A/N: A new story! Long live GSR!
Out There: Leaving Las Vegas
A/N: Anthony Zuiker's interview after Immortality made a prediction of the future for Sara Sidle and Gil Grissom. Here it is: DEADLINE: If there is a CSI: 10 Years Later special a decade from now, where will we see the main characters? Will Gil and Sara still be roaming the seas?
ZUIKER: I believe so. I believe in my heart 10 years from now that Grissom and Sara not only are conquering the seas and sailing the oceans but they are also probably saving the environment on land and sea. They would probably have children and they would dedicate their lives to the betterment of humanity.
Chapter 1: Late 2015
An unseasonal storm had blown along the entire coast of California one day after the Blue Ocean research ship left its port and while the ship had avoided the major tract of the storm, it had been affected by rolling waves and a chilling misty rain that kept most of the crew and passengers finding places inside. A light mist continued to hang in the hazy sky as the ship knifed through a rolling ocean headed to Hawaii.
The vessel had once been an opulent passenger ship for wealthy tourists but the owners had donated it, along with several million dollars for refurbishment, to one of the premier oceanography research centers in the world. After several years of use, the ship had been leased to a smaller organization specializing in the study of endangered marine life.
Even as an older ocean-going vessel, it carried several remote operated vehicles, one autonomous underwater vehicle, a small yellow submersible, and six inflatable Zodiacs stacked on deck. The automated ship required a working crew of twelve with another dozen or so people working in housekeeping, kitchen, and laundry. Forty-two research scientists and various assistants rounded out the rest of the population on the vessel.
Which was the 'why' Gil Grissom was sitting in a comfortable cabin reading a stack of research papers, mentally assigning a name and face with each project. He was officially the lab manager for all these projects.
How it happened went back several years to a time he volunteered for a research project along a remote coastline of Alaska. A few months ago, he had spent a week with other like-minded people who chased poachers, who tracked down those who cut fins from living sharks, who killed endangered marine life for specific parts believed to provide magical benefits to humans, and who hunted dolphins, sharks, and whales for sport. With unique knowledge and experience, the group was being recruited by a legitimate scientific organization to work on their research vessels; Grissom was one of three who had previously worked with the group.
His name had gone on a list and finally, in early August, he'd gotten the call to join this group. But several changes had happened in his life; the primary event was his marriage.
Grinning, his eyes left the stack of files as he glanced toward the bedroom alcove; so much had changed since August. His smile grew as he watched the sleeping form for several moments before returning to the files but his thoughts went back to the night he'd been arrested and events that followed.
An arrest record would have prevented him from working on this ship—or any other legitimate research group—so the phone call from Conrad Ecklie had an immediate response. Instantaneously, he knew he'd have to face a situation he had been ignoring for months—Sara Sidle.
He had been right. Sara Sidle was furious; she'd fumed for a while before each realized how much they enjoyed each other. He had left Vegas without her, without telling her of his regrets, of his wish to set things right—to apologize for his actions. Yet, he'd spoken to Heather Kessler, the person who had figured out years ago how much he loved Sara; afterwards, he had slipped out of Vegas, quickly and quietly, hiding his personal misery while proud of Sara's professional success.
He had never been able to tell her how much he loved her. How her tolerance and understanding and acceptance had made him feel confident in the world. Yet in the intimacy of a love affair—and marriage—he had feelings of insecurity. Sara made everything different.
By joining their lives, he had become a hostage to fortune; she could become bored with him. She could leave him or decide he was ridiculous or old. None of which he thought would happen, but it could. And then—in lonely, cold nights away from her—he began to believe his doubts. She would be better off without him, to be with someone younger. He had lived with regret and sorrow ever since saying those words.
When she had arrived in San Diego, silhouetted by the rising sun, he'd thought he was seeing a mirage. When her hand met his, when he felt her arms around his shoulders, without a word, his doubts and fears had disappeared.
After spending the day in serious conversation, at times struggling with emotions, eventually laughing and talking about their misguided past and planning a future, almost forgetting to eat, they had left on his boat as the brilliant red sky changed minute by minute, the boat rising and falling on an incoming tide.
He made a satisfying sigh, settling back to his work for a few minutes before hearing a rustle of bedding and movement from the bed. Quickly, he stood and moved to the bed.
"Hey," he whispered as Sara turned and disentangled one arm from underneath the covers. He sat on the edge of the bed and watched as Sara's eyes opened; a smile appeared on her face.
His beautiful wife—they had married two weeks after she had joined him—yawned and nestled her head into a pillow. Her face was pale, dark circles under her eyes suggested the sea sickness she had suffered since the first night on the ship. When she licked her lips, he reached for a tumbler holding water.
He said, "Take a sip." His hand slipped behind her head, lifting it so she could swallow.
"I hope we are out of rough seas," she whispered. "I can't remember being this sick."
"The Captain says the storm along the coast caused a shift in wind that made the pitch and toss of the boat more sea sick-inducing than usual." When she smiled, Grissom shrugged his shoulders and gave her a quirky smile. "You are not the only one who's been sick."
Placing the empty glass on a wide shelf next to the bed, Sara sat up, saying, "I might be able to face the dinner table tonight."
"You haven't eaten anything in three days," said Grissom.
"Rice," she said. "And tea."
He moved to rise from the bed, saying, "I'll make you a cup of tea."
In the few minutes it took to heat water in an electric kettle, Sara went into the bathroom—spacious in comparison to the head on his boat. As he poured water into a cup, he heard the unmistakable sounds of retching. In the seconds it took for him to reach the doorway, Sara continued to heave into the sink.
Waving her hand, she was able to garble "only water" before lowering her head again. Grissom watched for a moment before stepping around, finding a wash cloth and a trash can before pointing to the toilet.
"Ahh, honey," he said as he helped her sit down and wiped her face. "What do you need? Another Dramamine?"
The ship's nurse had handed out the standard seasickness patches or pills to everyone showing up with a queasy stomach.
He added, "Maybe the patch will work better?"
Sara retched again and he got a glass from the cabinet, filled it with water, and handed it to her. "Better to actually throw something up."
A few minutes later, Sara managed to tumble back into bed, holding the trash can against her chest. "I cannot believe this," she said. "I've never had a hint of seasickness before this."
Grissom tucked the bed covers over her legs and said, "Will you stay in bed while I go get a patch?"
He got a mumble and a nod that seemed an answer before he left.
When he arrived at the ship's clinic, he was met by the two nurses, the older named Dottie, the younger was Alex, who asked a dozen questions, offered to visit Sara, and when he declined, they filled a paper bag with several patches, electrolyte powder, and a pack of motion sickness pills.
As the older nurse, Dottie, closed the bag, she asked, "How often is she sick? After she eats or all day?"
His quick answer was "All day" but he changed it, saying, "When she gets out of bed—as long as she…" He paused, adding, "She can sleep but anything that goes in her mouth seems to come up a few minutes later."
Thoughtfully, the nurse held the bag another moment before turning to a cabinet, reaching for a small box, and dropping it into the bag. Closing it again, she handed it to Grissom, saying, "Sara said you two had recently married. You might want to—to—ahh—use the HCG test."
It took a few seconds for it to register. Grissom had never been one to feel faint or weak in the knees but when the other nurse scooted a chair in his direction, he took it.
"No—no," he stammered, "yes, we did get married—but we've been together—a long time." Stumbling over his words, he said, "We—we were together for years and never—it just didn't happen."
When he paused, the older nurse said: "Everyone else is over seasickness—the other most likely cause of nausea and vomiting when no one else is sick…"
His hand raked across his face. "We did—we had a lot of tests that were always 'inconclusive' not that she couldn't—she—we—we just didn't."
The nurse had already opened Sara's health record and ran her finger along the screen. "Dr. Grissom, when Sara sent her medical history, one of the questions is date of last period." Turning the screen so Grissom could read it, she pointed to an entry. Her eyebrow lifted slightly in an unspoken question.
Shaking his head in disbelief, he said, "She hasn't had—I'd know—we haven't given it a thought." Then as a smile appeared, he passed his hand across his face. "Neither of us expected this."
Both nurses smiled, resting elbows on the countertop. Dottie said, "If she is, we can get her an appointment in Hilo to get checked out."
By the time he reached their cabin, he had removed and read the directions. Finding Sara in the same position as he'd left her, he suddenly wondered how he should raise the subject of pregnancy testing. He tossed the bag onto the table and with several steps he was next to the bed, leaning over to brush a lock of hair away from Sara's face.
Before he could say anything, Sara turned and said, "Gil." Her lips trembled a brief moment before she managed a pale smile. Her voice quivered with uncertainty as she said, "Gil—I—I haven't had a period since—before I came to San Diego." Tears formed along her lashes before one ran from the edge of her eye. She continued, "I—honestly—I thought I was too old—only once before—do you remember?"
Her hand covered her eyes as he leaned to kiss her forehead. He said, "We can find out—the nurse—Dottie—sent a test." He managed to chuckle and kissed her again, saying "I'll stir up an electrolyte drink. You need to pee on a stick."
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