some thorny forensic question, he always knew the path to take to get it. This was something out of his control.
"There's probably a very good reason for all that. What we need to do now is - "
Grissom abruptly turned back to the door of his office, his action unintentionally cutting Brass off. It was the action of a man who had to move to channel his anger without striking something or someone.
Grissom looked up and was not surprised to see that Catherine, Warrick, Greg and Nick had followed them from the breakroom. Nick held back, speaking softly on his own cell phone.
Grissom looked at them but spoke to Brass.
"What I need to do is to get to Sara. It's several hours by car; I can be there - "
"No. You can't drive for that long after working all night, it's suicide."
It was Grissom's turn to be cut off, but the source surprised him. His voice was carefully controlled.
"What?"
Catherine stepped forward, closer than the rest.
"Greg's right Gill, you would be a danger to yourself and others. There has to be another way."
Brass interjected.
"LVPD's finest could get you up there a damn sight quicker."
Before Grissom could answer, Nick moved forward through the group. He was smiling in that near-smirk way that said 'result!'
"Brass is right, Grissom, and I know just the lieutenant to do it. Can you be ready in ten minutes?"
Brass and Grissom both turned to him. Grissom shrugged. He picked up his jacket and looked at Nick.
"I'm ready now."
Nick grinned despite the seriousness of Sara and Grissom's plight.
"But we're not, not for ten minutes. Do you need money, or food or water, or whatever? Because now is the time to get it."
Grissom saw the wisdom of his words, but he couldn't face food right now. The water was a good idea though. He nodded in acknowledgement, heading again for the door.
His entourage followed.
In other circumstances it would have been funny.
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Gina Weston looked up from the magazine she was half-heartedly trying to read when the door to her doctor's consulting room opened. Sara emerged looking a little flushed, but otherwise appeared to be okay. Gina did not press her for details. Sara settled the paperwork and the two women emerged into the sunshine less than fifteen minutes later.
"While you were in there I managed to get through to a Detective Brass, who said that he'll get hold of Mr Grissom. Something about a meeting. Anyway, he said that he'd get back to us. I didn't give him any big message, just that you'd had a small set to with the car and would be at my place shortly. Then the receptionist made me turn off my cell."
Sara looked glum.
"Mine's still in the car. Grissom will be mad I'm not picking up."
"Oh, hush now. He knows – or will know – that you are well enough to be at my place. He'll try again."
The two women made their way back to the pick-up and Rocky. Sara was unusually quiet on the journey back, but Gina Weston didn't know her well enough to have realised this fact.
Sara was feeling guilty and worried. Guilty that she had probably misled the doctor by not mentioning the Braxton Hicks, and worried about getting back to Vegas. Her car had to be recovered and repaired if possible. Sara was not, by nature, a person who made a decision and then complained when things didn't turn out as expected. But under the circumstances she conceded to herself that perhaps this last week was not such a sterling idea and if she could have had her moments of contemplative insight back in Vegas it would have saved everyone a lot of hassle.
Twenty-twenty hindsight, always useful.
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The ten minutes were up and, at Nick's prompting, they headed out of the building for the parking lot. The early morning sun was bright already and it promised to be hot later. No one even gave a thought to getting in his or her car to leave for home.
Half expecting some kind of fast response vehicle, Grissom looked around, then turned to speak to Nick. He and Greg were looking at the bright blue cloudless sky, both wearing sunglasses. Nick looked like a chisel-jawed advert for police recruitment, while Greg looked like someone who had got lost coming home from an all night party.
Catherine was on her cell, calling Lindsey to let her know that she wasn't going to be able to make it home before she left for school. After speaking to her daughter, she was briefly explaining the situation to her mother when she was almost drowned out by a 'thwacker thwacker' racket overhead. Catherine hurriedly finished her call and closed the cell. She looked across the car lot with a grin, then shouted to Warrick, only two feet away from her.
"Trust Nicky to come up with this sort of thing!"
Warrick nodded, ducking to avoid the flying dust stirred up by the LVMPD helicopter.
Grissom shook his head in disbelief, but he looked at Nick with gratitude. They rest of the group held back, but the two of them crossed the car lot, keeping their heads low under the swish of fast-idling rotor blades.
The door of the helicopter opened, and a man in a flight suit leaned out. Nick reached the chopper first and shook hands with the co-pilot in greeting. It was obvious that they knew each other well. Grissom was introduced and also shook hands. He could just make out what was being said.
"We have to hurry Sir, we only have a five minute window."
Grissom nodded and turned to Nick. He had to shout above the helicopter's engine.
"How!"
Nick grinned.
"You're always saying it's 'what' you know, but sometimes it's really 'who' you know!"
Grissom looked suitably puzzled until Nick pointed to the pilot. The co-pilot must have said something by helmet microphone, because the pilot turned at that moment and gave them a smile. Despite the flight helmet and the aviator sunglasses, it didn't require a detective to figure out that male pilots rarely wore that shade of lipgloss.
At least not while on duty.
Grissom clambered awkwardly into one of the back seats and turned back to Nick, who remained on the ground. Grissom didn't know what to say that was going to be even halfway adequate.
"Thank you doesn't cover it."
Nick waved it away, a bashful smile on his face. After securely closing the door he ducked slightly and backed up, giving the co-pilot the all clear.
In the seat in front of Grissom the pilot brought the rotors up to full speed and radioed air traffic control to notify them that they were beginning the first leg of their flight plan. Grissom hurriedly strapped himself in. He was handed a set of headphones and by the time he had put them on they were in the air. He barely had time to look out of the window before the ground was too far away to see anyone clearly.
Once they were clear of the buildings the helicopter turned and headed north. Grissom looked at his watch. It was eight forty eight. He wondered what time they would arrive; right on top of that thought he wondered where they would arrive. He leaned forward to tap the co pilot on the shoulder, then started with surprise when he heard a woman's voice in his ears.
"Nice to finally meet you Mr Grissom. I'm Lieutenant Larisa Martinez. Call me Larisa. I've heard a lot about you from Nicky. The comm. system is voice activated by the way, so just speak normally."
"Thank you, Larisa. Not all bad I hope."
Grissom could hear the smile in the woman's voice as she answered.
"Not too shabby. And congratulations on your marriage, by the way. Nicky says it's about time." The pilot's voice became businesslike. "We're going to take you to Warm Springs. We will be heading north towards Ely, then turn east before we get to the Humboldt Toiyabe National Forest. We can't fly directly to your destination due to the restricted airspace around Nellis."
Still surprised about Nick's personal comment, Grissom just nodded, even though he couldn't be seen. Obviously even police helicopters had to obey the rules around the Air Force complex.
"When will we arrive?"
"ETA is about an hour, give or take. The local sheriff is a friend of my Captain and he's agreed to contact your Mrs. Weston, explain what we're going to do, and meet us with your wife at the landing zone."
"Is that allowed?"
The pilot nodded out of habit and her voice was heard again.
"Yessir, we filed a flight plan and got approval. We're good to go. One thing I must ask is that you don't use your cell while we are in the air. Apart from that, you try to relax if you can, we'll be there before you know it."
Grissom subsided in his seat, and frowned. He had hoped that he could try calling Mrs. Weston again, but obviously not. He would have to drag up some of the deep reserves of his patience to cope with his powerlessness in this situation.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"Mr Grissom will be here before you know it, you'll see." Gina Weston paused to invite Sara into her home, showing her in to the large family kitchen. She placed Sara's bag beside the table. "I don't know what he was thinking though, letting you come all the way out here by yourself."
Sara knew that Mrs Weston meant well, but she wasn't in her most appreciative mood. She pulled out a chair at the table and carefully sat down, while her hostess busied herself with making coffee, pointing out that it was decaff because of her husband's blood pressure.
Sara tried to appear interested out of politeness sake, but she quickly realised that Grissom's housekeeper was content to chat on without much feedback, so she let it wash over her as she sipped her coffee.
"…here I am going on, and you here looking exhausted. Would you like to go and have a rest? It will be a while before we hear about your car."
Sara zoned in just in time to offer an adequate response. She gave a small smile.
"I'd really like to wash up?"
Mrs Weston looked apologetic and hurried over to the kitchen doorway, beckoning Sara on like traffic.
"Of course, I'm sorry I didn't think to offer. I'll show you were everything is."
Sara followed, her pace more sedate. Her collection of bumps and bruises were beginning to ache and she really really needed to use the facilities.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Sara was woken up by the sound of a telephone ringing somewhere in the house. She was surprised on two counts; one, that she had fallen asleep at all, and two, she had understood that the telephone lines were down. Obviously not any longer. She struggled to sit up and slid her feet to the floor of Mrs Weston's spare bedroom. Sara rubbed her face with both hands, trying to gather her thoughts from the depths of sleep. She made her way downstairs a few minutes later, just in time to see Gina Weston turn from the telephone.
"Ah, there you are. That was Ned from the garage. The car is repairable, but won't be done until next week at the earliest. He knows that you need to get going back to Vegas, so he has made a provisional car rental for you in town."
Sara looked mildly sceptical. Perhaps Ned got kickbacks from the rental guys. She hadn't realised how transparent she had looked until Mrs Weston continued.
"We only have the one car rental agency here, so he wanted to get in before you lost out altogether."
Sara had the grace to look apologetic.
"Okay, and thanks. Tell Ned I appreciate it."
"This is a small town, you'll be able to tell him yourself when we collect the things from your car. He said to tell you he found your cellphone too and it's still working because it's gone off a couple of times." She grinned, "He's dying with curiosity, poor man."
Mrs. Weston went upstairs to find the elusive Jim Weston and tell him that she was taking Sara to Ned's.
While she was away, Sara felt the telltale sign of another Braxton Hicks contraction. Her belly tightened up, beginning at the bottom and travelling up to the top of the bump, until it was a solid tense piece of muscle. It was very unpleasant and made her shift around to try to get comfortable again. Sara was very grateful when it finally eased off and her belly relaxed again. She blew out air and rubbed her stomach. They were definitely getting worse. She wasn't sure that she was going to enjoy a couple of weeks of these before the real thing got started.
"Are you okay?"
Sara jumped in surprise. She had been so busy breathing that she didn't hear Gina's return.
"Huh? Oh, yeah, just the baby kicking around a little. It's fine."
"You sure? You looked very red there for a moment."
Sara gave a large and not particularly convincing grin.
"Sure, it's fine. Baby's awake."
Gina Weston was deprived of the opportunity to debate the issue by the telephone. It was the Sheriff's department. The Sheriff explained about the rendezvous with the incoming police helicopter, and Grissom's presence. Mrs Weston updated them on the car situation and they talked some more. Finally Gina Weston hung up the telephone. She turned to Sara, looking very happy.
"Good news! It's a load off my mind I can tell you. I was really worried about you, the baby and that long drive home."
Sara looked a little baffled. Mrs Weston explained further.
"Your husband has come to his senses and he's actually flying up here to get you. Isn't that lovely? He must be scared out of his wits, poor man."
Sara's heart skipped a little with a combination of excitement and panic. She had no problem flying herself, but she didn't think that it would be a good idea in her current condition. Even airlines had rules about that.
"So we're going to drive back…?"
Mrs Weston nodded.
"The Sheriff will come with you to show you where the helicopter is going to land and make sure that you meet up okay, then you and Mr Grissom can drive home - back in time for dinner I should think. Quite romantic, don't you think?"
Clearly this was working for Mrs Weston, so Sara smiled in agreement, unwilling to burst her bubble.
The drive home could be interesting. Would Grissom be mad at her? Probably. Hopefully not for long. A few hours in the car with stony silence, or with dry ice fury? Neither with any luck. She would apologise in a dignified way, and admit that she may have made a mistake about coming up to the cabin. Grissom would look at her as if she were insane, a look she was quite familiar with, and then she would probably have to grovel a little, then admit that she was a nut job. Great.
Sara sighed. Or at least tried to. Even less room now.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Grissom looked at his watch again. Despite the sound advice to rest, he had spent the whole journey thinking about Sara. Sara, the baby, work, life, the universe and everything. Forty-two, the answer to everything. Grissom huffed without much humour. Mr Adams had a lot to answer for. If only it were that simple.
He had let the cat out of the bag well and truly at work. Had announced to virtually the whole department that his wife had been in an accident. It wouldn't take a huge leap for them to figure out who he was married to. Well, he didn't care. Still cared a great deal about the work, just hadn't cared what they thought at work for a long time. Play the political game, Catherine had told him on more than one occasion.
Grissom was tired of playing games. He wanted order back in his life; he wanted things back the way they had been at the cabin. He knew that things would be different with the baby's arrival, it was to be expected, but it was not impossible that he and Sara could regain the real sense of intimacy that had made their time together so special. In the last weeks before the birth he would spend time knocking down the wall between the two of them and rebuilding the rapport between them instead.
The bag that Grissom had brought with him from the lab was still between his feet. He picked it up and opened it, delving into one of its inside pockets. He took out the small ring box and checked that the ring was still safe.
Happy, sad or angry, well, ill or in the throes of ecstasy, Sara was in his future. He couldn't imagine it without her. Didn't want to.
It was time to put his cards on the table.
"Five minutes, Mr Grissom."
"Thanks."
Grissom repacked the ring and closed the bag. Those who knew him reasonably well would have recognised the set to his jaw.
As they say in Vegas…
Showtime!
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Sara looked up, shielding her eyes from most of the searingly blue sky, and looked for the helicopter. She could hear it, but had not yet seen it.
A male voice behind her suddenly spoke up.
"There!"
Sara searched the sky in the direction the Sheriff was pointing. Sure enough, a small black shape came into view.
Suddenly Sara remembered when she was a small child, hiding underneath her bed while her parents argued. She had prayed for a handsome prince to ride up and carry her away to a happy place where princes and princess played – naturally she was a princess, after all it was her dream.
Sara just never figured that her prince would be in a helicopter and that she would be weighing as much as two princesses.
Sara smirked, seeing the funny side.
What the hell, a rescue was a rescue.
The helicopter closed in rapidly until it was less than a couple of hundred yards away. It slowed down and hovered as it turned around to point back the way it had come then settled down in a cloud of dust. Sara and the Sheriff held up their hands to shield themselves from the worst of it. They could hear the altered note of the engine as the rotors slowed down.
After a few moments, Sara was able to see into the helicopter. The door opened and the person seated in the rear climbed out stiffly. Sara couldn't wait any longer, as soon as it appeared safe to do so she picked her way carefully over to the big machine.
Grissom saw her coming and hurried towards her, ducking whilst under the circumference of the blades, but still moving quickly.
The Sheriff, the pilot and co-pilot hung back, giving the couple a moment to themselves.
Larisa Martinez smiled to herself. She was a sucker for romance. This little trip certainly wouldn't hurt hers with Nicky. He didn't have to know that they had been coming out this way today anyway to collect time sensitive evidence for a case in Vegas. In fact, if he had called two hours later, she would already have left. As it was, everyone was happy.
Sara didn't have much time to figure out how she was going to greet Grissom. He took the decision out of her hands by enveloping her in a firm no-nonsense hug, immediately followed by a kiss that curled her toes. Before she had time to respond or get over her shock at such a public display of affection, his lips had already left hers.
Grissom growled sotto voce, discretely furious.
"What in hell's name do you think you are playing at!"
Sara was still held firmly against Grissom's solidly warm and comforting body. Despite his obvious anger, she could see the fear for her underneath it. The fear, and the love.
Her arms tightened around him, and her voice was affectionate as she examined his face with pleasure.
"Waiting for my prince."
Grissom gave her an odd look. His eyebrows went up.
"Sara?"
She smiled, her eyes suspiciously full.
"Nothing, it's okay. I'm very glad to see you. And I am sorry if I gave you any cause for concern. Or worry."
"If!"
Grissom's mouth worked while he obviously fought to keep the rest of his thoughts from manifesting themselves.
"I ought to paddle your backside. Except you'd probably like it."
Sara smiled, feeling closer to Grissom than she had in a long time.
"Hey, try it if you like. I see three cops who'd probably arrest your ass."
Grissom looked at Sara's face and felt the wall around his heart start to tumble.
"No jury would convict."
Sara smiled. He was probably right.
Grissom leaned back slightly to look her over, suddenly remembering the car accident.
"You okay? Are you hurt? What about the baby? Have you seen a doctor?"
"Fine, no, fine, yes. We are okay. Honest."
Grissom had nearly run out of time, the others were coming over.
"Sara, we'll talk in the car. There is something I need to say; should have said before today."
Sara held on to Grissom's arms, unwilling to let him go before he had explained further, but he shook his head in a 'not now' gesture and she reluctantly let him go.
During the introductions, Sara surreptitiously watched Grissom to see if she could see any clue to what he wanted to say to her. Somehow she had the impression that it wasn't going to be bad, and her heart lifted even further.
It was at that moment that Sara realised that she had forgiven Grissom. Her recent reminder of her mortality had put things into perspective for her, and their estrangement now seemed like a waste of precious time that they could be spending together.
Grissom picked up the bag that he had dropped at Sara's feet prior to their greeting. They said their final 'thank-you's' and their goodbyes and then Grissom helped Sara in to the rental car as if she were made of glass. The fact that she had driven the car there was now obviously irrelevant and she hid her smile.
While Grissom walked around the car to get in the driver's seat, Sara realised that her stomach was tightening up again. She fussed with her seatbelt, using her hair as a screen to shield her flushed face. Grissom put his bag on the back seat, then climbed in the front and buckled up with a minimum of fuss.
The rental car pulled away from the impromptu airfield after a final wave from Sara. She turned back to Grissom.
"Nice people."
Grissom glanced at Sara before returning his gaze to the road.
"Nick certainly seems to think so."
Sara smirked.
"I'm assuming that you mean Larisa?"
Grissom nodded.
Sara smiled again, pleasantly distracted from her discomfort.
"Cool. She seemed nice."
"Got me here in one piece."
"I love her already."
Grissom shook his head once, the kind of gesture that was usually taken to mean 'what am I going to do with you'.
They travelled in companionable silence for several miles. The landscape was starkly beautiful and the sky was blue, looking for all the world as if there had never been a storm recently. Sara had not seen any vehicles, cars or otherwise pass them in either direction for several miles. She wondered if the isolation was one of the reasons that this area appealed to Grissom. They passed a sign indicating that the town of Rachel was ten miles ahead. Sara thought of pie.
Grissom stirred.
"You still haven't answered my earlier question."
His hands tightened briefly on the wheel, but he consciously made them relax again.
Sara looked at Grissom, then out of the passenger window, before turning back to her husband. She looked slightly sheepish but sounded a little defiant.
"Yeah, well. Mea Culpa, most grievously. It was stupid, foolish, idiotic, blah blah...I just needed to get away to think, which I did do. It was useful."
Grissom looked incredulous.
"Useful! It was 'incredibly dangerous' is what it was! Why the hell did you come out all this way? What was wrong with the hotel?"
Sara shifted in her seat.
"Nothing, I guess. I never went there. I wanted to go to the cabin to get…to find…to see if I could…"
She broke off, unwilling to risk Grissom laughing at her foolishness. She stared back out of the window. There was a long silence.
Grissom thought hard about the need to be 'someplace' and why he would have gone up to the cabin on his own. The last time he – they - had been there, had been wonderful. To have that time over again…he had a sudden flash of inspiration.
"You wanted to see if you could regain something of what we found there together."
Sara's head whipped around to face him, her astonishment plain.
"How did you know..?"
Grissom shrugged, not moving his eyes from the front.
"Educated guess."
He wanted to leave it at that, but he felt that he owed her the whole truth now.
"But also because I would have done the same thing for the same reason."
There was no answer from Sara, but Grissom felt her hand come to rest on his thigh. When he looked at her he was shocked to see tears sliding silently down her face. He checked his mirrors – not that he expected to see anything behind him - to see if it was safe to pull off the road, then looked at Sara again.
"Sara? Honey, what is it?"
Sara waved her free hand vaguely, then wiped her cheeks.
"Nothing. It's okay. Just stupid hormones. Ignore me."
Grissom pulled over and stopped the car. Crying women were not his forte, but at least he could be practical. He searched his pockets for a paper tissue, found a screwed up but unused one and handed it over.
Sara wiped her face again. When she had finished, she looked at Grissom. She could tell that he felt a little uncomfortable with her tears. She had never felt quite so naked in front of anyone for a long time. Her smile was tremulous.
"It's just…all been one helluva week. Call it relieved happy tears and let's move on, okay?"
"So long as that's all it is." Grissom looked at her, then reached out a hand to smooth a strand of hair off her face. He allowed his finger to trace over the soft damp skin of her cheek.
"There is no shame in reaching out to someone else. You have taught me that it's not a weakness to admit that there are times when you don't want to deal with something alone."
Sara smile wobbled, so Grissom released his belt and pulled her into his arms as best he could safely do around the bump. Sara's voice was muffled against his shoulder.
"Thanks. You seem to have acquired the knack of being there when I need you most."
Grissom closed his eyes as he held Sara, breathing in the scent of her hair and the warm familiar smell of her perfume. They were silent for a time and peacefulness settled over Grissom. Keeping his eyes closed, he started speaking softly.
"While you have been away, I have also been doing some soul searching." He felt Sara stiffen slightly, and soothed her with his hand. He assumed that she was surprised. " I used to think that the path of my life was pretty much mapped out. I knew what I was, what I was not, and where I was going. Now when I think about taking that journey without you, I think how meaningless it would be. I would not even want to start it. You are my heart Sara. The breath in my lungs."
Grissom unexpectedly felt Sara flinch; his eyes opened and he moved away from her to try to see her face – to try and see what she was thinking.
Sara could have wept with frustration. The words she so desperately wanted to hear and she was barely able to enjoy them. Her right hand clutched at her seatbelt as she tried to sit upright. Her eyes were wide with mute apprehension as she looked at Grissom. He looked at her, becoming alarmed.
"What is it?"
"I think my waters just broke."
Grissom looked at her with stunned incomprehension before he blurted,
"But you can't! The car's a rental!"
TBC