Grissom stood in the kitchen, surrounded by worms, the barking dog and the kitten; who now appeared to be using the worms as soccer balls and was batting them under the table. He heard Sara gag and vomit into the toilet, and cringed. She had confessed to him that during her last two weeks at CSI the sight of worms and maggots made her incredibly nauseated and she thought that it must be pregnancy related, since bugs were something she dealt with on a regular basis without adverse reactions. Quickly he ousted Hank to the confines of the garden, and then scooped up Juliet and put her in the living room before shutting himself in the kitchen to get rid of the problem and clean up.
In the bathroom Sara washed her hands and face, trying to get the essence of worms off her skin. It didn't work, rather washing just limited parts of her body made the rest of her feel as though the bugs were crawling on her; with a quiet growl she started the shower and scrubbed religiously, as though she had just spent hours digging through trash or processing human soup. Shivering despite the warm water she washed, rinsed and conditioned her hair thoroughly and soaped her body twice, her feet three times while the memory of the worm mushing against her sock played through her consciousness, filling her with a kind of paranoid horror. Grissom arrived in the bedroom just as Sara finished drying her hair; he got straight in the shower after checking she was alright. Dressed, he found her sprawled on the bed waiting for him, tickling Juliet while Romeo lay across her shoulders, his nose in her ear. Grissom sank down next to her.
"You feeling better?" he asked, running his fingers through her hair. She grimaced, shivering involuntarily.
"Just tell me you got rid of them," she said.
"I did," he promised. "I can't believe it bothers you of all people; big bad Sara Sidle who handles human soup and jigsaw puzzles."
"Please don't remind me," she groaned. "It all makes me feel sick."
"We can't have that," he smiled, stroking her cheek. "I'll just have to distract you."
"How are you going to do that?" she asked, letting go of Juliet as the kitten leapt over her head and tackled Romeo; both felines rolled over the edge of the bed and streaked out the door. Grissom grinned and murmured
"Like this," before pressing his lips gently to Sara's.
"That might work," she agreed when he pulled back, "but only for a moment or two," she continued. Grissom laughed and rolled her gently onto her back, moving with her as he kissed her again, longer and more passionately. "Mmm..." she mumbled against his lips, sighing with pleasure.
"Have I told you today how much I love you?" she whispered when his lips left hers and he gazed down into her eyes.
"I don't believe so," he returned, nuzzling her neck. "How much?" he teased, leaning on an elbow and gazing at her, brushing hair from her face. Sara grinned and hooked her legs around his, rolling them both over so she was leaning down over him.
"This much," she murmured, before pressing her lips to his.
Their make out session was rudely interrupted by the abrupt and rather harsh sound of the doorbell ringing. Sara groaned as Gil stood, pulling her with him,
"That'll be Anders," he sighed, kissing her one last time before heading off to let their guide in. Sara quickly combed her mussed hair and straightened her clothes, then followed her husband. He was in the living room, trying to restrain Hank and Juliet at the same time; both were vying for the newcomer's attention. Sara whistled and Hank stopped struggling and sat calmly. She whistled a second note and he offered a paw to Anders, who shook it in amazement. Griss was staring at her. She grinned and winked.
"Good morning Mrs Grissom," he said, scratching Hank behind the ears.
"Hello," said Sara cheerfully, scooping up Juliet to stop her from climbing on Hank. "It's Sara, please."
"Alright, have you eaten yet?" asked Anders. When Grissom replied that they hadn't, Anders suggested a late breakfast and a chance to talk through any questions or concerns before a tour and then time for Grissom to acquaint himself with the job. Sitting next to her husband in the quiet little diner Sara sipped her tea and listened as their guide chattered away about the school and the area in general.
"Do you think I can get access to the libraries?" she asked Anders, while they waited for their food. She tried not to eye his coffee with envy. He seemed surprised at her question.
"I'm sure that won't be a problem, but can I ask why?"
"I'm working on a couple of journal articles and I need to do a little research before I finish them. I prefer to look at actual books than read online copies."
"I see," said Anders.
"My wife is also a scientist," said Grissom, his fingers tapping a private message in Morse code on Sara's knee under the table. "We have co-authored several biology and entomology papers together in the last few years during our travels."
"I'm sorry," said Anders, honestly contrite. "I just assumed that were involved in another field."
"It's ok," said Sara, waving away his concerns. "You're not the first to think that; several people in France made the same mistake. We met through science though; at a forensics conference."
"You're a CSI?" asked Anders, intrigued.
"I was, until about a week ago. For now I'm here, with some writing and reviewing to do."
"Would you by any chance be the same author S. A. Sidle in the American Journal of Forensic Science?"
"Yes," she answered with a nod.
"Impressive," he said, "I like your work. I always assumed that S. A. Sidle was a man."
"I've only just changed my name academically," she shrugged. "As of last month it's hyphenated."
Sara's fingers tapped a reply on Gil's knee, her irritation with their guide dissipating as he showed interest and genuine remorse for his mistake. They continued with their breakfast and then returned to the car for a tour of the campus, after which Anders dropped Sara back off at the cottage before whisking Grissom away to meet the biology staff and to get settled in his office.
With Hank bounding around the garden chasing imaginary rabbits, Sara set about unpacking. She was tidying the living room to her exacting specifications when she heard the sound of an unhappy engine outside and went to the door to investigate. Her neighbour was struggling with an old F150, which spluttered some more and then died completely. The woman, in her mid fifties and dressed in a thick coat and boots got out and visibly sighed with frustration, running a hand through her already mussed hair. Sara shoved her feet into her own boots and pulled a jacket on over her sweater before ambling over to meet her new neighbour.
Grissom followed a guide around the biology building, meeting people, memorizing pathways and room numbers and receiving all sorts of information and advice. When Anders came back from his errand, full of apologies for disappearing for nearly two hours, Grissom was more than ready to move on to the admin building where he was issued with staff id and more information. When Anders finally pulled up at the little cottage Grissom lifted the large box of supplies and information he had accrued in the last few hours and carried it into the house. When he called out to Sara there was no response. He walked back out to find Hank greeting Anders all over again. Looking around he spotted a very familiar pair of jean clad legs sticking out from under an old pickup truck. Laughing to himself he strode over, a confused Anders trailing him. He stopped by the truck.
"Hello dear," he called. Sara rolled out from under the front end, her hair in a sloppy ponytail and a streak of engine oil down her left cheek.
"Hey, how'd it go? I'm almost done here. Another half hour maybe."
"You're not getting cold are you?" asked Grissom, concerned. It was not warm outside.
"No, I'm fine. And Mrs Wallis makes amazing chocolate chip and coconut cookies," she added, grinning up at him.
"This is her truck?"
"Nope. It belongs to her husband, but he won't get rid of it and it keeps breaking down."
"It's older than I am," commented Grissom. "Well, hurry up, we need to go and get some food sometime today." Sara grinned at him, and vanished back under the car. Shaking his head, Grissom turned to go into his new home. Anders was staring at Sara, shocked.
"She's a woman of many talents," said Grissom, smiling. "Sara can take apart an engine faster than all the men on her team put together. I traded with her to get out of auto detail on more than one occasion," he commented, frowning at the way Anders continued to stare at Sara's legs. "Thank you for your help today." The other man seemed to pull himself together, answered that it was his pleasure and left. Shaking his head again, Grissom went into the house and sat down to read through some of the material he had been given earlier.
Sara rolled out from under the truck and replaced her tools in Mrs Wallis' tool box, returning it to the garage. Getting the keys she started the truck; it roared to life thunderously and happily.
"All done," she said, sticking her head into the kitchen. Mrs Wallis looked up with a relived grin, and handed Sara a box of fresh cookies.
"Thank you so much; that truck has been such a nuisance for the last twenty years, and John still refuses to part with it."
"No problem," smiled Sara, "thanks for the cookies. Let me know if you have any more issues."
"Absolutely, and if you need anyone to introduce you to the area, come on over." Sara thanked her again and left, whistling cheerfully to herself. Grissom looked at her as she came in.
"We're not here even a full day and already you're taking cars apart?" he teased, taking the box so Sara could wash her greasy hands. She laughed, and asked about his tour. They spent the rest of the afternoon searching for a grocery store, and stocking up on food and other necessaries. Early evening found them on the sofa after a dinner of soup and toasties; Grissom sat reading an entomology text while Sara lay with her head in his lap reading the American Journal of Physics. It was a while before Grissom realized that Sara's breathing was light and even, that her body was relaxed and her journal was in danger of slipping to her floor. He carefully marked his page and hers, and put both books aside before cautiously sliding out from under her. Lifting her carefully, he carried her to bed and gently removed her clothes. He fetched his book, checked the animal dishes and the doors, and then crawled in next to her, gently stroking her hair.
At eight thirty the next morning Sara was still sound asleep, and Gil could tell by her breathing and body position that it would be awhile before she woke. As he slipped out of bed, he mused over how much better her sleeping habits had become since they had discovered the pregnancy. In the kitchen he let Hank out into the garden and then assembled his ingredients and tools, working with the precision of a scientist, and the careful devotion of a lover. A little after nine he carried a tray into the bedroom and, shedding his robe, slipped back under the covers, sitting up against the headboard. He waited as the pleasant aromas drifted toward his wife and her facial expression shifted. She yawned and opened her eyes slowly, a smile spreading across her face.
"Good morning dear," he murmured, as she pushed herself into sitting position and leant over to kiss him.
"Hi," she yawned, her voice still heavy with sleep. He passed her one of two plates covered in pancakes topped with strawberries, raspberries, blackberries and blueberries, and a mug of tea. Gil watched her face as she took a bite and closed her eyes, humming with pleasure. Smiling to himself he began to eat.
"That was so good," sighed Sara, as she stacked their plates and mugs on the bedside table and turned, snuggling into him. She pressed a soft kiss to his collarbone, "Love you," she murmured.
They had a lazy day, unpacking and then exploring the campus with Hank, who seemed delighted with the vast, open, green spaces that surrounded him. On the evening before teaching began they slipped quietly into bed and snuggled together.
"You ready?" she yawned, tucking her head into his shoulder.
"Yes, it'll be good I think." Sara sighed happily against him, her eyes closed and sleep closing around her like a friendly blanket. "By the way," he said, tugging the blankets into a better position, "when did you teach Hank to shake hands?"
"I got bored without you," she mumbled. "He does lots of," but she didn't finish the thought, instead succumbing to slumber. Grissom grinned to himself and turned out the light.