Title: Journey of the Lonely Whale: All at Sea (Part 1: Surprise)
Author: Lisa (ff: ljkwriting4life / twitter: lisa_james_85)
Rating: M. This story contains adult themes and strong sexual references (but it is not explicit).
Summary: Sara arranges a surprise for Gil, but at the end of the day he's the one who surprises her.
Notes: All at Sea is a four-part series of complementary stand-alone stories set between Immortality and CSI: Vegas. It is fourth in the JOTLW series and broadly follows Day One, Day Five, and Evolution (Month 12).
PART ONE: SURPRISE
Sara stood in the warm flush of the mid-morning sun beside the large concrete building and looked up at the blue sky while she held her phone to her ear. She leant back toward the building, bent her long leg, and pressed her right foot against the wall for balance. She looked down at the concrete path and grinned when she heard the phone begin to ring. He answered on the third ring.
"Good morning, dear." Gil's warm voice was full of quiet confidence and happiness.
"Happy birthday," Sara said slowly. She kept her face down so the people walking past her didn't see the breadth of her smile.
"Why, thank you," Gil quipped. He chuckled, then asked more seriously, "How's your day going?"
"Not too bad," she said. She looked back up and squinted at the sun as her smile disappeared. "Heading out to a scene soon, it could be a long one so I wanted to call before we go."
"Of course, I'm happy to hear from you."
"You still heading to that baseball game tonight?" Sara asked.
"I am. Seattle Mariners versus the San Francisco Giants. They tell me it's a sell-out."
"Sounds like a great way to spend your birthday," Sara said. She bit her bottom lip. "I'm sorry I'm not there, Gil."
"Don't be," he assured her. "You're working, it's what you have to do. Besides, I've got a full day planned. I'll go to the art museum, then lunch at the sculpture park and a walk along the water, then Chihuly, and I might even head up to the top of the Space Needle, enjoy the view."
"Playing tourist?" Sara asked with a chuckle. He had done those things before.
"Ah, the weather's good," he said. "The sun's out."
"Yeah, it's out here too," she agreed.
"It's always sunny in San Diego," he sang in a gentle voice, to a tune of his own making.
Sara grinned. She loved it when he did that.
"You're in a good mood today," she declared, as though it wasn't obvious.
"That I am, darlin'," he assured her. He paused, and in the silence between them Sara heard his enthusiasm deflate or soften over the phone. "I miss you though," he said quietly. "Every day."
Sara nodded and she looked at the ground again, this time to hide her tears.
"Me too," she said. She forced the smile back to her face. "But it sounds like you're going to have a very good day, as you should. Are you still all set to leave tomorrow? Is that the plan?"
"Indeed. I'll take off tomorrow after breakfast, and I'll be heading straight down the coast to meet you, I'll be there to pick you up. I'll have the tracker on so you know where I am, just in case."
Sara nodded. She was in San Diego to complete another stint at the crime lab, six weeks this time, and she still had one week left. It was necessary to do the hours to keep her certifications, to maintain even the possibility of returning to work in criminalistics and trace analysis in the future.
It had been more than four years since she last worked full-time at the Las Vegas Crime Lab, and she was nearly fifty and life had changed, dramatically, but she wasn't ready to let it go.
This was the fourth time she had returned to work in the lab, and her second consecutive visit without Gil at her side while he continued their marine research…and went to baseball games.
"I'm looking forward to it," Sara said.
"You haven't told me much about the cases you're working on," Gil mentioned casually.
"I'll tell you when I see you," she promised. She scrunched up her nose. "It's nothing special, not this time."
"All right," he said softly. He hesitated again, as though he wasn't sure what to say next.
Five weeks, Sara told herself. Five weeks was too long. They were forgetting how to do this.
"Listen," she said. "Can you call me tonight, Gil? After the baseball game, once you're back at the marina and settled in. You'll call me?"
"Before bed?" he asked.
"Yeah," she said. She licked her lips thoughtfully and fought the smirk at the sound of her own, low, husky voice. There was a longer pause over the phone. Gil knew that voice.
"It could be kind of late," he said cautiously.
"I don't care," she said. "I'll wait up. I want to talk to you tonight. For now, I better go."
"Okay," Gil said. "I'll call you. Have a good day, be safe."
"I will. Enjoy your birthday, I love you."
"Love you too," he quickly replied. They said goodbye and hung up at the same time, and Sara put her phone into the back pocket of her jeans. There was no point putting it into one of her bags when she was going to have to take it out again in a moment and put it in the plastic tub.
She felt bad for lying to Gil, and while it was a white lie and not intended to cause any harm – the opposite, really – she did hope the plane didn't crash with her onboard. It would be a terrible thing for him to find out what she was doing. She stepped away from the building and collected the bags at her feet, her handbag and her larger carry-on canvas bag. She joined the steady procession of people jumping out of cabs and other cars nearby and walked along the footpath and through the sliding glass doors, into the air-conditioned expanse of the San Diego International Airport.
The thing about living on a boat with Gil Grissom? There just weren't a lot of opportunities to surprise him.
Sara hid when she got to Seattle. At least, she did her best to hide. There was a good chance that Gil would return from his day of adventures to shower and change before the game, and she didn't want him to find her on the boat before he could get to the baseball. She wanted him to go to the game, he loved it and he would have such a good time. He only had one ticket, and if he found her in Seattle beforehand he would feel bad for leaving her, she would still make him go, and he just would not enjoy the baseball the way he was entitled to. So, the game became, steering clear of Gil.
Thankfully, her deep and complex husband was equally an honest man, and when Gil told her he was going to the museum and Chihuly Garden and Glass and the Space Needle, he meant it.
It was mid-afternoon by the time Sara arrived in the city in a cab from the airport, and she found a small coffee shop and set herself up in a dark booth in the back corner, with her bags, her tablet, the shop's Wi-Fi password, a strong coffee, and a big slice of carrot cake.
Sara had been to baseball games with Gil before, in Seattle and San Francisco, and even one in San Diego the second time they returned for Sara's work more than two years ago. From memory, the Seattle games started around six o'clock when they played at night. That meant the gates opened at four-thirty, and the stadium was at least a fifteen-minute cab ride in traffic from the marina. Gil had said the game was a sell-out, which was not surprising given two popular West Coast teams were playing, but that meant Gil would probably want to get there early, to make sure he didn't get caught up in the crowds trickling through ticketing and security bag-checks at the gates.
So, Sara read and perused some online shopping and news websites for an hour. When it was nearing four-thirty, she gathered her belongings and left, but not before stopping at the counter to buy some sweets to take with her. It wasn't like she had the ability to bake a cake on the boat.
By the time she got herself into another cab and to the marina it was five o'clock, and Gil would almost certainly be inside the stadium and on his way to his seat, with his blue eyes gleaming and a boyish smile of anticipation on his gorgeous face, hidden beneath his favourite baseball cap.
Unfortunately, that great weather he had mentioned earlier on the phone was history.
Sara fumbled through her handbag for her umbrella. She was carrying both of her bags on her right shoulder and was using her right hand to dig through her handbag, while her left arm remained wrapped around the cardboard box from the coffee shop, to protect it from the rain.
She found the umbrella and used her teeth to undo the Velcro strap as the cab drove away, and she was very impressed with herself when she managed to open that compact, cheaply made umbrella with one hand and a few extra fingertips, without dropping the cardboard box of cakes.
She also had the password to the marina's security gate. Gil always sent a copy of it to her phone and email for 'safekeeping' even though he had never forgotten anything so mundane in his life. Just as she was fumbling around trying to press the small, metal, and very wet buttons at the gate while remaining dry, she noticed an old man coming up the path to leave, and Sara stood back and offered a grateful and relieved smile to him when he saw her and said, "Don't worry, love, I've got it for ya. You've got your hands full, eh?" He held the gate open and allowed her to walk in first.
"Thank you," Sara called over her shoulder.
She was in! Now, to find the boat. She had the slip information as part of the booking email with the code, but it had been a while since she was at the Seattle marina with Gil on the Ishmael, and it took her a moment to determine whether she needed to walk left or right. The marina was full and the cloudy sky was already dark. The lights were on along the paths but the light, cool drizzle fell almost like a snow, and easily obscured her view of the boats despite it not raining too heavily.
Sara took her time, until finally she spotted the familiar boat halfway along the marina.
Home.
The row of boats looked deserted. The Ishmael was dark but for the marina's own security light on the path behind Sara which cast a dim yellow glow all the way along the path. She could make out the name of the boat, though, and she would know it even in darkness. She lived there.
She was pleased the boats on either side of the Ishmael and across from it seemed equally abandoned. The marina only allowed a certain percentage of slips to have liveaboard status, and some of these other boats belonged to Seattle locals, not travellers like herself and Gil. She put her umbrella down and back into her bag, and carefully dropped her bags over the starboard railing. She was careful climbing aboard in the rain, with the cakes still in hand, but her long, thin legs made the job easier and she was skilled at this now. She moved around the boat just as easily as she would a caravan or a house, and they had been through rain before. She understood how to place her feet and how to grip the metal railing to minimise the risk of slipping, and this wasn't even proper rain. God, how she and Gil had survived some storms, and the waves! A little drizzle in the marina? Easy.
She did pick her bags up off the deck quickly, though. She did not want her tablet or phone to get wet, and it seemed to have been raining at the marina for some time. With her bags hauled back over her right shoulder, she blindly searched her handbag for her keys. She sighed at the never-ending nature of having to dig through her bag for her stuff. It just wasn't something she ever did when she was living on the boat, and it was supposed to be a simple thing that women did every day without thinking about it, but every time Sara got back onto dry land she found getting used to the bag again to be annoyingly awkward. When she was at work, she never used it. She took it to and from the lab and stored it in her locker, and her ID and her phone got shoved into the back pockets of her pants, and she was good to go. The less she had to do with this blasted bag, the better.
"Yes!" she declared when her hands finally wrapped around the keys and she yanked them out. Her eyes were well-adjusted as night fell. Hardly any light from the marina's security light now reached her, given the yacht between the Ishmael and that light was so much larger. She found the key to the cabin anyway, it was distinctive and had a certain feel to it that she knew well, and she sighed with relief when she felt the lock give way and the door open. "Thank God," she whispered.
The boat smelt like Gil. He had come home and showered, because she could still smell the faint notes of his deodorant mixed with the smell of tea and toast, and just…the smell of their home.
Sara was glad he wasn't there because tears had filled her eyes and she didn't want to greet him by bursting into tears. He deserved Happy Sara on his birthday, and she was so deeply happy.
She let her bags slide off her shoulder and she put the cakes on the small table where they ate. She opened the box to check on them, and smiled when she discovered they had survived, dry and mostly intact. She lifted the slice that had fallen on its side and set it upright, and then quickly swiped her index finger over the icing that had transferred onto the cardboard box and tasted it.
Yum, she thought, suddenly eager for this baseball game to begin and end so that she could see her husband and stick a candle in that cake and force him to sit there while she sang 'happy birthday'. Thankfully, the game did give her time to finish getting ready. She dug through her carry-on for the clothes she had brought with her, after leaving most of her workwear in their storage locker near the marina in San Diego, and she slipped into the small bathroom for a shower. She wondered, if she turned the lights out and Gil returned home unaware she was there, would he be able to smell her the moment he stepped into the cabin too? Her deodorant, her moisturiser?
Absolutely, she realised, but she wasn't going to do that to him. She didn't want to give the man a heart attack by leaping out of the shadows the moment he switched on the lights, so she would leave the cabin light on, so that he got a good look in advance and could prepare himself to confront this apparent intruder. Sara wasn't scared; she was the one on board with the knives. She knew it might scare Gil a little, but she hoped he was more curious than afraid, as was his nature.
After a quick, cool shower to wash the stale smell of the plane off her, Sara dressed, re-brushed her straightened, damp brown hair back into a ponytail, and settled down in bed to wait. It was a double bed, tucked up against the port side below deck. Sara liked that they slept with their feet pointing toward the bow of the boat, so it never felt like they were sitting or sleeping backward when the boat was motoring ahead. She sank into the familiar warmth of their mattress and pillows and smiled when she found her silk nightgown still underneath her pillow, tucked up beside the wall of the boat, below the porthole on her side of the bed. Sara stretched out on top of the covers, found the novel Gil was re-reading for the tenth time under his pillow, commandeered his reading glasses from the little cabinet within arms' reach, and started flicking through the familiar pages.
The baseball game would probably last three hours, she thought, longer if they were getting rain any heavier than what was still falling outside and were delayed. Sara cracked open the porthole above her and inhaled the salty air and absorbed the sound of the water lapping around the Ishmael. There was very little wind despite the rain, and she smiled to herself as she settled down to wait.
Gil checked his phone as the cab neared the marina later that night. It was after ten o'clock and he hadn't forgotten his promise. There was nothing from Sara to say she was giving up on waiting for him and going to sleep, but he also hadn't heard from her for twelve hours now, since their phone call, and he hoped she was all right. She must have had a busy day in the field. It had been a busy placement for her, she had been working long hours which was unusual since the San Diego lab was often so strict about her not doing any overtime, but the lab was understaffed with Nick and Sophie both on leave, and Gil suspected Sara had missed working with those friends.
She hadn't told him much about her time at the lab so far, but in the first week she did confess to feeling as though she didn't really know anyone she was working with. Unfortunately, that wasn't unexpected, given all Sara did these days was drop in once a year to do this time, and then she left again. She wasn't party to the usual comings and goings of personnel and she was only ever there just long enough to re-establish bonds with the regulars before she left them again. Gil knew it was hard, but Sara was stubborn and tough and independent and she made it work, she was still determined to make it work. It was strange that she hadn't messaged him though. Perhaps she'd had a very good day as part of the team and she hadn't felt so adrift. He smiled as he thought of it.
Gil sat back in the cab and bit his bottom lip in anticipation as his mind then turned to calling her. Once he got to the marina he could be back on the boat and in bed and ready to go in minutes. Five weeks. Five long, lonely weeks without his wife, sleeping in their bed alone, enjoying the ability to spread out in bed but also reaching for her in the night and finding nothing more than her pillow and the night gown she had always said was too impractical for the boat but that she wore anyway.
Before Sara, Gil had never had sex over the phone, but with Sara, it was so much more. They hadn't really gone down that path the first time she left Las Vegas more than twelve years ago, because for much of that time she had been in Costa Rica and there were time-zone issues and he was still on the night shift and Sara had very little privacy at camp, and their calls were infrequent and sad, and they had just left him missing her dearly. Sara had needed time and space to recover from what had happened to her in Vegas in the year before she left, and he had given her that, but once they were married in Costa Rica, after Sara then returned to Vegas on her own while he stayed behind to research, the occasional phone call had turned intimate. It had petered out once he found himself at research camps in Peru with no privacy and more time-zone issues, but they had tried.
It really wasn't anything they had managed to do well, until the last time Sara left the boat to return to San Diego for work, just one year ago. That was the first time since re-marrying that they had spent more than a week apart – an entire month – and for some reason the phone sex hadn't felt as awkward or as forced as those few times during their first marriage when Sara had been in Vegas and he had been far away in Europe and South America. They trusted each other more now.
One night they were talking, and it just happened. Gil wasn't even truly sure who initiated it but it had felt very natural. He had wanted so badly to be with her, and she with him. Neither of them was used to being apart for long. After that first time, that month had been filled with opportunities for Gil to close his eyes and imagine her there with him while he listened to her voice.
There was plenty of privacy for sex on a boat in the middle of the ocean, after all.
That was something different about this time Sara was now spending in San Diego again, Gil realised. Five weeks apart so far, and none of their phone calls had gone down that path. He assumed she was busy, and more than half of their entire twenty-year relationship had never involved sex anyway, but something felt off whenever he spoke to her. Gil just did his best not to worry because he couldn't fix anything when he was out on the boat and not there beside her.
Sara could also look after herself, she was the strongest person he knew, and she would ask for him if she needed him. He knew that was true because that morning she had done exactly that.
Can you call me tonight? You'll call me? I want to talk to you tonight.
Gil honestly had no idea whether Sara was thinking along the lines of phone sex for his birthday or a serious talk over the phone before bed. He had not been able to get a read on her tone of voice over the phone, and without being there to look into her eyes it was hard sometimes to know what she meant. He knew it was the same for her, though he tried to make it easy for her to know him. He tried so hard because he knew he hadn't always been the easiest person to know.
He was just trying not to get too worked up about what Sara might have meant, as the cab dropped him at the marina. He would find out soon enough.
It was raining more heavily at the marina than it had been at the baseball game. Gil kept his cap low and turned the collar up on his jacket to stay as dry as possible. He had already ditched the clear plastic poncho right after the game; those things were moderately helpful for a short amount of time but then water just got inside them anyway, and he would never get into a cab still wearing it. It was easier just to get wet at the end of the night, and he would be home and dry soon.
As he hurried past the marina gate and toward the boat his mind was on Sara and the list of small tasks he needed to do quickly before he called her. Get to the boat, get inside, towel dry, pyjamas, teeth, water, lock up the cabin, get into bed. He was so focused on what he needed to do that he almost didn't notice the light coming from the Ishmael until he was right upon it. He froze.
The cabin light was on. Had he left it on?
No, he hadn't even turned it on. It had been sunny that morning and he hadn't turned it on that afternoon either; the boat should have been in darkness. He hesitated before climbing aboard. It was raining, so maybe someone had taken refuge, but the marina had upgraded their security and no one could even get in without the code, and no one should have had a code without also having their own boat in which to take refuge from the rain. Gil couldn't hear any noise, so no one was presently trashing the cabin. There was no loud music or drunken laughter to indicate anyone had inadvertently stumbled onto the wrong boat, and that didn't often happen in weather like this, and not when the yacht right beside the Ishmael was larger and more luxurious, and far more tempting to trespassers out for a drunken lark. There was no noise beyond that of the boats on the water.
Gil climbed aboard. If someone had broken in and left the light on, they surely would have left before the rain got this heavy and so it was probably safe. He would go in and assess the damage and perhaps that phone call to Sara would not be such a happy one. They had very little cash and few personal valuables on board, but Sara had left some nice necklaces behind, and the boat had some expensive equipment on it. If they had been robbed, Gil was sure they would be forking out to replace their personal emergency beacons and the satellite phone and portable defibrillator. All easy to steal, and worth a lot. He was annoyed by the time he opened the cabin door. It made no noise, and he paused on the stairs. Nothing, he reasoned. No sounds of movement, no sounds of life.
He did not hear Sara's breathing above the sound of his own, but he held his breath when he saw her bags at the bottom of the stairs. He knew those bags and he looked around. He saw Sara.
She was fast asleep on their bed, dressed in jeans and a grey hoodie. No socks or shoes.
Sara's side of the bed was the one pressed against the port side of the boat. She almost always slept on that side irrespective of whether their bed was on a boat or in a house or a hotel, but it made even more sense for her to take that side on the Ishmael. Gil was the one who more often got up in the night to check on the weather and on their position relative to other vessels, and this way Sara was less likely to be disturbed. If she needed to use the toilet she often waited until he was up, and she was back in bed by the time he was dragging himself back to bed too.
Now, again, she was on her side of the bed, facing the wall. Her back was to him and she was curled up on her side, with her long legs bent and her bare feet stacked neatly one on top of the other. Gil knew she felt safe, because she had fallen asleep barefoot and alone on the boat with her back to the only way in and out of the cabin. His heart swelled and was still thumping heavily in his chest, but any last fear-based adrenaline that had surged at the thought he might have been robbed was replaced with affection and surprise. What was Sara doing there? She still had another week in San Diego, they had a plan to meet, he was meant to be leaving the next day to go and pick her up.
She had been awfully eager to confirm all those details again that morning, though, now that Gil thought about it. Checking. Checking that he would definitely still be in Seattle another night.
You still heading to that ball game tonight?
She had sounded so casual. Of course, he had thought at the time. Why wouldn't he be?
Gil backtracked to close and lock the cabin door. Then he leant down to take off his damp shoes and socks before he moved another inch into the cabin. He did not want to startle a sleeping Sara awake with squelching footsteps, that would frighten her.
He walked to the bed in bare feet and eased himself onto the bed, hoping she might sense familiarity and know it was him. She did not stir, even as his weight caused her to roll onto her back. Sara flopped over and her head turned all the way to face him, because her hair was tied in a tight ponytail and sleeping on that instinctively wasn't an option. Her eyes were closed and she slept on.
Yes, Gil thought as he stared at her in the light. It's really Sara, not an unwelcome intruder.
"Honey," he whispered as his fingertips lightly danced around her temple and her straight, coloured hair. Her hair looked longer, her ponytail was sprawled out across the pillow, but maybe it just looked that way because it had been straightened and it had been five weeks since Gil had seen her in person. She looked lovely. Her face was relaxed, her cheeks were flushed, but it was warm in the cabin and she was dressed too warmly. Why hadn't she put on pyjamas and gotten into bed?
She was waiting for me, Gil realised. She must have fallen asleep by accident.
"Sara, sweetheart," he said a little more loudly as he tried to gently stir her. "I'm back."
She hummed and stretched in the bed, a long, happy, cat-like stretch that made him smile.
"Hi," she mumbled as she squinted up into the overhead cabin light. "What time is it?"
"Late. Why don't I have a shower," Gil suggested. "Wash this ballgame off me. You rest."
Sara nodded, and Gil hurried to the bathroom, where he would also brush his teeth.
When Gil returned in a loose t-shirt and tracksuit pants, Sara was up and moving around in the kitchen, packing whatever had been in that box on the counter into a plastic container so it would keep. He watched her take a long drink of water from a new bottle, which she held out to him when she turned and saw him there.
"Thanks," he said. Water had been on his list of things to do, and he gulped it down.
"Wow," she said with a barely controlled laugh. "Thirsty?"
"Interminably," he declared once he finished the bottle and discarded it.
Sara laughed; it was that bright, joyous laugh he had missed so much. Her eyes sparkled, and when she walked to him he opened his arms and accepted her into a hug. Gil sighed at the feeling of her soft chest pressed against his and her heart beating and the way she breathed in time with him.
"Oh my God it's been too long," he whispered in her ear in a hurried rush, as their arms tightened around each other. Sara nodded quickly against his neck and shoulder as she squeezed him and rubbed his back, and Gil just stood still as he held her and tried to soak up the feeling of her warm, living body close to his. It was the first thing he missed every time she left, and he could never recreate it no matter how long he lay there with his eyes closed and imagined her beside him.
Life was fragile that way. Sara thought about that a lot too, but now, she was here.
After another moment she lifted her lips to his ear and Gil felt her wide grin.
"Happy birthday to you," she sang, which made him laugh. She nuzzled and kissed his cheek and bearded jaw as she continued. "Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to Gil-bert-"
"Stop it," he warned playfully.
"Happy birthday to you," she finished quickly. She lifted her head to look him in the eyes and Gil only caught a glimpse of the warmth and playfulness in those brown eyes before he pressed his lips to hers in an urgent kiss. He couldn't take it a moment longer. But he felt Sara's sharp intake of breath and the grip of her fingers into his shoulder and he realised he had caught her off guard. He forced himself to slow down. He dipped his tongue into her mouth in the way she always loved. His reward for his patience was a beautiful mewling moan against his mouth. He continued the kiss in the same way and enjoyed the sounds Sara made against him and the feel of her melting into him.
Five weeks, he told himself. Too long. Too, too long. Four weeks was doable. Five? Not again.
Sara's hands had been resting lightly against his back and shoulder but as the kiss continued she gripped the sleeve of his t-shirt and slid her other hand under his shirt to touch his bare back. Her tongue swept against his more urgently and it was Gil's turn to moan. He tried to tell her everything that he was feeling, his need, how much he had missed her, missed this. Sometimes being with Sara felt like a routine, until she was gone and he realised how special it really was.
Sara suddenly moved her hands to his chest and pushed him back. They were breathless, their eyes were glazed as they watched each other. Gil tried to calm down. He knew they were tired.
But Sara's eyes still sparkled and she quirked her lips and eyebrows up hopefully.
"Presents?" she asked.
"I thought this was my present," Gil said, rushing his words again as he held her waist in his hands. Sara laughed and rubbed his forearms. She bit her bottom lip and blushed.
"I got you real presents," she admitted.
Gil felt a spark of excitement. He loved opening presents. He nodded and Sara gestured for him to get onto the bed, where he scooted into the centre so she had room at the edge. She lifted her carry-on bag and set it in front of her, as she sat down cross-legged by his outstretched legs. Gil's eyes went wide when he looked into the open bag and saw all the presents. Sara completely misinterpreted his excitement and assured him, "Don't worry, they're mostly all consumables."
"Honey, I wasn't worried about where we would put them," he said. "Where are the rest of your clothes?"
"Oh, I put my work stuff into storage, I'll get it next time," she said dismissively. "I didn't want to have to check my bag because I was also hauling a big bag of presents onto the plane." She smiled and handed him the first present. A moderate size, flat and firm, a little rattle, not a book, he assessed. He thought he knew what this was, and when he tore off the paper he was delighted to find that he was right; a new sketchpad and some specialty drawing pencils, including a packet of coloured pencils that he was going to enjoy experimenting with. He would add them to his case.
The next two parcels were two boxes of very nice chocolates and an assortment of his favourite types of tea, which Gil was sure Sara would join him in consuming without much persuasion. With three presents down and a few more to go, he felt brave enough to ask the one question on his mind.
"So, is this an overnight visit, or are you-"
"No, I'm staying, I'm back," she said quickly. Her eyes went wide as though suddenly she wasn't sure. "I, uh, is that okay? That I'm home early?"
"Sara," Gil said as he softened and nodded. "Of course, it is. I'm just surprised."
"That was kind of the point," she said with a flash of her eyes. He didn't know if she was upset or being droll, so he offered her a cheeky smirk and an innocent shrug to make her laugh. She did laugh, but Gil then watched as she bit her bottom lip. When she glanced anxiously into his eyes he silently asked her to talk to him. "I uh, I've been working a lot of overtime," she said. "I made my hours before the month was even up. They're so understaffed without Sophie's leave backfilled and with Nick off too, and I told them I could stay for six weeks but I spent all of yesterday asking myself why that was so important, when it meant you'd be spending your birthday alone. How many times do you get to turn sixty-five, you know? How many times am I going to get to…sit here with you?"
Gil felt tears rush to his eyes as he watched the same thing happen to her. Her voice cracked and she scoffed at herself and quickly blinked her tears away.
"Sorry," she said, forcing a smile. "I promised myself I wasn't going to bring the party down."
Gil was perfectly capable of doing that himself, and he looked at her seriously, inquisitively.
"You haven't enjoyed it this time," he said.
"No, I have," she said insistently. Too stubbornly, he thought. He looked into her eyes and she sighed. "I have," she said more calmly and sincerely. "I always enjoy the work once I'm in the field and back in the lab. It's just that…in fact it's a good thing I suppose, this time I just slotted right into the team and was put to work, but I guess because we were always so busy I just didn't feel…appreciated?" She laughed. "God, that sounds so arrogant, doesn't it? Like I deserve special treatment when I'm using them too. Maybe it would have been fine, but I haven't been sleeping."
"The insomnia's still going on?" Gil asked seriously. "Have you been feeling down?"
Sara slowly looked into his eyes. She rolled her lips together and nodded, but she was quick to respond verbally when she saw the immediate worry in Gil's expression.
"It's okay," she said. She held his nearest calf with a strong, reassuring grip. "I went back to that nice doctor I found the last time and told her I wasn't sleeping and I was feeling upset and tired and not myself, and maybe that was just because I missed you – she knows our situation, you know? – and she gave me the once-over again and ran some tests. She reassured me I wasn't just a lovesick wife who was going a little mad. She uh, she thinks I'd benefit from a low-dose HRT, just for a year or two. She's pretty sure that's the problem, which is what we thought anyway. My tests confirmed it."
"So, officially…"
"No more contraception," she said, attempting to say it with a smile. "A new chapter."
Gil nodded. He was relieved. They had known it was coming, it had been over a year since Sara had a period, they had stopped being careful, and in truth they had often been reckless over the last few years, but at least they could both relax about it now and Sara could get some help.
"I've got a whole year's supply of patches in here," Sara said as she shook her bag and chuckled. "I started a week ago. I wanted to tell you, but I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that tonight."
"I'm the one who asked a leading question," he said. "I'm glad you're okay, it's going to be okay, and honestly I don't care what we talk about. This is a hundred times better than a phone call."
"Only a hundred times better?" Sara asked, playfully looking offended. Then she smirked. "Oh, is that because of the kind of phone call you were perhaps expecting on your birthday?"
Gil laughed and shrugged innocently again, and Sara cackled. She reached into the bag and handed him an envelope, but once he took it she quickly clasped both of his hands tightly around it and looked seriously into his eyes.
"Along those lines…" she began, trailing off with a knowing look. "About a week ago when I couldn't sleep, I wrote you this, but please don't read it in front of me, it's too embarrassing. I still want you to have it, I think if I write you a love letter you should get the chance to read it, you know? But I'll make sure over the next couple of days you get time alone to do that. Is that okay?"
"Yes," Gil whispered, and he meant it. Sara had written to him in the past when she had left Las Vegas while they were engaged, and they had been beautiful letters telling him about Costa Rica and how she had been feeling and how she missed him but didn't want him to come to find her yet. At the time, an exchange of letters had been easier for her to cope with than phone calls. Gil still had those letters, they were in the safe, and after the divorce he had sometimes read them and thought about all the things he might have done better. He had gone after her eventually, he had married her, but he had still let it all fall apart, and in some ways he had broken it apart himself. Sara had forgiven him and Gil had forgiven himself, and Sara had forgiven herself for her own perceived part in it, but the memory of it all lingered in almost every day. They didn't take it for granted anymore.
He couldn't wait to read this letter, but he would.
"You're spoiling me," he told her.
"It's not my fault that every time I went out I saw something that I thought you'd like," Sara said. She handed him the largest present next. It was big and soft and awkwardly wrapped, and Gil chuckled happily as he sat it on his lap and poked at it experimentally. It felt like clothes, he thought.
Sara rolled her eyes.
"Honestly, sixty-five and still this excited at the prospect of tearing the paper off something."
"Yes but as you said, how many more times do you think I'm going to get to do that? I'm aiming for thirty more times, by the way."
"I don't doubt it," Sara assured him with a happier laugh. She gestured for him to go ahead, and he tore the paper off to reveal a new fleece-lined, wind-proof jacket. He sucked in a breath. These were expensive. "Your old one is so over-worn," Sara insisted. "You need a new one, and I've tried it on, it's amazing."
Gil chuckled as he found a long, brown hair in the fleece around the inside collar and removed it. Case in point, he told her with his eyes, and she laughed again and nodded. She had her own similar jacket, but she hadn't been using hers for as many years as Gil had been in his. They had never talked about replacing it, but she was observant and she wore his worn-out older jacket too.
"This is so thoughtful," he told her. "Thank you." He hesitated. "You did tell people you were leaving San Diego, didn't you?" he asked as gently as he could.
Sara glared at him, but her glare was laced with good humour.
"Yes," she said in a playful huff. "I called Trevor last night. I said I was sorry but I'd done my hours and I needed a week in lieu of all the overtime I wasn't going to be paid for anyway. I said my family needed me. He never wanted me there, I was just a useful extra body to help them clear the backlog. The lab felt less welcoming this time, Gil. I don't know if I want to go back there again."
"I'm so sorry," Gil said. His heart ached as he watched her face. "Why didn't you tell me? Honey, we spoke on the phone every day. We were right at the end of data collection, and I've just been hanging out here for the last week, I would have dropped everything to get down there."
"I know, but I didn't want you to have to do that, and I'm not sure it would have helped, to be honest. I would have ended up taking out my frustrations on you and snapping at you and there's nothing you could have done. Work was fine, the cases were fine, I did the job. Lots of people don't have fun at work and don't get along with all their colleagues. You and I were lucky to have been so passionate about what we did in Vegas, and to have worked with such good friends, for so long."
"Sara," Gil said. He licked his lips to give him an extra moment to think about what he wanted to say. Everything she said was true, but she was only thinking about herself and her own experience. "I've been lonely too," he admitted, as he used every ounce of energy he still had to get the words out and to look into her eyes without chickening out like he had so many times in the past. "I've been…having trouble sleeping too, and I always…I always feel…all at sea, when you're not here. I would have come to you. We could have fought, darlin', and that would have been okay."
Tears spilled onto Sara's cheeks and she stared at him with a look of utter surprise that startled Gil. As though what he had said was a revelation, when it should have been obvious because she was his wife and best friend, and they had barely been apart in years.
Sara wasn't physically crying, she had just lost control of her tears, and she blinked and wiped them away with the calm grace and dignity that made her look beautiful. She was beautiful.
Gil reached his right arm out, over the bag between them, and cupped her cheek and jaw with his hand. His thumb rubbed the remnants of warm tears into Sara's skin as he waited for her to react in some other way. There was an intensity to the way she was looking into his eyes which made it difficult to look away, and her pulse was thumping beneath his fingers at her neck, just as quickly as his own.
This was better than phone sex. He wanted her.
Sara's cheeks flushed under the weight of his suddenly assertive, lustful gaze and she cleared her throat and reached into the bag.
"Um, last one," she said as she held out the wrapped box.
Gil reluctantly let her go and smiled as he accepted the box.
"Oh, and I brought cake," she added casually, with a wave of her hand toward the kitchen. She removed the tie of her ponytail. "I put it away, we might have it for breakfast tomorrow."
"Why not?" Gil asked agreeably as he laughed. Cake for breakfast sounded brilliant to him. He unwrapped the final present to reveal a square box about the size of a shoebox, unlabelled, and whatever was in it was incredibly light and made no noise. Feathers? Ooh, perhaps Sara had found him a cocoon, he realised with excitement. Or a chrysalis! He did miss the moths and butterflies.
Sara grinned as she watched the curious look on his face.
"You'll never guess, darling," she promised him. She rubbed his calf over the fabric of his tracksuit pants. "Just know I love you too," she added softly.
Gil glanced at her and nodded. Sara wasn't asking him to say any more. He was heartened to hear that she understood; she had heard what he hadn't said, in amongst all he had.
"Go on, open it," Sara urged excitedly. "If you stare at it any longer, people will think we're spending too much time together."
Gil laughed. She did like to take her time unwrapping presents, but she also liked to see him tear through his, so in a flash he whipped off the lid and looked down.
It was empty. Huh.
He looked at Sara quizzically, but she had peered into the box with her hair over her face.
"Oh dear, it's empty," she remarked in a curious voice. "Maybe I forgot to pack it…" Then she snapped her fingers and quickly added, "Oh wait, no, I remember where I put it now." She looked up into his eyes with that warm intensity again and simply whispered, "I'm wearing it."
Gil's eyes immediately fell to her body, covered in the unassuming grey hoodie and jeans.
"Oh, that's a good present," he heard himself say without thinking.
"Ahuh," Sara agreed with a grin. She lowered the zip on her hoodie by an inch and undid the top button on her jeans, but that was all, and it was enough. Gil felt arousal surging through him as his wide eyes made their way back to hers. She laughed. "Sweetheart, you look a little stunned."
"I just can't believe you're here," he said quickly as he gulped. "This is not going to be slow."
"I know, that's fine, I want that too," she assured him. She held up a finger. "But do not tear this lace, Gil, I don't care how excited you are to unwrap me."
Laughter bubbled up from deep in Gil's chest as he shook his head and appreciated the lightness in Sara's voice. God, he loved her. He had missed her. He couldn't believe she had tortured herself for five weeks for no reason when they could have been together, just to hold onto those stupid qualifications that she was never going to use again anyway. But it was worth it, for this.
Sara calmly took the empty box from him and put the box and her bag on the floor. She then nimbly climbed over the top of him to her side of the bed and urged him down for a passionate kiss.
The cake didn't make it to breakfast, and after cleaning up and putting fresh underwear and pyjamas on Gil retrieved the cake and brought the container back to bed, along with another bottle of water, which they shared while they sat and ate. He still felt breathless and Sara's face was still flushed, or perhaps his beard had scratched her. It had only been a matter of minutes, he guessed. The midnight blue lace bra and undies set had been discarded at the foot of the bed but Gil wasn't about to forget what it had looked like on. The lace from the bra had extended down to wrap around Sara's ribs and the pale skin of her stomach. Sara said the colour reminded her of the deep ocean. She said it so casually and yet it meant so much. Gil hadn't thought it was possible to love her more.
Sara felt incredibly pleased with herself as she sat in bed with Gil and licked icing from her fingers. He still had a somewhat stunned look on his flushed face and was only picking at the cake, as though he hadn't quite recovered from the exertion well enough to feel hungry yet. She knew he was tired, they both were, but he was the one who had fetched the sustenance and she wasn't going to refuse a second piece of cake in one day, was she? Not after that. It had been fast and loud and real and full of passion, she was even a little sore, and it was all so much better than a phone call.
Sara had spent the entire previous day feeling miserable that she wouldn't be with Gil on his special birthday. She had spent the previous night in bed, anticipating how empty she would feel hanging up the phone after their talk, or whatever else might have happened if she had called him.
Well, she had certainly fixed that problem. She wasn't miserable anymore, neither was Gil.
She took another long drink of water when she finished her cake, and again her husband finished the bottle after finally devouring his own slice.
"We may need to hit the shops again before we leave town, or watch our water consumption," she remarked humorously.
"We will," he said. "I only stocked to get myself to San Diego. Now we can just go, but we'll figure out what we need in the morning." He smiled as she arranged herself in bed to sleep, and he got up to put the empty container away. He then packed the empty water bottles into the recycling tub and turned out the lights. "So glad you're home," he mumbled as he climbed into bed with her.
Sara cuddled into his arms and nodded in agreement. He was warm and strong and he hugged her with such affection. She had missed him. She didn't know what she had ever done to deserve someone like him in her life. More than twenty years ago when she walked into that forensics conference and he had been presenting to the room it had been…such a good surprise, to feel the instant attraction while she watched him and as they spoke afterward, as she asked him every anthropology question she could think of while she rustled up the nerve to ask him to dinner. That genuine pull toward another person had happened so rarely in her life, and Sara knew it had been the same for Gil. Nonetheless, he had surprised her by keeping in touch with the occasional friendly phone call, and he had surprised her when he asked for her help in Vegas, and then he asked her to stay. He had surprised her when after years of trying to get him to express himself he finally did, and he said he loved her before she could even say the words to him out loud for herself. She was surprised when he cried next to her hospital bed, she was surprised when he asked her to marry him, and she was surprised when he found her in Costa Rica. But despite all of that, Sara knew the greatest surprise of her life was the life they had now, on this boat, the marriage they had carefully put back together. She would have laughed in the face of anyone who suggested it five years ago.
She closed her eyes as Gil combed his fingers through her hair and kissed around her temple.
"Are you all right?" he asked, as though he could feel her thoughts and the depths of her emotions, or maybe he was just worried that he might have physically hurt her moments ago.
"Yes," she assured him. She leant her head back to look into his eyes in the dark. The boat was moving subtly on the calm water and they could hear the light rain falling just beyond the partly open porthole above Sara's head. Sara stroked Gil's jaw and gently scratched through his silver beard with her fingernails. They smiled gently at one another. "So, good surprise?" she asked finally.
She wasn't very good at surprising people. Too blunt, too dull, too impatient. She was pretty sure the only time she had ever genuinely surprised Gil before that day was the day more than four years ago when she left her job and found him at the marina in San Diego. She would never forget the look on his face as he helped her aboard and realised she was there to stay, for him, with him.
She hoped this came close.
"Sara," he whispered lovingly. He sighed, sounding tired but sincere. "A wonderful surprise."
Sara smiled. For all she knew, he was talking about all of it.