A/N: Thank you to all who have found this story and huge appreciation to those who have left reviews and words of encouragement!
Out There: Chapter 2
Sara Sidle's future plans had not included the Pacific Ocean but here she was. It felt like the storm had passed; the wind had died and waves no longer pounded the ship. She thought they were about half way to Hawaii but her memory of the previous two days, maybe three, was foggy at best. The blinds were opened enough for her to see a blue rectangle of sky from the bed but she did not move for fear of bringing on another round of nausea and vomiting.
Her plans did not include seasickness, she thought.
Almost laughing, but wary of potential sickness, she smiled instead. Her mouth was as dry as gravel in a sandy desert but reaching for water would mean movement. Listening intently, she could hear the turn of papers and knew her husband was near.
Husband. Just thinking about him made her smile. A husband had not been in her future plans either. Thirty months after disappearing from her life, Gil Grissom showed up in Vegas; she was furious he'd returned to 'help' with a terrifying case because of the mention of Heather Kessler. She'd surprised him, seeing him standing in the lab, looking a bit lost which made her determined not to show her emotions. As other arrived, the same thought she'd had over and over came to her mind.
'If you love someone, sometimes the best thing you can do for them is to let them go.' And she knew all those old clichés of 'things pass' and 'time heals' are just that. Her resolve strengthened; she'd show him a professional side of the person she had become in his absence.
As the complicated case unfolded, it did not take long for her to remember how well they worked together; how his silence caused her to talk incessantly or, at times, to maintain a comfortable silence. She was long passed the point of believing he would return to her when he realized he could not live without her. He had not come back for her but for another. Quietly, unemotional, she worked with the only man she would ever love, listened as he talked about whales and his boat, stood beside him as a mad man threatened to blow them up, and treasured a moment of acknowledgement as she was promoted.
When she heard the words he had spoken to Heather Kessler, she had dropped her head to the desk and cried. Why was she heartbroken by his words yet not surprised that he would say this to a woman who had come between them more than once. Finally, she wiped her face. Perhaps this was always meant to be, she thought as she made a few phone calls and, in the middle of the night, she said good-bye to those closest to her and boarded an early morning plane to San Diego.
Now, as she tried to sleep on a ship headed to Hawaii, she knew this was a new beginning. This trip was a dream; her dear husband loved the challenge of running a research lab and solving problems. And the group thought enough of him that they had given his new wife a job as his assistant.
For the second time, she almost laughed out loud. Because she was licensed and trained to carry a gun, she was also in charge of firearms which were locked away in a cabinet—she and the ship's Captain were the only ones with the combination.
Her exhausted lethargy and thirst made her restless but to resist moving she turned her thoughts to the beautiful cabin they would call home for three months. It was like staying in a very nice house except one did not have to cook. The cruise ship had been skillfully altered and adapted for research with modern labs and equipment with improvements added to improve the odd shaped living spaces. This cabin was a large oval, windows curving around two sides, the bed snugged into an alcove with built-in shelves surrounding it. Smiling, she thought about their bathroom with its gleaming fixtures and space for two people compared to the tiny-toilet-only head on Grissom's boat. At least she had not been seasick while on the Ishmael.
Suddenly, her husband was at the bedside, bringing the glass of cool water to her lips. As she emptied the glass, he was telling her about the storm and the wind and offering to make tea. The nausea hit quickly; as soon as she sat up she knew her seasickness had returned.
Sara returned to bed, hugging a trash can, and managed to make some kind of response before Grissom left for the clinic.
As she lay in the quiet room, willing her stomach to calm, she began to think like a scientist. She'd never been seasick, not even a twinge of motion sickness on wild rollercoaster rides. Seldom felt nauseous or queasy except when handling certain body fluids. As her thoughts collected, an unexpected notion niggled around the edge of her thoughts, finally coalescing into one thought.
Her last period had been the week of her birthday; a week before Gil Grissom had returned to Vegas. But she could not be pregnant, not at forty-four years old, not after trying for years and seeing fertility specialists who were puzzled by their lack of success. She had taken fertility drugs, had attempted IVF three times—to be spontaneously pregnant at her age—she shook her head in disbelief.
She couldn't be pregnant, she muttered, and said it again several times.
Yet with each denial, she knew the truth was likely to be she was. They had made no efforts to practice safe sex or any method of birth control. She did laugh out loud as she remembered the sex—both admitted they had lived celibate lives, using work as a sedative, numbing memories and heartache. Long after nightfall, when they seemed to be at the end of the world, but in reality were tied to a buoy near Dana Point, they moved, somewhat clumsy, together on the narrow berth. She had kissed him, he caressed her, their lips locked, legs entwined. Desire and pleasure came; remembered intimacy erased any awkwardness between them.
After that first night, they had lost count of the times they had made love. Sara's hand covered her face as a knot of hot desire developed deep within her body. Her husband was not in the room and she was hot and damp thinking about him—and would probably throw-up right in the middle of love-making. She laughed again before biting her lip in distress. Her emotions were swinging back and forth so fast, from giggles to tears in seconds.
Tears formed in her eyes; a pregnancy was definitely not planned. Then more tears flooded her eyes as she thought about the probability of false hope and the high possibility of an early end to a pregnancy. When she heard the door opening, she wiped her face, sighed heavily, and, as they had promised no secrets, decided she would tell him her worries immediately.
When her husband handed her a pregnancy test, she did cry with relief.
A few minutes later, she fell back into bed and said "I left it by the sink—I can't look."
A/N: More to come! Thank you for taking time to read and to send words of encouragement! Long live GSR-and if you can, watch some of the original CSI episodes-amazing how good those episodes continue to be!
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