A/N Shout out to my trusty betas, Onxy, Michelle and Sassy.
Gil looked around the patio. It was people in varying types of medical garb. Nurses in pink and green and blue scrubs. Doctors in blue and green with yellow strings tying them in place. Various technicians with patterned renditions of Sponge Bob or Strawberry Shortcake. Trauma surgeons sucked down double espressos, grateful for a breather between multi car pile ups and train wrecks.
He smiled as Warrick jogged out of the emergency room entrance and crossed the street. His mind wandered to the possibility of Hope being a doctor. When had he become one of those parents whose ridged dreams were cast onto unsuspecting children? He told himself to be conscious of that. He would be happy as long as Hope was happy.
Warrick called a waitress, a tiny grizzled woman, that he wanted the usual. She shot back in a low Russian accent, "Dr. Warrick, ain't nothing usual about you."
Another woman, this one closer to Grissom's age and devoid of accent, appeared and took Grissom's order. Burger, rare. French fries. Coke with a twist of lemon.
Warrick raised an eyebrow. "I thought I was the only one that snuck heart attack food away from the house."
Grissom shook his head. "Nicky hides potato chips in his desk drawer at work and Brass and the boys hide out in the park eating McDonald's. They told on him once and they didn't get McDonald's for a month. They haven't told since."
Warrick steadied his gaze and tried to figure out what he was going to say. He loved Gil Grissom. He loved and respected him despite his recent moral lapse. They'd all made mistakes, and Grissom had never stopped believing in any of them.
"You're flying fast and loose Gris," he said after the woman left.
Grissom shrugged and sipped on his soda. "I am not seeing Eva."
"Why did you have lunch with her?"
Grissom bided his time and took another drink. "I don't know. I don't know. I thought I could talk to her and make her stop calling me."
"So you saw her face to face so you could stop her from calling you on the phone?"
"I couldn't think of anything else to do," he admitted lifting one side of his whiskers with a jaunty sad grin.
"Sure you can. You can figure out those genius level cross words. You could figure out how to fight a life and death illness. You even put together a bike on Christmas Eve with no instructions."
Grissom didn't speak as Warrick continued his diatribe. "You could change your number. You could block her number or you could just ignore her. Why did you have to talk to her or see her?"
Grissom couldn't pretend that he hadn't thought of it. He was doing one stupid thing after another and he couldn't seem to stop.
"You think you're the only man that has been tempted? Hell, we all get tempted. Sometimes we have a close call."
"You guys don't seem to be having this problem. Just me," Gil replied in a quiet voice.
As he said the words, a khaki colored woman approached the table. She wore scrubs like the rest of the patio assemblage. Hers were pale pink and covered in minuscule green hearts. Long black hair was pulled into a severe ponytail. What looked to be size nine feet were shielded from infectious materials by rubber surgical togs that matched the rest of the ensemble.
"Well, fancy meeting you here, Warrick."
Warrick snorted and gave a tight grin. "Yes, fancy meeting me in the only place I have time to get a decent meal away from my house. Who would have thunk it?"
The woman shrugged good-naturedly and turned to Gil. "Ashleigh Dupree."
"Gil Grissom," Grissom said as he watched Warrick's entire demeanor change. Gone was the open and concerned friend. In his place, a cool ramrod straight scientist. Grissom's eyes went back to the attractive woman. She was a looker. A looker that spelled trouble. She was one of those clients that sauntered in at the beginning of detective novels. She wore a pink ensemble that spelled innocent. But there was nothing innocent about those curves and those lips.
"Nice to meet you, Dr. Grissom. I have read a few of your books."
"There are only three," Grissom intoned trying not to draw the young woman into conversation.
"Well then, I guess I have read them all." Ashleigh Dupree showed even white teeth.
Grissom nodded, following Warrick's example of non-engagement.
"We are talking about some family stuff, Ash. See you back at the hospital."
She stepped away from the table, the rubber shoes making no sound. "Only I don't see you anymore, do I?"
Warrick turned away and worked on his ice tea. Ashleigh left. Grissom raised his eyebrow.
"Trouble with a capital "T". Fine, smart as hell, but trouble. That girl has been throwing her drawers at me since she started at the hospital. I thought I could handle it."
"And?"
"I couldn't handle it."
"What happened?"
"Nothing. I told my wife."
"You what!"
"I told my wife." Warrick said as plates of food were placed in front of them. The burgers were probably already cooked when they ordered.
Grissom couldn't imagine telling Sara he was attracted to another woman. She had worked too hard on them, sacrificed too much.
"You know that death do us part, best friend, trust her with your life stuff? I figured if I could trust her with my life and my trouble, I could trust her with my dick getting hard over some woman that wasn't half as interesting as Cath is."
"I don't think Sara would take kindly to me telling her that my dick got hard over another woman," Grissom snorted.
"She let you back in the house after she caught you with your arms around another woman. Telling her couldn't be worse."
Grissom played with a greasy stick of potato. "It doesn't seem to be the same thing. What happened when you told Catherine?"
"We talked about it. We figured out what it was that had me in a tale spin. Why was this woman different from other women?"
"Did you figure it out?"
Warrick nodded. "We did."
"Okay?"
"From the beginning it's not been easy being an interracial couple. It never is. No matter where you live or what races you are. Black women - black people - sometimes they don't like seeing me with Cath."
"Oh?"
"I am straight. I go to work everyday. I love my grandmother. I haven't ever been in jail on a felony. People can feel a great sense of betrayal when they see I chose to marry a white woman. I don't think it would be so bad if Cath was a person of color but I went all out and got myself a white girl. Me, the doctor married to this older, ex-stripper, white woman. From the beginning, Ashleigh hadn't been as overt in her disapproval. It was very subtle. She made me feel like I had something to prove with her. I don't know if she was aiming for me to leave my wife. But I think the fact that I would stray with her would have been enough."
"Ah. I don't know - I don't know why I did this."
"Probably should try and figure it out."
OOOOOOOO
Sara watched her husband for several minutes.
He had gone from morbid and sullen to antsy and jittery. It was a bit like when he was struck with a brilliant idea. The next entomological breakthrough. He had chopped most of the vegetables for their dinner but he was still casting about for something else to keep him occupied while the vegetable stew cooked.
"Maybe I will whip up a little gelato," he said, rummaging for the ice cream maker.
"That would be nice," Sara replied. "How was lunch with Warrick?" Sara asked.
"Good," he said sincerely. "It was nice to talk with someone that's not mad at me."
"I am not mad at you," Sara shot back.
He looked up from his work, his blue eyes soft and serious. "I have no idea why not."
Sara thought about this for some time as she watched him move back and forth. "It's not productive. Anger doesn't get you anywhere."
"It might make you feel better," he said softly.
"I don't feel bad," Sara sighed.
"I guess I was projecting."
"Guess so," Sara mumbled.
As he stirred the ice cream mix over a low heat he gave her a sad smile. "You are more beautiful today than when I met you."
"I doubt that. I was 23; my skin was milky and unlined. I hadn't had any babies. And my ass nearly touched my shoulder blades."
"You were stunning. But this," he gestured with his free hand. "This is better. The lines are better. The child bearing hips are better. Everything is better. It's the same reason people are crazier about Lauren Hutton than ever before. Your bone structure. Your carriage. It's timeless."
Sara blushed and it pleased him. "Then why?" she finally said after he had poured the mixture into the mixer. Once he was done he turned on the soundless machine.
"It's not about you, Sara. It was never about you. It's about me and my deficiencies."
"I know that."
"Good."
He walked to where she sat at the kitchen table. He pulled up his usual chair and moved closer to Sara. The baby jumped a little at the sound of the chair moving across the floor. Grissom caught the movement through light material of Sara's robe.
"You guys okay?"
"He doesn't like harsh sounds. The fire alarm went off the other day and he was really upset."
Grissom's lips went to her belly. He kissed the bump. "I don't like harsh sounds, either. I thought it was because my mom was deaf. Guess it's just the way we are, huh, big guy."
Sara's hand touched soft steel gray curls. "I hope he looks like you."
Grissom surprised himself with the next words. "Me too. I used to not like my looks."
"Why?"
"I don't know. They seemed to be a distraction. When I was younger, I would walk into a room and women would be buzzing and men became jealous and no one ever listened to what I was saying. I didn't know what to do about it."
"You never told me this," Sara said.
"Probably because it sounds arrogant. But after a awhile you realize it's just a fact."
"The first time I saw you in the hallway of the science library, you had on a blue shirt. Your hair was mostly dark then."
Grissom gave a closed mouth grin.
"I felt like I had been hit by lightening. I had heard you were gorgeous. But, well, you were - GORGUES."
"I was so glad you saw me that day."
"You were?"
"Yeah, it was my favorite shirt. Catherine bought it for me. After I wore it once to a lecture, all I could hear was people talking about my eyes. I hardly wore it. I wanted people to listen to me. I only wore it when I was dressing casually, for comfort. But it was the only thing I had. The airline lost my luggage."
They smiled and kissed softly for a while. Relief coursed through Sara. Something normal. Something them.
"I miss you," She said.
"I miss me, too."
"Let's work on getting you back."
His forehead touched hers and they nodded together.
OOOOOOOOO
"Birdwing Forensics." Sara worked hard to sound pleasant and professional. She was never going to finish their billing or the paperwork or any of the dozen or so things she needed to get done before Grissom and Hope came back from running errands.
"Shalom, Dr. Grissom," came the familiar voice.
"I thought I told you to call me Sara," Sara said softly into the phone. It was Rachel Haza, the director of the international adoption agency Sara and Grissom contacted when they were considering adopting. They had filled out some preliminary paperwork, had a vague cursory home visit. She had forgotten to nix the process after she found out she was pregnant.
"I need your help."
"Aw…Rachel, I forgot to call you."
"What?"
"We aren't going to continue with the adoption process."
"You aren't?" her normally serene voice filled with stress. "Oh dear. This is problematic."
"It is?"
"Well yes. Angelina Jolie adopting an Ethiopian child has been very helpful. We have families clamoring for the country's AIDS orphans."
"Okay…."
"Mostly the agencies we deal with have toddler age and under. They won't release some of the younger children until we can place the older ones."
"Rachel I don't think…"
"Just hear me out. Please. I understand that you can't take a child full time. But if you just offer a temporary fix to this one kid before interest wanes. We have a chance to place so many children. Children that didn't have a chance before."
Sara sighed and leaned back in her chair. She placed her free hand on her belly.
"This little boy… boys are never in as much demand as girls, which is problem number one. This little boy is about a year old as near as we can tell. He lived in a small village on the outside of the capital city. Neighbors found him with his mother's dead body. She'd been dead for maybe 24 hours."
"AIDS?"
"Yes, but we don't see any sign of it in the boy right now."
"I wouldn't matter," Sara quickly assured her.
"The way they found him. It's as if he was meant for you two."
TBC