A/N: New chapter-enjoy!
Out There Part Two
Chapter 7
It had been a dry winter and the wilderness area had dried until every blade of growth was crisp. To look across the shimmering landscape required a brimmed hat pulled down on the forehead and dark eyeglasses. Sandy soil made little spiral whirlwinds with any air movement—even footsteps. To the south, clouds appeared as dark disappearing shapes under a rising red sun clearing the sky into a crystal blue.
Sara and Gil Grissom held hands as they walked a well-marked trail wandering around rocks and a group of stringy trees that promised little shade. Sara looked up, into the trees, finding a few squawking birds watching their progress. Other than wind, they had heard no noise for most of their walk.
"How are you doing?" asked Grissom, slowing his walk to hand Sara a bottle of water.
She took a long swallow and recapped the bottle before saying, "I'm fine." She took his out-stretched hand and smiled. "I'm getting soft—I don't remember this uphill walk!"
"We are walking counterclockwise," Grissom said, "so we will head downhill on our return."
After parking Greg's car in the Kyle Canyon trail parking lot, they were headed to a mountain side meadow—one Grissom had visited for years. He had surprised Sara years ago by taking her to the place after a rain when wildflowers had carpeted the area for miles. Quickly, she'd figured out this was a special place to him, shared with no one else.
Today, they heard the bees before seeing the meadow and Sara watched as her husband's face brightened and their path took them around an outcropping of rock to reveal a meadow covered in flowers of every color—purple, orange, pink, red, white. Bees were everywhere along with butterflies and dragonflies lifting into the sky.
Both of them stopped; both breathing a quiet exclamation at the sight.
"You knew, didn't you?" Sara said.
Quietly, Grissom chuckled. "I hoped. Rain fell for two nights up here."
Sara stepped to his side, her arm circled his waist. "You brought me up here instead of firing me."
Another quiet chuckle as Grissom pressed his hand against her head and pulled her face to his. Kissing her cheek, he held her face against his. He said, "I didn't know what to do but I wasn't going to fire you—you were the best on our team, Sara."
"You had an odd way of telling me that, Dear."
"Well—I should have married you years ago—I had—I had…" he kissed her again. "It took a while."
Sara smiled, saying, "Let's look around—and I need to pee." She pointed to a large flat rock. "I think I've used that rock before for my personal business."
She wasn't going back to the time when neither one of them could figure out how to move forward.
For an hour, they walked through flowers, moving slowly as Grissom pointed to three different kinds of bees, a variety of butterflies, and dozens of slugs, centipedes, and spiders living in long dead trees strewn across the meadow.
As they started back to the car, Grissom stopped, looking back for a while before saying, "It will be awhile before we get back here."
Sara read his thoughts, all the times he had been at this place, their memories, not just of this meadow but of Vegas. She whispered, "We will get back—maybe not soon, but we'll return."
Silently, he nodded, put his arm around her, as they instinctively walked in an easy, smooth pace back to the car.
Early the next morning, against the backdrop of distant purple mountains sloping into the eastern suburbs of thousands of houses, Sara and Grissom stood self-consciously smiling as Greg took photos. First a group picture of all of them, then individually with Jim and Catherine, another group arranged in different order when Doc Robbins and his wife arrived.
They were standing in an executive hanger—a place for private planes—where Catherine had arranged for Sara and Grissom to return to Los Angeles in a casino-owned jet along with high rollers, whales, and cheetahs. The other passengers were dressed in designer clothing pretending they were not attracting attention in their flawlessly cut, flowing clothes and ropes of pearls and sparkling diamonds. None had friends gathered around for their leaving; a few showing surprise at the little cluster of people taking photos, hugging, laughing, making promises.
There was the noise and commotion that often goes with departures; the irrelevant chatter to avoid the actual separation with the reality of the need to board a plane and fly into a cloudless sky. There was talk of "next month" and requests for "updates" and yet, no one was actually moving to leave.
When one of the pilots appeared, acknowledging Catherine with a touch of his fingers to his forehead, the small gathering drew together in a sort of closed circle. Greg Sanders broke the ring as he reached to shake Grissom's hand and, unexpectedly, Grissom went to slap the younger man's shoulder. Both men embraced, quickly separated, and murmured a few words. A few minutes later, the group followed Sara and Grissom to the steps of the jet where the crew waited for the last passengers.
On the last day of May, almost four weeks early, Gil Grissom became a father to a daughter and a son, in that order. A scheduled delivery, his daughter arrived first, already called Elizabeth Ann, for her grandmother with the middle name from her mother and grandmother; she weighed five pounds, long and skinny, with a crown of curly dark hair, and a set of lungs that worked immediately.
Grissom held his breath as the baby was cleaned and wrapped and placed on her mother's chest. He whispered in Sara's ear, "She's beautiful." And he was certain the dark blue eyes blinking at him would soon turn the color of her mother's.
The parents barely had time to admire and adore the newborn daughter before their son arrived. Both babies were traverse; a C-section was the safest delivery which resulted in both babies arriving within minutes of each other in a planned, orderly procedure.
Sara's son was as beautiful as his sister; long and slender, a cap of curly golden hair on his perfect head. His eyes were vivid blue that would never change. In her eyes, he was the image of his father—eyes, nose, mouth, the gold-tipped lashes, even the hint of a chin cleft.
A voice asked if names had been chosen.
The new father, cradling his daughter, answered with "Elizabeth Ann."
The nurse was hovering over Sara, checking vitals, and asked, "And what about this little guy?"
Sara's pain was minimal; no labor pains with professionals working quickly to delivery healthy babies gave her a sense of joy that caused tears to flood from her eyes. She could barely speak as she inspected her son.
A nurse wiped Sara's face and took several photos of the new family. "Do you have family waiting? Can I send pictures?"
Grissom could not take his hands away from his daughter but managed to tell the nurse the names of three people who were in the waiting area. He turned to Sara, asking, "Have you decided on a name, dear?"
Smiling, she said, "He's a miniature of his dad—I should call him 'Junior'—look at his chin. His eyes, his mouth!" She giggled, "I know he will be a mini-Gilbert."
Grissom frowned. "Not Gilbert."
Sara pulled a wide-eyed face at him before saying, "Okay, not Gilbert, Junior. Anthony—after your dad—Anthony James." She smiled, her finger gently tracing the chin of her son. "I think Jim will like that."
All Gil Grissom could do was nod; he knew his wife had never been more beautiful.
A/N: Thank you for reading. Thank you for your comments and messages! Elizabeth and Anthony have arrived-so baby/kid fun begins!