Chapter Eleven
Really Short Random Thoughts
Disclaimer et al see first chapter.
Prompts from Wander52: grandfather clock, hedge clippers, power strip, Jell-o jigglers, and tea kettle.
Both agreed on the first purchase for their new house: a king-sized four poster bed for their master bedroom.
However, Grissom was adamant about the next acquisition. "If we're to have a proper home, we must have a grandfather clock."
After it had been delivered and set up, Grissom couldn't wipe the smile off his face.
Sara slipped her arms around her husband, "Thank you Sara, I've always wanted one."
"And I've always wanted one of these," she said as she caressed her extended abdomen.
He kissed her, passionately, but he couldn't keep his eyes off the clock.
Jim Brass looked down at the text message in complete surprise.
Murder weapon in McKay case: hedge clippers.
He knew he should relay the message to Grissom, since they were working a new case and when Brass looked around, he didn't see his friend. Officer Mitchell was standing sentry on the body; motioned to him that Grissom had gone outside.
Brass walked out of the house and as he rounded the corner to Grissom's Denali, he saw the Grissom embracing another CSI, stroking her back with his broad hands.
"Sorry, but really you lovebirds, let's get back to work."
Sara determined the cause of the house fire at the mayor's mansion had not been arson as previously suspected but accidental secondary to an overloaded power strip in the den.
The Mayor's office had given her high praise for her discovery. It was the first time she received commendation for her work as a CSI. There had been a media announcement in the newspaper, but only one reporter from the paper had shown up and no one else.
Sara wasn't offended by the media slight, but the fact that her boss hadn't bothered to show up, that was an insult.
"You know what I wish I could have right now?" Sara was sweating, barely dressed. She was sprawled across the two cots they'd joined with rope to form one bed.
She fanned herself with a wet cloth, hoping the heat of the jungle would just magically disappear.
"A bathtub filled with Jell-O jigglers?" His was teasing her, but the thought did have a bit of merit. He sat only in his boxers as he looked up from his book to answer her.
"One of those frozen lemonades from that place in mall. Oh, those were so, so cold."
It never occurred to Sara to wonder why she could sleep curled on her couch better than in her own bed. It was a fantasy she held dear. When she lay with her back tight against the couch, she could image herself beside him; sleeping within Grissom's embrace.
The couch offered no solace, today.
She tossed, she turned. Nothing helped.
She got up and waited impatiently for the tea kettle to whistle, hoping the chamomile would help her sleep.
He told a murder suspect what he could not tell her himself.
It hurt, but she vowed to get over him.
To be continued…Reviews are appreciated…: )