Disclaimer: Not mine.
A/N: I want to take a second to tell my beta's thank you. These women go above and beyond - because I'm a neurotic a. They deserve more than I can ever give them. :D
December 31, 2007
Rain and heavy clouds blanketed most of Northern and Central California, and Sara found herself driving slower than she normally would have. The roads were slick with accumulated oils and traffic was a nightmare. Her sense of peace was quickly eroded by frustration; her shoulders and neck tense, her hands aching from gripping the steering wheel too hard due to the conditions. The radio was on, but the need to change stations as she passed in and out of range was too distracting, so she turned it off with a quick push of the button. For a while she drove in silence, no radio, nothing but the steady thump of her wipers and the hiss of the water spraying off her tires.
As she neared Bakersfield the rain slowed to a stop. She was forced to dig out her sunglasses when the cloud cover finally broke. And as the traffic and weather improved, so did her mood. Despite the fact that the three hundred miles had taken her almost an hour longer than it should have, Sara was convinced she could make up some time through the desert and still get to Vegas by ten. Once again she found the power button for the radio and, after finding a station she thought she'd like, began humming along with the music.
When she began seeing signs for Bakersfield, Sara started looking for a place to stop. She had been riding for almost six hours and both her bladder and stomach were making their disapproval known. Seeing a sign for a Happy Harry's Gas & Sip, Sara laughed and shook her head. Apparently, the entire city of Las Vegas and most of Nevada weren't enough to make Harry happy anymore.
She took the next exit, spotting the gas station off to her right. Parking the car, she opened the door and eased her stiff body out of the seat. Every muscle protested as she stretched. Sara groaned quietly and tilted her head from side to side, trying to relieve the tension that was still keeping her shoulders and neck tight.
Grabbing her purse, Sara slung it over her shoulder and locked the car. The sun had set and the parking lot lights gave the place an eerie glow. The air was cool and she shivered a little as she opened the door and stepped inside. The store was bright and welcoming with the usual displays of chips and candy and snack cakes. The smell of hotdogs being cooked by a heat lamp permeated the air. With a mumbled hello to the clerk, Sara looked around for the restrooms. Minutes later, with a protein bar, a bag of Doritos, a candy bar and a bottle of water she was back in the car.
Sara skirted around the city of Bakersfield and headed toward Barstow, picking up speed as the traffic became lighter. The miles sped by, her head lights revealing that the verdant greens had given way to browns and tans as she neared the I-15. The time was just after eight o'clock when she took the exit that would be the last leg of her journey. Suddenly, she realized she was less than two hundred miles from home and she had no idea how Grissom was going to react when he saw her.
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The bleating of the alarm woke him at six o'clock. With a groan, Grissom slapped at the offending object until the noise stopped. He flopped back against the pillow and sighed. The thought of not having to work tonight, or for the next four days, made him tired in a way the job never had and he wanted nothing more than to roll over and go back to sleep. But that just wasn't possible.
Grissom had agreed to meet Elizabeth Bethune at a diner near the hospital at nine and he wanted to make sure he was there on time. It was New Year's Eve and the revelers would be out in droves, snarling traffic and making his drive a difficult one. The very idea of driving through downtown and along the Strip made his head throb. Instead, he planned to take the perimeter. While it might be longer, it would definitely be faster tonight.
Sighing, he climbed out of bed, taking a moment to adjust the pajama pants that had become tangled around his legs while he was sleeping. He had gotten used to sleeping in just his boxers and a t-shirt when Sara was sharing his bed. Being snuggled against her kept him warm, even on the coldest days. Without her, the bed was cold and lonely. But the pants were a poor substitute for her softness, her heat. With a muttered curse, he stumbled into the bathroom to relieve his bladder and wash his hands and face. Pulling on a long sleeved t-shirt and sliding his feet into his slippers he headed to the kitchen to make coffee.
While the coffee brewed, he opened the door and let Hank into the backyard. Stepping out onto the patio, he watched with a bemused smile as the canine performed his regular routine, trotting along the fence line, marking his territory. It never failed to amaze him that even dogs were such creatures of habit. And he often wondered, while watching Hank, if he and Sara, with their OCD tendencies, had somehow influenced the unsuspecting beast. With a quiet chuckle, he went in to pour himself some coffee.
Returning to the patio, he settled into one of the chairs and took a sip from the steaming mug in his hands. A few minutes later, Hank trotted over and flopped at his feet, his big body, seemingly boneless. Grissom sat, staring out into the darkness, listening to the night sounds and feeling the warmth of Hank against his feet and legs. Despite the peaceful setting, his mind was spinning. His normally well ordered life was not so well ordered now, and he was having a hard time wrapping his head around everything that was happening.
"I'm tired, Hank." Grissom's voice sounded loud in the quiet of the early evening. Hank looked up at him hopefully before scrambling to his feet. With the dog staring at him, Grissom repeated himself, "I'm tired and I'm lost."
Hank only continued to stare at him. "I need to get my head on straight before I meet this nurse, Boy. Have you got any suggestions?" The dog shook his head and snorted to clear his airway and Grissom laughed. "Is that so?" The dog did it again and started to prance back and forth in front of him.
Grissom leaned forward in his chair and scratched Hank's ears. "You're a very smart dog. I don't know why I didn't think of that."
With another laugh, he dodged Hank's exuberant attempts to kiss him. "You know, I haven't done this since Sara left. But don't tell her." The dog sat back on his haunches and looked at Grissom, his eyes promising to keep the secret.
When he and Sara began spending time together outside work, Grissom realized just how much he had let himself go since his surgery. He had picked up almost thirty pounds he could do without. To her credit, Sara never once asked him to lose weight. As a matter of fact, based on her behavior in and out of the bedroom, she had no problem with his body at all. But he was self-conscious about it.
Grissom didn't realize how much he complained about his spongy middle until Sara told him to stop talking and start doing something about it. After a rather heated discussion about his physical limitations, she suggested Tai Chi. Grissom had reluctantly started the exercises, but he quickly became a true believer. The movements gave him a great isometric workout that helped build muscle while the need to control his breathing helped to clear his mind and relieve his stress.
Standing, Grissom moved over to the side of the patio, away from the table and chairs, to an area Sara left clear just for him. For a moment, he simply stood with his hands loose at his side and eyes closed, drawing air in and expelling it slowly. As he moved into the first position, he focused on the shape of his body, the placement of his arms and legs, the contraction of his muscles and the movement of air in and out of his lungs.
Twenty minutes later, his muscles quivering and his body coated in a fine sheen of sweat, Grissom was more relaxed, more centered, than he had been in days. Raising his arms overhead, he stretched, relishing the slight soreness that came with a good workout. When he turned his head, he found Hank curled up in a chair with his head on his front legs.
Grissom used the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face while Hank watched him with something that looked remarkably like amusement. With a grin, Grissom admonished, "Not a word out of you. I know I'm only getting what I deserve."
Raising his head, Hank gave a soft bark. Then he clambered off the chair and trotted over to the door, looking back at Grissom. "Dinner time?" Once again, Hank gave a short bark, this one more excited than the last. Getting his coffee cup off the table, Grissom opened the door and let them into the house.
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"Hey. I'm baaaaaaaaaack." Sara shook her head in frustration.
Sara's mind was spinning. She was seventy-five miles closer to Vegas and still no closer to figuring out how to explain her presence. The radio was playing quietly and Sara tried to concentrate on the music, hoping to calm her raging thoughts. She turned up the volume and the throaty voice of Fergie floated out. The song was about a girl who left her lover in order to work out her own problems, and Sara found herself listening to the lyrics, nodding along in agreement.
"Big girls don't cry." Sara's voice was a little scratchy as she sang along with the chorus. It wasn't true, big girls did cry. She was living proof.
The last strains of the song faded into 'She's a Brick House'. With a rueful grin, Sara turned the volume down again. Her thoughts were just too jumbled to keep inside.
"Just call him, Sara." Even this answer didn't seem appropriate. "No. I've called three times today and he hasn't called back. That should tell me something."
Once again her stomach gave a nasty lurch. Maybe he didn't want her…there or anywhere. Maybe he was so upset about what had happened that he was going to withdraw again.
"Gil hasn't called. But why am I acting all surprised?" She gave a harsh laugh and shook her head. "You'd think I expected him to be different. Like I didn't learn anything from that month he spent in Massachusetts."
She waved a hand dismissively at her imaginary audience. "It doesn't matter if I told him to go. I told him what he wanted to hear." Pausing, she rubbed her tired eyes. "What did I want? I wanted him to lean on me. I wanted to be the one he turned to when it got bad. I wanted to be enough." Her voice was bitter and just a little bit husky. "Of course, I guess I don't have any right to complain. What I did was worse. Much worse."
Eyes focused on the road, she swallowed back the tightness in her throat. Reaching forward she snagged the bottle of water out of the cup holder and took a long drink.
"Brass called and I thought you might need me." She shook her head. "Yeah. Sounds stupid to me too."
"I missed you." Another sharp laugh that didn't hold much humor. "True, but he's not gonna buy it. After all, if missing him were enough I never would've left."
Her emotions had run the gamut from anxiety to terror to peace to frustration and right back to anxiety. With every mile that passed she became more convinced that going home right now was a mistake. Grissom would be furious. His pride wouldn't allow him to take pity from anyone, especially her.
"That's been our problem all along." She chuckled at the absurdity of those words. "Talk about an understatement."
Obviously the monotony of the drive was getting to her. She was starting to act like Sofia, talking to herself. But her unease was growing by the minute.
"Why can't I just go in there and tell him I was worried? Why do I think I need to dance around him? He is my husband. I don't need to make stuff up."
Suddenly, as if by magic, pinpricks of light began to appear in the distance. At first Sara thought she was seeing more stars, but then she realized it was the lights of Las Vegas. Her heart jumped and her stomach clenched and she almost lost her nerve. Then one word floated through her mind…Home. Before she knew it, tears were streaming down her cheeks. Not the sad, hot tears of desperation that had followed her to California but the sweet, cleansing tears of happiness.
A quick glance at the dashboard clock told her it was nine o'clock. She should be able to get to the house by shortly after ten. And she couldn't wait. It didn't matter if Gil was mad. It didn't matter that she had no idea what to say. All that mattered was that she would soon get to see him, touch him, taste him. To tell him she was sorry. And to do whatever she could to make things better for both of them.
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It was half past eight when Grissom locked the door behind him and climbed into his car. He opened the garage door with the push of a button and backed out. Hopefully the twenty mile drive wouldn't take longer than thirty minutes. The unplanned time spent exercising, while helping him relax, had thrown off his schedule. Hopefully, Elizabeth would wait for him.