ROAD TRIP
Part Two
Spoiler: In Scuba Doobie-Do Gil says he knows a little about plumbing.
"This is 92.7KLGA, with the best music in Humboldt county! A word of advice for travelers along the highway! Streams in the Ruby Mountains and East Humboldt Range are running down due to snow melt and recent rainfall! It's pouring out there, so -"
Grissom abruptly turned the radio off. If he'd turned it off to drown Greg's nonstop ranting, thenhe'd miscalculated: that bit of news only added up to the young man's long list of complaints.
"Oh, great." Greg said sarcastically, "That means it's going to rain all the way! Not only are we driving right back to the place where we started this damn trip, now we'll have to do it under a deluge. We've already lost three hours! Three hours -"
Gil had finally had enough.
"Look, I said I was sorry," he said testily, "What more do you expect me to do? Drop down on my knees and beg for forgiveness?"
"Dropping down on your knees would be a good idea," Greg replied, "Except that you're always complaining about how much they hurt."
Whoa! That was a low blow. (Uh, funny choice of words. 'Blow,' is exactly what Gil had had in mind a couple of weeks ago, when he tried to kneel and couldn't because his knees hurt. Greg had been very sympathetic at the time, but he obviously hadn't forgotten.)
And Gil was really stung by the comment.
"It's happened only once!" he retorted, "And it was right after I crawled for miles and miles in an old mine, searching for a body -"
"You wouldn't have had to crawl for miles and miles if you had taken the shortest route!"
"I took the longest because the evidence -"
"Always the damn evidence -" Greg muttered.
" -pointed that way." Gil finished. "And besides, I found a body!"
"But it wasn't the one we were looking for!"
"That's not the point!"
"Yes it is!" Greg replied angrily, "You ignored everybody's warnings, including mine! But then, you love to put yourself in danger, don't you? Just yesterday, you did it all over again. Volunteering to do the job of the Humboldt CSI supervisor, just because that fat-ass was too chicken to go searching for a body in a basement-"
"Greg -"
"You knew the place was flooded, I told you it was flooded, but you just had to -"
"There was evidence to collect," Gil said calmly, "There was larvae activity; it was a job for an Entomologist-"
"But you were trapped eight hours down there!" Greg retorted, "Do you remember that? And all because you had to do things your way! Why couldn't you let somebody else do the job?"
"Somebody else would have been trapped too." Grissom replied reasonably.
"So what? It wouldn't have been you!"
Grissom turned sharply, and Greg looked away, as if embarrassed by his outburst.
And all of a sudden, I understood why Greg couldn't wait to leave Humboldt County: Gil had almost died there. And I realized something else, too: That Greg's anger had its roots in the love he felt for Gil.
Now I finally got it…
I only hoped that Gil would get it too.
I glanced at Grissom and then I glanced at Greg, wondering who would make the first move towards a reconciliation. Greg was looking outside, studiously ignoring Grissom, whowas glancing at him now and then -probably wondering what to say to make things right.
But Greg's tirade wasn't over yet.
"I don't even know why you made me come to this seminar," he muttered bitterly, "I already knew half the stuff they taught, and the other half I could have learned watching you, or Sara, or Nick. You didn't need my help, and you didn't take my advice! It's been one shitty situation after another -"
Mercifully, Phelps intervened just then. He motioned Grissom to stop in a heavily wooded area. Grissom eased the SUV behind the patrol and rolled his window down.
The trees offered some protection to officer Phelps, who strolled down to talk to Gil.
"Well," Phelps said, " You're all set. All you have to do is turn to the right and keep driving until you find the road sign. A big board," he smirked,"Green, with white words telling you where to go. Shouldn't miss it. But maybe I should come along with you, just to make sure you don't get lost again-"
Grissom seemed surprised at the guy's patronizing tone, but he didn't say anything. He certainly wasn't offended; I know my Gil -he was probably fascinated by the fact that a cop would want to belittle some perfect strangers.
But Greg wasn't as forgiving. He leant forward, forcing Gil to sit back.
"Hey!" he protested. "Do you know who you're talking to?" he asked hotly, "This is Dr. Gil Grissom, and he came here as an honored guest! He even put his life in danger while solving a case for the Humboldt PD!"
Phelps scoffed.
"Well, if he's such a hot shot, then how come he didn't notice he had the wrong map?"
"Because he trusted the good people of Humboldt to give him a good map!" he said, "But it's obvious that nobody knows a good map from a bad map in this hell-hole -"
"Now, you wait a minute," Phelps said angrily, but Grissom quickly leant forward, effectively blocking Phelps' view of Greg.
"Thank you, Officer; we're set to go," he said, using that quiet, soothing tone of his -the one that disarms even the most hardened jerk. "I'll make sure the local authorities know what a big help you were today."
He didn't move until Phelps reluctantly returned to his car.
I thought Greg would continue his tirade once they were alone again,but to my surprise, he remained silent. He simply stared through the side window, as if there was really something to see besides the falling rain.
Gil didn't speak either; his focus was on the road ahead.
Fortunately, there were enough noises to fill in the quiet: crashing thunder, steady rain, and the maddening screech of the windshield wipers.
Suddenly, Gil spoke.
"You were right," he said quietly. "We were lost and I didn't listen. I trusted a useless map over you."
Greg kept staring outside.
"It's one of my flaws, I suppose" Gil continued, "Trusting the written word over someone's intuition."
Gil took a deep breath, and then he added, "Sometimes, I act as if I cared more about a case than about the people I love-" he faltered a little, "Sometimes I take too much pride in the work that I do, and then -"
"That's three flaws," Greg muttered.
Grissom smiled ruefully.
"I have lots of flaws," he admitted. "Some of them, I didn't even know about. I mean, do I really wet all my fingers when I turn the pages of a book?"
Greg reluctantly glanced at Gil.
"You do." Greg said quietly. He looked away again. "And I leave hair all over the sink," he admitted. "I know it will clog the drain, but I keep leaving it there. I don't know why-"
He stopped. He shook his head, "No, that's not true; I do know why I keep doing it."
Grissom glanced at him.
"You do?"
"Uh, huh," Greg nodded reluctantly. "I do it because you always fix it for me. I've, hum, never told you this, but seeing you do the plumbing is kind of a fantasy for me."
Grissom's eyebrows shot up in surprise.
"That's your fantasy?"
"Gil The Plumber," Greg shrugged. "It's hot."
Grissom smiled as he drove. Greg smiled as he stared outside.
They were smiling, at least. Once they started smiling at each other, then I'd know for sure that things would be all right.
Gil spoke again.
"There's something else you were right about, by the way." he said, "You didn't need to attend this seminar. I just wanted you to come along. I thought it would do us good."
Greg seemed appalled.
"Do us good?" he repeated incredulously.
Gil nodded.
"I thought it would be like going away on a vacation." he said, "You said it yourself: We hardly ever go out together. I thought this would be a good chance for us to- I don't know. Get to know each other better, I suppose."
Well, at least that last part had come true: They knew each other better now, all right. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing remained to be seen.
Greg seemed moved by Gil's words; he visibly gulped.
He still wasn't ready to cave in, though. A full minute passed before he spoke again.
"Look," he said, "I'm sorry if I sounded like an ungrateful SOB, but the thing is-"
"No, you were right." Grissom said, "The trip wasn't what I expected, either. I thought we'd be able to take in the sights, visit some museums -"
"We didn't even sleep together the whole time we were there." Greg muttered.
"We didn't even eat together -" Grissom added.
"That's what I'm saying," Greg replied, smiling a little.
Grissom was going to say something, when the steering wheel shook in his hands. He grabbed it frantically.
"What is it?" Greg asked.
"It's acting up again." he said. He glanced at Greg, "What did the mechanic say?"
"Uh?"
"You told the mechanic about the problem we had on our way here, right?" Grissom said, "What did he say?"
Greg didn't say anything, but he didn't need to: guilt was written all over his face.
Grissom steered the car towards a clearing and then he turned the engine off. Then, he turned his full attention on Greg.
"You talked to the mechanic, didn't you?" he asked, but it looked like he already knew what the answer to that question was going to be.
"Hum. Well..." Greg hesitated.
"Oh. Great." Grissom glared, "You didn't ask the mechanic to check it out?"
"Look, I just thought I could-"
"You thought?" Grissom asked sarcastically, "I doubt that! Damn it, Greg! We're in trouble, now!"
"I can fix it." Greg said quickly, "Just open the trunk; I'll go out and-" he opened the door.
"What? You can't go out there! It's pouring!"
"It's ok!" Greg said, "I can fix it, Gil. Papa Olaf used to have the same trouble all the time, and my sister and I fixed it -"
And then he was out, waving at Gil, urging him to open the trunk.
Gil did. And then he got out himself.
After a moment, they came back inside. They were wet through.
"Gil, I can fix it." Greg was saying.
"Shut up, Greg." Gil said quietly. He turned to the back seat and picked up an old gym bag he keeps there -his emergency kit. He keeps things like beef jerky and bottles of water in there, but there's also extra clothing. He pulled a couple of towels and handed one to Greg. Then he picked up the cell phone and punched a number.
Greg frowned.
"Who're you calling to?"
"Road Patrol," Gil said, "I'll ask them to send Officer Phelps."
"Not that guy again!" Greg exclaimed.
Gil ignored him. He made his call, and specifically requested the aid of officer Andrew Phelps. Then, he hung up and started drying himself.
Greg was still looking at him.
"Why did you ask for that guy?"
"Because I don't want you to catch pneumonia." he said simply. Then he smiled, "Phelps is going to patronize us, I know. He's going to laugh and point out every little thing we did wrong. Then he'll tow our vehicle and take us to some motel. He will do everything for us, just to dwell on the fact that two hot shots from Las Vegas couldn't manage on their own."
"And you're ok with that?" Greg asked testily.
"Why not?" Grissom smiled, "As long as he does the job, who cares what he thinks of us?" he reached for Greg's hand, "As long as you're here with me,nothing else matters."
Greg rolled his eyes.
"Oh, God, that's the mushiest thing you've ever said to me."
"No, it isn't." Gil smiled, "I can do worse than that and you know it."
He can, by the way. You wouldn't believe the sweet-nothings those two mutter after the bed-banging stops.
Greg took a deep breath. He seemed to relax for the first time that day. When Gil tugged at his hand, he didn't resist; he leant into my Gil's embrace. They hugged tightly for quite a while before any of them spoke.
"I'm sorry." Greg whispered.
"Shhhh. Todo está bien." Gil muttered, "Te quiero, mi vida."
Greg chuckled.
"Sneaky bastard," he whispered, "You know I can't resistyou when you talk in Spanish."
"Lo sé ."
And then they started kissing.
Eeeeew.
Humans think kissing's very appealing, but I find it disturbing. Very disturbing.
I can never watch. I mean, when we spiders pour saliva on something, it's to eat it, ok? And I mean that literally. So having those two up close, doing that...
It was just too much.
I tried to turn my back on them, but it didn't work; they kept moving and intruding into my line of vision.
Finally, I had to resort to violent means. I started banging my limbs against the cage, and when that failed, I started throwing pieces of dead fly carcasses at them, hoping to get their attention... to no avail.
Hum, guys? I cried, I'm right here, for God's sake! I can't bear to see you suck each other's face like that! Please, guys, I'm begging you! You don't want Officer Phelps to find you like this, do you?
Stop it! Guys? Guys! Guys!
I mean it-
THE END
