SLOW BURN

~ Chapter 8 ~

Levering her leather work boots off, Sara tugged both socks free, wriggled her freshly liberated toes and sighed in relief. A brazen 6am ram raid at a liquor store had taken the better part of four hours to process and, with brick dust, glass shards and wood splinters covering almost every surface, she'd been forced to work the entire thing on her feet, an action both her lower legs and back were now paying the price for.

"Hey." Standing in the doorway, Catherine checked her watch before smiling happily at the younger woman. "I thought you'd have been gone long ago."

"Given the mess the morons left behind I'm surprised I'm not still there." Balling up her socks, Sara shoved them into one of the boots and placed the lot on the floor of her open locker before rubbing her knuckles roughly against her lumbar spine. "But I think it was worth it; with the amount of fingerprints I pulled out of both the store and the pickup, we ought to be able to identify all of them."

"That's great." Entering the room fully, Catherine took a seat beside her on the bench. "I'm just sorry you were the only one available when the call came in; I was hoping to get you out of here on time this morning especially since I know you didn't sleep well yesterday."

"Grissom called you?" Sara glared at her indignantly. "He had absolutely no right to-"

"Hold up," Catherine raised her hand to stop the tirade. "Grissom never called me, he didn't have to; I could see how tired you were the minute you walked through the door last night." She chuckled at the sudden look of remorse that flashed across her friend's face. "And if there's one thing I remember vividly about working this job whilst pregnant it's how easy it is to keep pushing through that tiredness until, one day, it hits you like a freight train and that is something that is not good for you and it's definitely not good for that baby you're carrying." She cocked her head towards Sara's midriff. "How's our little friend in there doing?"

"Good," Sara automatically placed her hand over her stomach as her mouth curled up into a smile. "Well, great actually; according to the last scan, everything is just as it should be and, according to the app on my phone, he or she is about the size of a papaya." Her smile morphed into a delighted grin. "Gil actually managed to feel some kicks yesterday."

"I bet that made his day." Pulling open her own locker, Catherine reached in and extracted her purse. "I, um, don't suppose he's said anything to you, has he?" She glanced at Sara. "About the offer I made, I mean."

"Days supervisor?" Sara frowned. "I thought Richardson had decided to stick around."

"Only for another couple of months and considering what it took to convince him to do that, I really don't think I'll be able to get another extension out of him." Closing her locker door, Catherine fixed the younger woman with a determined glare. "I want your husband, Sara."

"Well, you never were one to beat around the bush, were you, Cath?" More than a little amused by the comment, Sara bit back a grin. "And there I was thinking Heather Kessler was my only competition."

"I meant for the lab and you know it." Catherine sighed in exasperation. "At this particular moment in time, I'm not considering anyone else for the job; I want Grissom back at the lab and I want him there as supervisor of Days." She looked almost imploringly towards Sara. "And I'm hoping I can get you to help with that; he must have spoken to you about it."

"Sure he did," Sara agreed as she pulled out a pair of black Birkenstocks and slipped her swollen feet into them. "But that was weeks ago when you first brought it up with him; I, honestly, can't remember him saying anything about it since then."

"Which means what?" She shrugged.

"That he's either still mulling it over, which I think is unlikely considering he never mentioned it again or he essentially dismissed it from the outset." Softening her voice somewhat, Sara shrugged. "I told him when we discussed it that if he wants to take the job I'd back him one hundred percent but I really don't think he does; he's essentially his own boss now, Cath, I'm really not sure he'd want to go back to being someone else's."

"It kills me to know that all that knowledge and experience is going to waste while he wanders aimlessly around the damned desert." Pushing her locker door closed, Catherine rolled her eyes in exasperation. "The lab needs him, Sara; we need him."

"He doesn't wander aimlessly, he's actually working while he's out there, Catherine and it's something he enjoys doing." Grabbing her purse, Sara rummaged in it for her car keys. "He's fitter and healthier than he has been in years, he's certainly more relaxed and, best of all, he manages to leave his work behind in the office when he's finished for the day which is something he never got to do when he worked here." Leaning back again, she sighed. "Look, if the lab truly needed him, I have absolutely no doubt that he'd drop everything and be wherever it is you want him to be but I think that would only be on a consultancy basis not as a supervisor. I simply can't see him wanting to return to a part of his life that he was more than ready to give up when he did." She shook her head. "Not now; not with Ben in the picture and not…" She placed her hand lightly on top of her stomach. "With this one on the way.

"So, you're essentially telling me to forget it." There was no mistaking the disappointment in the older woman's voice and, pushing to her feet, Sara felt the need to offer her a little bit of hope.

"I'm not saying that because it's not my place to say it." Jingling her keys lightly in her hand, she checked her watch before looking up with a gentle smile. "The only person that can put you out of your misery on this is Grissom so he's the one you really need to speak to, not me." She edged towards the door. "In my opinion, the answer is probably going to be no but it wouldn't be the first time that man's surprised me so, who knows, Cath, maybe you stand a chance." Pulling the door open, Sara glanced back one final time. "But, if I were you, I really wouldn't get my hopes up."

"So, Sara's alright?" Pulling his eyes momentarily off Ben and his unsteadily growing Duplo tower, Jim glanced back over his shoulder as he spoke.

"Sara's fine." With a mug of piping hot coffee in one hand and an open juice box in the other, Grissom exited the kitchen and carefully made his way across to the large sectional sofa that dominated the living room. "She managed to get another couple of hours sleep before heading out last night and promised me she was good to go." Placing the mug on the coffee table in front of Brass, he shrugged. "I'd just like to get these damned dreams under control, that's all; knowing this is probably going to be her one and only pregnancy, I want her to be able to relax and enjoy it and not spend it working herself up into a nervous wreck because of nightmares."

"They're a pretty common phenomena after something like an abduction though," Jim reasoned as he picked up his drink and took a sip. "And, if I remember correctly, pregnant women do get weird dreams."

"True," Grissom conceded as, juice box still in hand, he took a seat. "But from what I've read, most of those nightmares are centred on the baby and Sara's aren't." He shrugged. "We're all put in danger to some extent but I seem to be the one that cops the brunt of it; I've been killed in every single one.

"Ah, so the real concern you have is that you think she wants you dead." Jim grinned playfully. "You do know that the vast majority of wives start to think that way after a while, don't you?"

"I don't think we're quite at that stage yet." Completely unappreciative of his friend's attempt at humor, Grissom decided a change of subject was in order. "Ben, you want your apple juice?"

Instantly losing interest in his blocks, the little boy pushed himself to his feet and scrambled the half dozen steps to his father.

"Gova?" Eyes bright with hope, he took the small carton of juice and wrapped his lips around the protruding straw.

"In about…" Grissom glanced at his watch. "… ten minutes, okay? You go and sit down and have your drink and I'll let you know when it's time for your show."

"Up?" With both hands tightly around the carton, Ben raised his elbows in the hope of a lift only to have his father shake his head.

"Uh-uh, you spill that on here and we're both going to get it." Pointing towards the Duplo, Grissom urged the little boy forward. "Finish it over there and then come back and I'll put the TV on for you, okay?"

"Gova?" Jim watched with amusement as Ben followed the instructions, carefully carrying the juice box back to his blocks and lowering himself to the floor beside them. "That's a new one on me."

"Sesame Street," Grissom explained with a somewhat sheepish smile. "It's his favorite program at the moment and Grover's his favorite character so, when we're at home, that's what we watch."

"I remember doing that with Ellie when she was about that age," Jim chuckled. "Although, if I remember correctly, she was into Big Bird; I always preferred Oscar myself."

"Now there's a surprise." Biting back a sarcastic grin, Grissom reached for the contract he'd not long ago signed. "You think Sara will be okay with this?"

"Why wouldn't she?" Brass frowned.

"I don't know." Grissom rubbed his hand roughly along his jaw line. "I'm just a little worried that she'll think I'm going overboard." He shrugged as he reread the contract. "I mean, she's expecting a beefed-up alarm system, sure, but hard-wired cameras outside plus a couple of wireless ones in the house, window and door alarms all over the place, twenty-four hour monitoring-"

"If you ask me, as an ex-cop, that's a damned good setup to go with," Jim told him honestly. "There are times that you can't be too safe, you know and Sara's been on the job long enough to know that so I'm sure she'll be fine." Movement caught his eye and he watched as Ben got to his feet again and placed his now-empty juice box on the coffee table. "Besides, when it comes to ensuring your family's safety, there's no such thing as going overboard."

"Up." Having returned to stand in front of his father, Ben raised both arms determinedly in the air.

"Okay, up you come." Reaching down, Grissom slipped his hands beneath the toddler's arms and hoisted him onto his lap before grabbing the television remote from the back of the sofa and pointing it at the wall-mounted unit. "There you go," he said as the screen came to life with the last five minutes of Splash and Bubbles. "This will finish soon and then you're all set, okay?"

Instantly enraptured by the animated fish swimming around on the TV, Ben absently nodded his agreement, a sight that made Jim smile. "Well, I guess that's him settled for the duration."

"You know," Grissom commented candidly. "I used to frown on parents that used television as a babysitter but, I have to admit, sometimes it's the easiest way to keep them quiet and occupied."

"Oh, yeah; I remember that from my parenting days as well." He cocked his head towards the contract once more. "I've got another couple of security suggestions you might want to consider."

"Such as?"

"Change your cars," Brass stated simply. "Both of them; we know he knows the Nissan and I think it's safe to say he's aware of the Prius as well." He shrugged. "Especially since Sara's hung on to it so long. Trade them both in and go for a popular make in a color that'll blend in on the road; the harder you can make it for someone to follow you, the better off you're going to be."

"Makes sense, I guess," Grissom grudgingly agreed. "The Prius was going to go anyway; as much as Sara loves it, she's admitted herself that it's not going to be practical with two kids in the backseat." He sighed. "I'd be sorry to lose the Murano though; it's really not that old."

"You'll get a good price for it then," Jim concluded with a smile. "There's no point, security-wise, of getting rid of one vehicle and not the other. And, since we're more or less on the subject," he cocked his chin towards the front of the house. "How long is the landscaper going to have that dumpster blocking your driveway?

"Another day or two I think; most of the back yard has been cleared now, there's just one more corner to do and the old pool fence to be dismantled and then it'll be gone." Grissom frowned. "Why?"

"Because, as soon as it is, I want the two of you to make sure that every time you come home you drive straight into the garage and stay inside the car until the door comes down to block the view from the street," He explained. "And do the same, in reverse, when you're leaving; I want to make it as hard as possible for someone to actually associate you with this house."

"She's going to love that one," Grissom commented dryly.

"You asked for ideas and I'm giving them to you." Jim shrugged good-naturedly. "I'm not going to make you implement them."

"I know," he acknowledged. "But we probably will; it is for the best after all."

"Oh and you need to get yourself a gun." Brass pre-empted the angry interruption he knew was about to come by carrying on without pause. "I know how you feel about the things, Gil but, seriously, for your family's sake, you're going to have to arm yourself with something and, even though you hate firearms, you always were one of the best shots around." He softened his tone a little in an attempt to win his friend over with a little logic. "Look, Sara has her service weapon but, if she's at work so is her gun and that leaves you with little to no protection." He nodded as if to hammer home his point. "And we can have a word with Conrad too and see about fast-tracking a concealed carry permit; that way, there's less chance of you being caught out unprepared."

He was expecting an outright refusal or perhaps even an argument but what he got instead was a steady stare and, eventually, a slow resigned nod.

"You're right," Grissom sighed heavily. "And, to be honest, it's something that I've already been thinking about." He gently ruffled Ben's hair. "I mean, it's not like we don't already have a precedence, half the time there's a gun in the house anyway." He shrugged. "I guess it makes sense to make sure there's one here all the time."

"Good." Exhaling in relief, Brass smiled. "That's the one I was really expecting a fight on." Reaching across, he clapped Grissom on the shoulder. "Now, since I've spent the better part of the morning doing you a favor, how about I get one in return?"

"Of course," Grissom nodded his agreement. "Just let me know what you need and I'm all yours."

"Okay…" Jim's smile widened. "I need a best man."

"Excuse me?" Grissom's eyes widened in surprise.

"You heard me," Brass chuckled at the look of incredulity on his friend's face. "Helen and I went out to dinner last night and somewhere between the main course and dessert I ended up proposing and she was silly enough to say yes." He grinned in delight. "We're going to get married next month."

A/N: Thanks as always goes to SylvieT for the beta of this chapter.