A/N: As there seemed to be some confusion about Chapter 1, we are posting Chapter 2 today.

An Unusual Sequence of Events

Chapter 2

Confusion: the state of being perplexed

A cold sweat covered his body; the sheet had been thrown from his narrow bed and even his boxers seemed damp. The rain continued to pound on the metal roof and as he lifted the sheet from the floor, he felt a sprinkle of water across his back. Finding his flashlight, he shined it upwards. Water, a long line of dripping rainwater was coming through the roof.

He sat up, found his shoes, and in darkness managed to move the bed about three feet to the middle of the floor. He sat down on the bed and tried to recall his dream—something not pleasant, he thought. And how in the world did an old college girlfriend get in his dream? His dream was a nightmare, a confusing conglomeration of an old girlfriend and secret fears. He wanted to be a good husband, hopefully a good father, to keep his promises. The thunder rumbled, echoing against the mountains; the sky lit up with lightening. Wrapping the sheet around him, he settled back into bed. Only, the constant drip-drip-drip of rain drumming into his brain kept him awake. He covered his face with the thin pillow and closed his eyes.

"I'll think of Sara," he said to himself. He chuckled remembering how she had explained to his mother they were planning a baby. His mother had thought a baby was actually on the way and in ten minutes the two women he loved had made a list of names and pulled up an internet site about decorating a baby's room. He would not even attempt to imagine what the two had done while he was away.

His thoughts drifted to the fertility clinic—very caring, compassionate professionals—he had no idea of the problems, the number of couples who had problems with conceiving a baby. The process scared him—he had talked to Doc Robbins about all of this and had a thorough physical after hearing about the advanced and invasive procedures if first attempts did not succeed.

This time sleep did not come; instead, he dosed a few minutes and then the sound of rain and thunder woke him again and again until finally he gave up. The lightening flashed so brightly it seemed to come into the building. He was halfway out of bed, that moment between sitting and standing, when a tremendous quaking crash reverberated throughout the house. The bed shook, his watch and glasses rattled on the table top, metal screeched, and wood shuddered. For an instant he thought "earthquake", and then the confused shouts and yells of the other men came as a great vibration convulsed across the building.

It had never happened to him before, but Grissom knew a tree had fallen on the house. Grabbing his flashlight, he was in the hallway with the others as confusion mounted for several minutes and quickly dissipated when they managed to shine lights into the large kitchen-dining area where an enormous tree had fallen. Limbs, branches, and sodden leaves reflected their lights and made it impossible to see what was left of the building.

One man uttered a common thought, "holy shit!"

In the dark with several flashlights, the men decided there was little to be done until they had more light. Grissom was so exhausted he thought sleep would come quickly as he straightened the sheets before crawling between them. But his body resisted as new sounds filled his ears. The building creaked and groaned, the weight of the rain soaked tree cracked as it settled into the broken roof, and the constant dripping hitting the floor made sleep impossible.

Getting up again and walking to the window, he thought he could detect a faint grey light and checked his watch. Surely with dawn the rain would stop or slow. He was certain the others would agree it was time to leave, even in the rain, and get to the village where the local daily bus would take them to a busy highway where another bus would take them into the city. Everything was packed into cases each man could carry and a backpack held personal items.

Maybe, he thought, if they were lucky, a telephone would be working in the village or the sun would come out. He pulled on damp pants and found a shirt. Coffee was probably not going to be possible this morning, but using his flashlight, he thought he might find a way underneath the fallen tree's foliage to locate food. He wasn't the only one to think of food; two other men were already crawling over and under massive limbs by the time he got to the wrecked section of the house.

In short order, they found food and water, but also discovered the water pump has been destroyed by the tree so a few bottles of water were all they had. The entire end wall of the building had been knocked down along with a large section of the roof and by the time the others joined them, everyone knew they would have to leave—rain or not. And it kept raining.

The building, while well built, was a simple structure, used by different research groups for a few weeks at a time. Each group brought what was needed, hauled it in, and what was not used, was taken away when they left. As Grissom's group expected to stay a week, they had not brought much, and left with less. Wrapping themselves in plastic rain ponchos, they started out, an easy walk on any day except today.

The smell of earth permeated the air; the tree on the building had not been the only to one fall in the night. Leaves covered the path, and more than once they crawled over a downed tree; in other places they walked in mud sliding over and covering any trace of their path. And they did not talk much. When someone stumbled, a hand was held out; many times the person leading the way called out a warning of rushing water, deep muck, or low hanging trees.

Finally, more than an hour after starting out, the group rounded a curve and, even though hard to see, they squinted through the rain and made out the roofs of the small village in the distance. The narrow path opened up to a muddy dirt road, now knee deep in ruts, but at least cleared enough so they could walk easier. Walking past fields, they saw no one—only fools would be out in this weather with rain soaking faces and mud covering clothes.

The streets—two paved crossroads—were deserted, but all of the men smelled food and after cold beans and canned tomatoes for several days, they would have paid a king's ransom for a bowl of hot food. They also knew where the local cantina was located and looking like the refuges they were, automatically, they turned at the corner and all breathed a sigh of relief when they saw the metal shutters rolled open and the porch nearly empty of customers.

There was much confusion when the men entered—several men watching a television set turned and look at the wet, mud-covered group. As rainwater dripped from their clothes, everyone seemed to take several minutes to comprehend what was happening. The researchers heard of the nation-wide disaster for the first time from the television news reporter; the locals figured out the drenched men were the researchers from the mountain side and instantly everyone started talking.

Hours later, as if by some miracle, Grissom's belly was full of roasted chicken, beans, and rice, washed down with local beer, he was wearing borrowed clothes, and resting in a clean, dry bed in a family's home. The other men has been similarly fed, clothed, and housed in the small village; everyone was excited to have something to talk about other than the monsoon rains, the washed out roads, and the flooding in the valleys.

The house where Grissom was a guest was small, with three tiny bedrooms and one bathroom, but the children smiled, hiding grins behind their hands, as they made room for the stranger who wore baggy pants belonging to their father. Grissom heard the quiet sounds of the family going to bed as he lay in the narrow bed, a clean blanket spread over the mattress, and paint peeling off the ceiling.

He didn't think he would sleep easily with his mind troubled by his delayed return and the impossibility of getting a message to Sara, but his eyes finally closed as he stared at the ceiling and thought of where he wanted to be…

Sudden screaming jerked him awake—into the kitchen of his house—how did he get here—where toys and bottles and diapers and dirty dishes covered every surface. A pile of laundry was heaped on the floor; another messy heap of clothing covered the table. Not one but two babies were crying from colorful swings; his mother was bent over one swing attempting to lift an unhappy baby who was belted into the swing. His wife, her back to him, was making 'shushing' noises to the other crying infant. He knew better than to interfere with the child care his wife and his mother practiced. The smell of something burning met his nose. His wife turned, her hands were signing as her face distorted with anger.

He grabbed a hot pad, opened the oven and removed a prepared dinner, burned around the edges, but it still seemed edible. As the children screamed, he reached into the back of a cabinet and poured himself a shot of whiskey, stopped briefly, and continued pouring until several inches filled the glass. As he lifted the glass to his lips, the housekeeper ran into the kitchen.

The woman spoke Spanish most of the time and he clearly understood her to say "I have to do everything in this house! I do not know how you people live when I am not here!"

She took the hot pad from Grissom and shooed him out of the way. Just as quickly, she reached for the baby girl who instantly quieted as the woman sang a soothing Mexican lullaby to her. His mother turned to his wife and the two women signed to each other; Grissom did not even try to follow their conversation. One baby was quiet while the other continued to scream; his wife and his mother seemed unaware of the crying. He took a step toward the infant as the housekeeper reached for the swing, unsnapped the belt and easily lifted the baby into her arms. Deciding to stay away from the circus in the kitchen, he swallowed his liquid lunch and headed to the living room where the television was on.

His old recliner chair had disappeared; a play pen filled with toys had taken its place. The sofa was nearly covered in blankets, toys, an infant carrier, more diapers. A purple dinosaur was dancing around on the big screen of the television. "This is hell," he mumbled as he cleared a place to sit.

Just as he settled on the sofa with the remote, his wife appeared. She ate three grapes before she removed the remote from his hand. She signed "The children need vocal stimulation."

He did not point out that the children were not in the living room.

His wife continued signing, "It's good for the children. Don't be so selfish. I thought you said this marriage would be perfect! I want perfect children! How can you be so selfish!"

When he made no response, she clapped her hands to get his attention, moved between the television and where Grissom sat and signed "I'm full. Lunch is burned. If you and your mother want to eat, you have to order it." She turned and stomped out of the room, taking the remote with her.

He was confused; he had never meant to marry Julia! How had this happened? This was not where he wanted to be…this was not what he wanted…

A/N: Thanks for reading! Happy weekend!