See disclaimer in Chapter 1. Chapter 5, New Leaf by Vplasgirl.

Chapter 5 - New Leaf

Gil untied Dan's boat from the dock feeling as though he were coasting in someone else's life. He had been here, of course, once before, many, many years ago. Only the boat hadn't been quite so impressive—Dan had done well for himself—and he felt nothing of that young man who had been at the beginning of a certain path but uncertain future. Nor did his hormones stir when he wrapped his hands around Melanie's waist to assist her aboard after one of her flirtatious damsel-in-distress acts. And when he cautiously climbed the short ladder a few minutes later, his knees reminded him that he had lived an entire lifetime since then.

Stepping onto the gleaming wooden deck, Gil felt a twinge of discomfort. He hadn't always felt like a fish out of water in the company of friends. He used to look forward to after-work drinks with his coworkers. Birthday parties were especially fun because they were always about who would buy the best gift. He had even coached his shift's softball team once upon a time. He used to make time for days like today.

It was Holly Gribbs' murder and his promotion to shift supervisor that had changed everything. Not knowing how to be a friend within the boundaries of his job, he gradually withdrew from the people he cared about most until the job was all he had left.

Gil realized that it would take more than one afternoon of socializing with friends to undo thirteen years of living only for his job. But he badly wanted to rediscover the man he was before cynicism and responsibility had turned him into a social misfit. He didn't want to be on the edge of the crowd looking in anymore.

So with a smile, he joined Dan at the controls. "Where did the others disappear to?"

"Below deck. Sara's putting the food away, Billy's getting his fishing tackle, and Mel mentioned something about slipping into a bikini." Grinning, Dan expertly maneuvered the boat out of the slip. "I don't know many women her age that can pull off a bikini, but somehow my sister manages it."

"Some do." Gil didn't add that a hefty income had a way of defying gravity. For Catherine, it had been a case of discovering she had a very wealthy father. She never mentioned the procedures and always accepted compliments about her appearance graciously. But Gil—and the rest of the lab—had noticed her gradual blossoming. Three weeks off had made her wrinkles disappear and her skin tighten. Afternoon appointments had made her lips look fuller, sometimes unnaturally full, the way one occasionally got a bad haircut, but she didn't seem to notice.

Gil had wondered at times if her feelings for the much younger Warrick had been the motivating factor for her cosmetic surgery, but then he remembered Catherine's first profession and figured she would have done it regardless. For a woman accustomed to male adoration, aging couldn't be easy.

But if Warrick had been an incentive for shaving ten years off her appearance, Gil couldn't fault her for it. Not that he would ever resort to cosmetic surgery, but he had made some lifestyle changes in the past few years, some healthy ones though his health had not been his primary concern. He had wanted to look younger.

He lost most of his excess weight via natural methods such as a better diet and exercise, and covered his prematurely gray hair with natural hair dyes. The first time he tried coloring his beard with this much-advertised guaranteed-to-make-him-look-younger product, it turned yellow. He swore and told himself there was a reason why vanity was a mortal sin, and then started getting it done professionally.

Gil didn't immediately admit to himself that he wanted to look more attractive to Sara. It wasn't until she left and he thought of abandoning his regimen in an illogical act of defiance, that he owned up to the fact that he had been puffing up his biceps and adding color to his hair in a typical male mating ritual designed to attract her. But he didn't abandon the regimen after she left, partly because his new lifestyle had become a habit by then, and because he hadn't felt better physically in years. He became progressively thinner and his muscles bulkier until he felt good in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt again.

Now, all he needed was his old personality back, the one that had brought Sara to Las Vegas in the first place. It was time to bury the guy who had driven her away.

"Gil?"

He looked up sharply. "Hmm?"

"Something on your mind?"

Gil shoved his hands in the pockets of his khaki Dockers. He felt overdressed next to Dan who was wearing shorts and a muscle shirt, but he doubted he would ever wear shorts in public again. "Turning over a new leaf," he said, which earned him a quizzical glance from Dan, but further conversation was cut short when Sara joined them on deck.

"Hey," she said, handing each of them a bottle of beer.

She had removed her shirt and put on an orange-colored baseball cap. Her hair fell through the loop at the back in a short ponytail that made her look like a girl. Gil smiled as he accepted the beer she offered. "Thank you. Aren't you having anything?"

"Too early for me," she said as she leaned back against the railing and turned her face up to the sun.

Dan downed half the bottle in one swallow and sighed forcefully, wiping the moisture from his mouth with the back of his hand. "Nothing like a cold beer on a hot day."

"I know, and somewhere in the world it's cocktail hour," Sara returned teasingly.

"You got it, babe."

Gil set his bottle down next to the controls and left Dan and Sara to their—whatever it was that was so easy and always sounded so intimate between them—and climbed the few steps to the upper deck. There, he busied himself unfolding a stack of lounge chairs. When he had set up the last one, Sara joined him and lifted the cover off a large storage compartment. With a brief smile, she handed him a couple of thick, blue cushions and took the remaining three, and together they laid them out on the chairs.

"You seem to know your way around the boat," Gil remarked casually. "You and Dan do this often?"

She shrugged. "Once in a while, but always on the 4th of July. It's a tradition."

"So I hear." Under the cover of dark shades, Gil watched as Sara looped the last elastic band around the foot of a chair. She was beautifully tanned, naturally lovely. Her ponytail danced in the breeze created by the speed of the boat. He lowered himself to the foot of one of the chaise and propped his forearms on his knees, clasping his hands tightly between them.

"There," she said as she finished securing the last cushion to a chair. She spaced them out in a semi-circle around him and then flashed him a smile.

"Sit with me a minute," he invited when it looked as though she would leave to rejoin Dan, and Melanie who was now standing next to her brother at the controls in what would best be described as a barely-there lime green bikini.

"Okay." Sara perched herself on the edge of a chair and looked at him, waiting for him to speak. Uppermost in his mind was to find out how she felt about Dan, but suddenly words escaped him. Thankfully, Sara broke the silence.

"This must be strange for you."

"What?"

"Spending the day with your ex-girlfriend."

Softly, he asked, "Is that what you were, Sara?"

"I meant Melanie."

"Oh." Of course. He sighed. "Mel was a very long time ago and didn't last very long. We didn't have much in common."

Sara let his words linger for a moment, and then smiled. "I'm not surprised."

"You seem to get along well with her." Gil had been somewhat bewildered by the warm greeting the two women had exchanged earlier. For two women whom he had surmised would have absolutely nothing in common, they seemed genuinely happy to see each other.

"She's nice."

"She thinks you'd make a fabulous sister-in-law." Gil kept his eyes on her face and when she laughed, he relaxed a little.

"She's as delusional as Billy. As the adult in this matchmaking duo I wish she'd stop encouraging his juvenile fantasies."

"Well…perhaps she doesn't think they're unfounded."

Sara's smile faded. "What do you think?"

Gil wished he could see her eyes; they were so expressive, but the twin lines that formed above the bridge of her dark glasses were enough to prompt a careful response. "I think it's possible that you and Dan are only very close friends. I also think that it's possible for someone who has a personal interest in your relationship to mistake that friendship for something more."

Sara sighed. "Billy's looking for a mother, you know."

"I know."

"Melanie only wants her brother to be happy. She told me once that he hasn't been the same since his wife's death."

"He hasn't."

Sara looked at him. "Dan's your friend, so…I'm guessing that you also have a personal interest in our relationship."

He nodded and dropped his gaze to his hands, cursing himself for starting a conversation he suddenly didn't want to have. He looked down at Dan and Melanie, wishing that one of them, or Billy who had joined them, would interrupt. He had managed to convince himself that he needed to know how Sara felt about Dan, but confession time here, he feared that he was on the verge of swallowing a very bitter pill.

"Gris?"

He glanced at her and shook his head. "It's none of my business."

"Is that your way of saying you wouldn't approve?"

"I think Dan's the luckiest man in the world to have your love," he forced himself to say because she deserved no less from him, and he meant it. He rose. "We should join the others. Dan's getting ready to drop anchor."

"Gil." Her hand on his wrist stopped him. He looked down at her. "I do care about Dan. As a friend." Sara let go of his wrist. "We've been there for each other through some rough times and it made us very close. But friends is all we can ever be, regardless of how much Billy and Melanie wish it were different."

"Well," he started, releasing a long breath, "you can't command a heart to love."

Sara lowered her head. "I know."

"Or to stop loving." She looked up at him and he smiled, daring to hope that she wasn't completely lost to him. Dan had dropped anchor on the ocean side of Long Point Beach. Suddenly feeling happier and eager to celebrate this holiday with her, Gil offered Sara a hand up. "Shall we?"

She smiled and accepted his hand. "Let the festivities begin."

Gil playfully dragged her shades down her nose with the tip of his index finger. "You look very cute in that cap by the way."

Her smile widened into a full-blown grin. "Is this part of you turning over a new leaf?"

"Ahh... You heard that."

"Hmm." Mimicking him, she dragged his glasses down his nose and met his gaze. "I like it." And with that she left him to follow her down to the main deck where the others—Billy with ill-concealed impatience, Melanie, off to the side leaning back against the railing in a model's pose and looking like a middle-aged Barbie—waited for them.

"Can I ask her now?" Billy growled at his father.

"It's may I, and yes you may, but you know she's gonna say no," he replied, missing his son's scowl as he concentrated on filling the built-in Compact Disk player with CDs.

Sara looked at Billy. "Ask me what?"

"If you want to fish."

"Billy, you know I don't like fishing, but tell you what. You go ahead and put that line in the water while I get us some munchies, and then I'll watch you for a while. Want something while I'm down there?"

Seemingly satisfied that she would hang out with him even if she didn't fish, Billy grinned; something Gil hadn't witnessed much since his arrival. "Mountain Dew," he replied.

"Mountain Dew it is."

Gil watched Sara go below deck then noticed the two rods propped against the side of the boat. He almost felt sorry for the boy, but the smug look Billy shot him before strolling to port side made those feelings of sympathy vanish. With an internal shrug, Gil picked up his still untouched beer from where he'd left it near the controls and caught Dan's eye. "Thanks," he said sotto voce.

"Did you work things out?" Dan asked in kind.

"Some. It's a start." As a Reggae tune blared out from the CD player, Gil tipped the bottle to his lips and then grimaced. "Warm beer."

XXXXX

THE AFTERNOON WAS off to a fine start. Gil and Dan had set up the grill on the main deck and then transferred the drinks from the cooler to a built-in icebox on the upper deck. Folding cocktail tables were arranged between the lounge chairs; chips, pretzels, and peanuts filled colorful plastic bowls, and the red, white and blue was gently dancing on the ocean breeze.

Melanie was stretched out on one of the chairs soaking up the sun while down below, Sara chatted quietly with Billy as he gigged for fish. Dan brought Gil a cold beer and stood with him at the railing, looking down at his son and Sara.

"Is this a good fishing spot?" Gil asked him.

"As good as any. He'll probably get a few nibbles, but I doubt he'll catch anything at this time of day."

Sara looked up and smiled, then said something to Billy that drew his gaze up to the men who were watching them. His gaze hardened as it briefly landed on Gil before he abruptly turned away, and Gil understood the reaction a moment later when Sara left him to join the adults.

"Your son doesn't like me very much."

"Don't take it personally. It's his standard reaction to any guy who pays attention to Sara. But I do think the time has come for a man-to-man talk with my son. Can you handle the ladies on your own for a while?"

"Hmm?" Gil had stopped paying attention at 'standard reaction', his thoughts turned to a string of faceless men who had been Sara's lovers. How many had there been over the years, he wondered?

"Gil, the ladies…?"

Frowning, Gil glanced up at Dan. "Oh. Sure, you go ahead."

Sara and Melanie were both slapping on sunscreen lotion. Well Sara was slapping it on. Melanie was doing something entirely different with it.

"Gil," she cooed, "will you do my back?"

He took the bottle of lotion she offered and squirted some in his palm. "Turn around," he commanded as he sat on the next chair over. Quickly, he rubbed the lotion into her skin, looking at Sara as he did so. She was watching him, lips pursed in amusement. He slanted a mild smile at her and after finishing with Mel, raised a brow. "Sara?"

"I'm fine," she responded.

Gil rose and went to stand over her. "Your shoulders are getting pink."

Her eyes downcast, Sara tilted her head and looked at her shoulder. "Looks okay to me."

Ignoring her protest, he straddled the lounge chair behind her. "You won't think so tomorrow."

She tossed him a glance over her shoulder. "F-fine," she conceded, her slight stammer pleasing him. There had to be some pretense to her casual friendliness these past few days if the idea of him touching her flustered her this much.

Hiding a smile, Gil squirted some lotion into his hands and slowly, very deliberately, slipped a little finger beneath each strap of her suit and drew them down over her shoulders. He felt her tense when his palms touched her skin. Taking his time, keeping his touch gentle, he massaged the lotion into her shoulders, the base of her neck, over her spine, and as far down her back as the cut of her suit allowed. When his hands traveled back up, he applied a little more pressure, working her knotted muscles with his thumbs. He heard her soft gasp, her head jerked back, and her ponytail brushed against his cheek, sending a sudden rush of desire to his groin. Evidently, Ms. Sidle wasn't completely immune to him, but nor was he to her, and the wise course of action given their audience, was to extract himself from the situation.

Quickly, Gil drew the straps back over Sara's shoulders and got to his feet. He returned the bottle of lotion to Mel who was watching him with undisguised interest.

"Dan tells me you two used to work together."

All Gil could manage was a short utterance of agreement. Snatching his beer, he moved to the edge of the deck, looking over at Long Point Beach and the crowds that had accumulated there, and that would continue to grow throughout the evening for the ten o'clock fireworks display over the harbor. He nursed his beer as he listened to Melanie and Sara talk about her job as a CSI, but it wasn't until Mel asked her why she left, and silence fell between the women, that he reacted by turning to look at Sara.

She quickly dropped her head and shrugged. "It was getting to me."

"How so?"

Sara glanced at Gil, and then at Melanie. "Let's just say that my reasons for getting into CSI were misguided."

"And they were?" Melanie pressed.

"To bring closure to the families of violent crimes."

"But isn't that what you did?" Melanie persisted. "I mean, by finding out what happened and making criminals pay for what they did, didn't you bring some comfort to the families?"

"Comfort?" Sara asked as she rose and went to the cooler for a bottled cocktail. Turning, she looked at Melanie. "No. Not comfort. Answers, maybe, and sometimes not even that. But nothing can take away their pain."

"And that's why you quit?"

Sara sat down and for a thoughtful moment toyed with the edge of the label on the bottle of Sangria. Finally, looking at Melanie, she said, "That was part of it." She lifted a shoulder in a shrug, clearly trying to mask her discomfort with Melanie's interrogation. "It was getting to me," she reiterated in a tone that indicated she didn't care to pursue the conversation.

| MAY 2005 |

"I can't do it anymore, Grissom. I thought this job would help me understand what happened to my family and help me put it to rest, but the opposite is happening. It's keeping it alive and I'm hanging on to my sanity by a thread."

Gil was conflicted. It wasn't that he didn't believe her. He had watched her struggles for a couple of years; watched her get emotionally involved in some cases, and had worried about her. But after receiving counseling, she seemed to cope much better. She seemed happier. Sara thought he didn't notice, but he missed very little that concerned her. He had been acutely aware of her, her moods, her growing relationship with Greg, which was another source of conflict for Gil who wanted her to be happy, but couldn't curb his jealousy. And now she was telling him she couldn't handle the job anymore and it was his duty as her boss and someone who cared about her to let her go.

But her timing was suspicious and his emotions confusing.

"Is that the only reason you want to leave?"

"Isn't it enough?"

"Why now, Sara?"

"You have to let one of us go."

"I have to let Greg go. Not you."

"I know that."

"Is this about my behavior at your apartment last week?" he asked softly.

"N-No," Sara stammered. "No. This isn't sudden, Grissom. I've been thinking about it for a while and I can leave now without disrupting the team."

"It's not only about headcount, Sara. I'd still be trading an experienced CSI for a rookie."

"Greg's good. He's a quick learner."

He sighed. "Have you talked to your counselor about this?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"Let's just say that I've been exposed to enough violence in my life."

Gil nodded sadly. He did understand and he wanted her to know that. But mostly, he wanted to remain professional and his skin was growing clammy, there was a knot forming in his gut, and he couldn't pretend that the bitter taste rising in his throat was out of concern for the lab. "I don't want to let you go," he finally admitted as dread began to turn to panic.

"I appreciate that, Gris. You'll never know how much. But I have to do this—for me."

"Sara—" He stared into her eyes, something that in the best of circumstances tended to fluster him; today they were severely impairing his ability to think. They were darker than usual, a little stricken, he thought, but he saw determination in them as well, and he realized there was nothing he could say to change her mind.

With his heart lodged in his throat, he said, "If you ever want to come back…" and she smiled tightly then politely thanked him. And just as he'd known she wouldn't reconsider her decision to leave, as she walked out of his office, he was equally certain she wouldn't be coming back.

| PRESENT DAY |

"You never regretted it?" Melanie asked.

"Leaving the job? No. Of course, I missed some of it…the lab work, solving puzzles, the people I used to work with. Mostly the people I used to work with."

Gil took the chaise on Sara's left and stretched out, kicking off his shoes. "You were missed too."

Sara looked at him and smiled. "How is everyone?" Without waiting for an answer, she said, "I saw Catherine on TV a few years ago. CNN was broadcasting part of the testimony in the Vegas Strangler case. She stated her name for the record as Willows-Brown. Is she...?"

"Married to Warrick? Yes."

Melanie rose from her chair. "I'll go see what's holding up the boys," she said, and they spared her a glance as she left them alone.

"What happened to the first Mrs. Brown?"

"That union ended as swiftly and unexpectedly as it began. It only lasted six months."

"I'm sorry to hear that, but not surprised."

"No one was. What happened to Nick affected all of us in different ways, but for Warrick it was realizing just how short and unpredictable life can be. He didn't want to waste another minute of his, so he jumped headfirst into a marriage with a woman he barely knew. It was impulsive and he soon realized his mistake."

"Yeah," Sara voiced absently, looking away.

Was she thinking about his own impulsive behavior that night? Warrick wasn't the only one to act rashly in the aftermath of Nick's abduction, though he perhaps had more reason than most. It could just as easily have been him instead of Nick buried alive that night. Gil's actions were similarly motivated, but the cost to him proved much greater over the years.

"Well, at least it turned out well for him in the end," he mused aloud. "He and the first Mrs. Brown parted amicably six months later, and had it not been for his marriage and Catherine's reaction to it, he might never have known how she felt about him. I wasn't so lucky."

"What do you mean?"

"Warrick wasn't alone in making rash decisions that night, Sara. I don't think I've adequately apologized to you for my actions."

Her expression sobered significantly. "Actually, Grissom, you have. Repeatedly."

"So you did get my emails."

Ignoring his comment, Sara set her unfinished bottle of Sangria on a side table, and jumped to her feet. She dropped her sunglasses on the chair and kicked off her sandals. "I'm going for a swim."

Gil sat up. "Here? Is it safe?"

"Sure it is. I do it all the time. Besides, I'm a really good swimmer."

In a swift motion, she removed her shorts, threw them on the chair and strode off as if she couldn't get away from him fast enough.

"Sara—"

She already had a foot on the first step leading down to the main deck, but just as abruptly as she'd left, she stopped and turned to look at him. "What?" she muttered between clenched teeth.

Gil blinked, surprised by her anger. "Be careful," he said simply.

XXXXX

Sara's sudden spark of anger tormented Gil for the remainder of the day. Nothing in her behavior until then had ever hinted at residual feelings from their past. And when she climbed aboard the boat after her swim, she was once again full of grace and good humor as if that moment of awkwardness between them hadn't happened. But he noticed that she carefully avoided being alone with him again.

After dinner, Melanie told them stories of Hollywood parties she had attended, the celebrities she had met, the homes she had visited, all in rich detail, sparing none. She could have been a successful storyteller, Gil thought, had she ever learned the concept of less is more, especially when she shared intimate accounts of the lives of people they had never met. Gil had forgotten that minor annoyance about her. And despite zoning out through most of it, he still knew more than he had ever hoped to know about Jane and Louise, the wife and daughter of a famous Hollywood actor whose name he vaguely recalled.

While Dan humored his sister, asking questions that led to more colorful tales, and Billy asked about Britney Spears and was disappointed when Mel admitted that she had never met her, Sara remained quiet. Gil often glanced at her, and once caught her hiding a yawn behind a fist, whether out of boredom or because she was genuinely tired he wasn't sure until she responded to his knowing smile by sucking in her lips to abort one of her own.

At ten o'clock they stood at the railing on the upper deck to watch the fireworks, and by eleven-thirty they were home. Everyone immediately turned in for the night, pleading exhaustion after a day in the sun. When they dropped her off, Sara had seemed even more exhausted than the lot of them, reminding Gil that she had started the day looking tired. So when a little past midnight the house was quiet and he left his room for the porch, he was surprised to see the glow of light above her private patio.

The urge to go to her was stronger than ever. Gil didn't miss the irony. Until the very end of their relationship six years ago, he had carefully avoided situations that could lead to dangerous, intimate conversations with her. And now, he yearned for just that. He wanted to know what had made her so angry earlier that it had propelled her into the cool waters of the ocean. He wanted to know what was keeping her up at night. He wanted to know everything she was hiding from him, including why she had never responded to his emails. But most of all, he wanted to make love with her so badly that he would gladly give up all that knowledge for one night with her.

"Why don't you go see her?"

Gil started, stiffened. Over his shoulder, he glanced at Dan. "I thought you were in bed."

"I heard you leave your room. You do it every night."

Gil shoved his hands into his pockets, his gaze once more drawn next door. "I searched for her for six years," he admitted softly, his voice strangled with emotions he quickly masked with a chuckle. "Even after I gave up hope of finding her, I'd still fantasize about what I'd say to her if I ever saw her again."

"What did you want to say to her?"

"In a nutshell?" He glanced at Dan then looked over at Summerhouse again. "That I still love her."

"I take it you haven't told her."

Gil shook his head. "I never did. And now, she doesn't want to hear it." He sighed deeply, wearily, and turned away from the light. "Anyway," he said, "time for bed."