Disclaimer: Do you REALLY think I'm Jerry Bruckheimer? Nope, and I'm not CBS either, so I guess that means I don't own any of their characters. Rats!
A/N: I'm not really sure where this came from, but the muse grabbed me one night and wouldn't release me until I had served its purpose. I really hope you enjoy it and forgive any errors in spelling or grammer. I don't have a beta you see. Oh, and if you are waiting for a sequel to "Getting Red" don't give up hope, I do plan to write it still. This just distracted me first. Thanks to any of you who reviewed my past stories as well, I do live for reviews! Anyway, without further ado...
Coming In
Sara was soaking wet and shivering, but she stayed out in the storm anyway. Ever since she was young she had done this. Whenever a storm raged she could be found in the thick of it, taking its fury. It had started, she remembered, when she was seven or eight. She was walking home from school and the storm that had been building all day finally broke in a deluge all around her.
Her parents had told her they'd pick her up from school; they were going to go to a nice family restaurant for supper. They'd laugh, talk, and not shout even once. She had been excited all day, counting the minutes until school ended. The final bell rang and her school mates began to depart by bus or parent, but her parents were no where to be seen. She waited outside, her head held high. A boy whose name she had now forgotten, but whose face would forever be burned into her mind jeered at her. His childish voice accused that she was stupid and crazy, her parents wouldn't come; they didn't even like her. She had insisted that they would come. After all, they had promised.
Maybe they had forgotten, or maybe her mother had "fallen" or "tripped" and they were in the E.R. again. She didn't remember now, she just knew that her young heart had broken a little more that day. The buses had all left over an hour ago and the clouds were black over head, promising rain. So, with her head still held high she began to walk the nine blocks to her house with as much dignity as a heart-broken child could muster.
Not a block later she was soaked to the bone and a cold wind was whipping right through her light clothes. She had chosen an outfit that looked nice in anticipation of their supper rather than the warm outfits she usually wore when it threatened to rain. She scolded herself that she should have known better. Maybe the boy was right; maybe she was crazy and stupid.
A bolt of lightening streaked through the sky, lighting up the dark world for a second. The clap of thunder that followed was deep and angry sounding; she could feel the earth vibrate under her feet in response. She felt like bolting, but she wouldn't want anyone to think she was afraid of the lightening and its angry voice. She kept her head up, and her feet moving. No matter how the storm raged around her, she kept her same pace. No matter how close the lightening seemed or how angry the thunder called, her path never waivered.
Seven blocks later she was exhausted and so cold she could hardly walk because she was shivering so violently. She concentrated on her feet; if she could focus on something she wouldn't feel so cold. Left, right, left, right; she kept her eyes on her running shoes. She looked up ahead to get her bearings and was surprised to see a girl only a few years older than her standing out in the rain as well. This girl was standing on a small roofless deck, her eyes were closed and she was letting the rain flow over her out-stretched arms.
Just as Sara was coming up to the yard the door to the house opened and a warm light flowed out. A woman also flowed out, right into the rain. In her hands was a jacket.
As the woman approached the girl she called out, "Linda, what are you doing out here? You're soaked through, Honey! Come on inside before you catch your death! I'll make you a nice hot tea."
As she spoke the woman draped the coat and her arms around Linda's shoulders and ushered her inside. The door closed and the warm light was gone. Sara had never felt so abandoned and alone as she did at that moment. She had been given a glimpse of the love and caring some people were showered with and felt the lack of it in her life.
From that time on, whenever there was a storm, Sara could be found out in it. She wasn't sure why she always did, but each time she hoped that maybe someone would care enough to come and fetch her.
Things got worse at home. Finally her mother had had enough of being a punching bag and she hit back. Only her hit was much more lethal; her hand grasped a knife. She didn't even try to hide the fact that it was her; there would have been no point anyway. The neighbors all knew what went on in the house, why no one had tried to stop it was never known.
Sara was put into foster care. She was always in transit from that day on, not a lot of people wanted teens, and so it was "temporary placement" after "temporary placement". Some houses were kind, though hideously under-supervised and over filled. They would tell her that they had nothing against her when they passed her on, there were "just too many kids in need." Others she was taken from after her black eye and bruised arms were shown to the social worker. It didn't matter if they were kind and oblivious or irritable and impatient; no one ever came and gently brought her in from the storm.
She finally made it through high school and out of foster care. She went on to college. In college when she stood in the storm a friend might call from the window that she was an idiot and should come inside, but no one came out to get her even then. The whole campus seemed to think it was creepy and all sorts of stories began to circulate as to why she did it. She ignored the stories and the people who questioned her about it. She wasn't sure she could explain it anyway. College led to her much loved career in forensics, and the rest, as they say, is history.
So, here she was now; standing in a rare Vegas thunderstorm, shivering and soaked through yet again. She was deep in thought, contemplating the road that had brought her to the present. She was so consumed by the past that she didn't hear anyone approach. Sara gave a start as a jacket was placed around her shoulders and two strong arms were wrapped around her. Her back came in contact with the warm chest she had come to love so well. The warm Being lowered his lips to her ear and the heat from his breath, combined with the cold droplets that clung to his beard, caused a sensation so odd (in a good way), that she couldn't suppress a shiver.
"Sara, what are you doing out here? You're soaked to the bone, Honey. Come on inside, I know a great way to warm you up," said Gil playfully.
She turned in his arms and placed her right hand on his rain-soaked face as he raised said face from the spot by her ear. His hair was stuck in curls to his head and there was water dripping from his beard. He looked so adorable with a drop of rain hanging on the end of his nose she couldn't help but kiss it off. He didn't object in the least and pulled her closer for a real kiss.
"This is very nice and don't think I'm complaining," he said with a half smile as they finished their second or third kiss, "but this is really not as romantic as it always seems in the movies. I mean, I never object to a kiss from you, but it's freezing, and I don't know if you've noticed or not," here he lowered his lips to her ear again as though sharing a secret and his voice became almost a whisper, "but, it's raining... a lot."
Her grin stretched from ear to ear and she wondered how it was possible to love someone as much as she loved him. She reached up and planted a tiny peck on his lips before pouting slightly and saying, "Audrey Hepburn gets to kiss in the rain, why can't I?"
"You could," he soothed, "but you'd have to find Audrey first, and besides I get jealous when you kiss anyone else."
She smacked his chest and then sighed in mock defeat, "Alright, you win. I'll let you take me to our bedroom and try to figure out some way to warm me up."
"I'm sure I'll think of something," he teased; looking perplexed, "maybe a cup of tea?"
She laughed and knew she wouldn't need to stand out in the storm anymore. She was finally home; Gil had brought her in once and for all.
THE END
Allright, so maybe it was cheesy, but it's not my fault- blame the muse! Anyway I'd love to hear what you think about it, even if you didn't like it. Thanks for reading!