Grissom sat on the bench in the locker room staring at his phone, debating with himself whether he ought to call Sara to make sure she was okay. He wanted to be there for her but he didn't want her to feel stifled and watched. But he was hungry, and his stomach chose this moment to remind him. He was about to speed-dial her number when in walked Nick.
"Griss," the Texan greeted tiredly, shrugging his jacket off, "You clocking off?"
"I am," Grissom replied with assurance. I got a hot date with my wife, he thought to himself, so don't go sending me out on a scene. "It's been a long shift," he added when Nick lapsed into silence.
Nick divested himself of his gun and cuffs. "You can say that again."
"Listen, Nick, did you just come from PD? Do you know if Sara's on her way back?"
"Yes and no. Last I saw of her she was with Brass."
Grissom glanced at his phone hesitantly before putting it away. "You're not headed home?" he asked Nick, getting up from the bench and reaching inside his locker for his jacket.
Nick pulled a face. "With Catherine off these last few days, paperwork's piled up, so…" he let his words drift meaningfully.
Grissom's smile was knowing. "I don't miss it."
Nick gave a small chuckle. "I'm sure you don't." There was a pause and a short sigh. "I take it you heard Alisa Santiago's our killer?"
Grissom paused in his movement, and turned, slowly nodding his head in reply to Nick. He smiled at Nick's downcast expression and clapped him on the shoulder lightly. "Let this be a lesson, Nicky," he said good-humouredly, holding the younger man's gaze, "never try to make your evidence-"
Nick laughed. "-fit a theory," he finished. "I know." His laughter petered out quickly and he shrugged, his expression once again turning solemn. "Listen, Griss, when you see Sara, can you tell her I'm sorry I was such an ass to her?"
Grissom stifled his chuckle and nodded without commenting. He grabbed his jacket out of his locker and tossed it over his shoulder. "Don't work too late," he said, giving Nick one last clasp of the shoulder as he walked past. "There's more to life than just this."
Nick's brow arched in surprise and he laughed. "I'll keep it in mind, big man. See you tonight."
No sooner had he pulled into the car lot at PD than he saw her. She was sitting on the curb away from the main entrance, head bowed down between her legs, reminiscent of the time he'd found her after the lab explosion – a lifetime ago, he thought. He sighed, pulled up in a spot nearby and joined her side quietly. He let out another breath and wordlessly sat down next to her on the curb. He wrapped one arm around her shoulders, his free hand reaching for hers and he squeezed her to him while stroking his lips to her temple.
Cars, trucks, police cruisers pulled in and out of the lot, unnoticed. People walked past them, staring, enquiring with their eyes, ignored. After long minutes spent like this, silent yet saying so much to her, and when he felt Sara's breathing return to normal he spoke, saying softly, "I saw Nick. He says sorry for being an ass."
Sara scoffed, looking up in front of her toward the lot, the edges of a smile forming on her lips.
"He's an ass," he repeated quietly, a soft chuckle escaping.
Her smile widened and she turned shiny eyes toward him.
He smiled back, pushed her hair away from her eyes and brushed a kiss to her nose. "Do you want to tell me about it?"
She lifted her hand to cup his face and watched him tenderly as she nodded her head. "I do, but not here. I'm hungry. Let's go have breakfast first."
"You sure?"
She nodded again and leaned across to kiss his lips. "Thank you."
He was positively beaming at her. "You're welcome." He pushed up to his feet, pulling her up with him. "We got to make a couple of stops first. Is that okay?" he said as they walked to his Mercedes.
"Sure," she smiled before stopping abruptly. "Shoot," she said. "I got to take the truck back to CSI."
Grissom paused. "It's okay. I'll do the errands and meet you there."
Sara's brow furrowed questioningly.
He tapped the side of his nose. "Curiosity killed the cat, Ms Sidle," he said, laughing mischievously.
Fifteen minutes later, a picnic basket in the trunk of his car and a panting Hank on the back seat, Grissom picked up a waiting Sara from the CSI car lot. She opened the door to be met by a boisterous Hank, eager to lick a smile onto his master's face. Sara laughed, took a moment to return his affection before pushing him back onto the back seat.
"Hank's coming to breakfast with us?" she asked with surprise as she buckled up.
Grissom winked his reply and put the car in drive.
Sara laughed but didn't probe further. "By the way," she said as Grissom pulled out into the traffic. "I had time to go talk to Nick – just now. I wanted to, you know, make peace."
"Good." He covered her hand with his on her lap. "I think," he added choosing his words carefully and returning his eyes on the road, "You were both guilty of wanting the same thing but to different ends."
Sara nodded. "I know." A smile suddenly spread across her face.
"What?" he asked laughing.
Sara opened her mouth to talk but then shook her head, giggling.
"What?" he asked again.
"Did you…ever give Nick a blue marble?"
His eyebrows shot up half-way up his forehead, a sudden sheepish look flashing across his eyes. "A blue marble?" he repeated cautiously, feigning blankness, his eyes firmly on the road.
"You know…if life ever gets crazy…roll with it," she prompted without a trace of humour.
Grissom played it safe. "Ah, that blue marble." He chanced a look in her direction. "It was long time ago, Sara. Some seminar about 'successful management of your unit' Ecklie sent me on. They gave out a load of marbles and-"
"I think I can guess the rest."
Grissom's expression darkened and he removed his hand from Sara's lap to rub his face. "I gave Warrick one of them too," he said wistfully after a moment, turning back toward her. She was watching him and she smiled softly, reaching for his hand, nodding her head at his words. The rest of the drive was spent in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
Ten minutes later, Grissom pulled into a parking spot on the kerbside near the entrance to Desert Breeze Park and recognising his surroundings, Hank began to yelp joyfully from the back seat. Sara laughed.
"What have you got in mind, Gilbert?" she asked with a pout as she got out of the car, folding the seat forward so Hank could disembark too. Grissom followed suit and made his way to the trunk of the car. "Now he's seen the park we have no chance of making it to breakfast this side of noon. Except of course, if you consider 'Pretzels'", she said miming quotation marks and nodding toward a nearby street seller, "an appropriate break-" The word died on Sara's lip, her face pursing with amusement when Grissom took out of the trunk the picnic basket he'd had prepared and presented it smugly to her.
He raised a brow, shrugging. "It's a nice morning," he said by way of explanation, "and Hank could do with the exercise."
They found a spot away from the main thoroughfare so Hank could have a nose around without being kept on the lead, and spread out a blanket on the grass. Sara took off her boots and stretched out on her back on the blanket, while Grissom unpacked their picnic.
"Do you remember the picnic we had in the Bois de Boulogne this time last year?" Sara said out of the blue, her eyes looking up toward the bright late October sky. She turned, leaning on her elbow and met Grissom's gaze, expectant. "Before I left to come back here?"
He smiled fondly at the recollection. "When we found the kitten?" he asked despite knowing exactly which occasion she was referring to. He took out a Thermos flask and two plastic cups out of the basket, holding out one to her.
Sara nodded her reply distractedly as she took the cup. "That day…it's stayed with me, Gil. It kind of was a turning point." She watched as he poured them both a drink of hot chocolate and she burst out into a disbelieving laughter.
"I thought," he said pre-empting her next question, "that you could do with a little cheering up. And you know what the French say about hot chocolate, don't you?" He shrugged, and rummaged in the basket, asking, "Croissant or pain au chocolat, ma chérie?"
Sara's eye twinkled with mischief and she arched her brow. Grissom laughed and gave her one of each.
They ate in silence until Sara said quite out of the blue and unemotionally, "I just…spilt my guts out to some total stranger."
"Julian Santiago?" he asked.
Sara didn't look in the least surprise that he would have guessed. She just nodded thoughtfully. "He blames his mother and her illness for Alisa's pathology and her actions and…" she paused and wordlessly Grissom reached across to take her hand. "And I can't help comparing Mrs Santiago to my mother."
"And you to Julian?" he asked, voicing the words he knew she was thinking.
She lifted her shoulder in a reluctant shrug before nodding. "He left as soon as he could and he did well for himself. His sister on the other hand, Alisa she-"
"She is sick, Sara," he said with confidence. "You know as well as I do that her mother's mental illness did not make her a murderer."
"I know," Sara said quickly. She squeezed his hand, her lips curling in a small smile. "I know and that's what I told Julian, but it brought it home again."
Grissom nodded. Keeping a tight hold of her hand he shuffled next to her and sat up behind her, pulling her up so she leaned against him. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, brought his lips to her hair and just held her silently. Words weren't needed. Sara was stronger now and he knew that she would come through this test of her mental strength just fine. Hank's joyful barking drew him out of his thoughts and he smiled, watching as the dog chased a small animal in the distance.
"You know," Grissom said after a moment, "Hodges asked me if he could come to breakfast with us."
Sara whipped her head round toward Grissom, her eyes wide with incredulity. "I hope you told him where to get off."
Grissom winced and then shrugged, "Not as such."
"What?"
"He asked for some advice – I couldn't just say no!"
"I can't believe you just said that!"
"It's the new sensitive, perceptive, thoughtful me," he said sheepishly.
"You've always been those things," Sara said, turning and snuggling closer into his chest. "You just didn't let on very often. But letting him crash our breakfast?"
"Come on Sara, the man's miserable. He's mopping about the lab like there's no tomorrow. I can't let him go on like that. It's painful to watch, even to me! I had to do something!"
The loud clearing of a throat caused both their heads to snap up skyward. Sara plastered a polite pleasantly-surprised smile on her face and discreetly elbowed her husband in the ribs while he said breezily enough, "David, you found us then?"
A/N: One more chapter, I think. I think Hodges could do with a little fatherly advice from Grissom.