A/N: Enjoy Heather's visit!

Out There Part Two

Chapter 6

When the dark blue Bentley stopped in the driveway, Jim Brass thought it had to belong to the realtor but when the door opened and Heather Kessler stepped out, he turned to Grissom, saying, "What's she doing here?"

The surprised look on Grissom's face could not be faked; the man had no idea why the woman was headed toward the front door. "I—I haven't talked to her in—in weeks," he mumbled. He was so dumbfounded he stood in place as Heather rang the doorbell; Jim walked to the door and opened it.

"Hello, Heather!" Jim stuck his hand out, saying "Jim Brass, not sure you remember me!"

"Of course, Captain Brass." She lightly took his hand, saying, "It's been some time but I remember you." Stepping into the entryway, she said, "I—I…" She held a large white bag in her hand and for a moment appeared to be confused by Brass opening the door for her.

Jim pointed to the living room where Grissom stood in a surprised and speechless daze. He said, "He's here. Sara's out back."

As Heather walked into the living room, Grissom managed to recover his surprise and say, "Come in, Heather. It's—it's good to see you."

Brass noticed Grissom made no move to make physical contact with Heather.

For a moment, the three stood in an awkward silence until Heather handed Grissom the white bag she carried. "I brought a—a gift—to—ah—congratulate you on your marriage."

Jim Brass could not keep quiet. He said, "I'm sure it's an exciting gift—lace or leather?" And he laughed as he attempted to peek into the bag.

"Thank you, Heather," said Grissom as he shot a tense glance to Jim before smiling at Heather.

What had the beginnings of a tense, uneasy exchange, changed with Heather's reaction of laughter with a quick touch to Jim's arm causing both men to laugh; she said, "Captain Brass, you will never change!" She made an exaggerated wink aimed at him.

They heard the back door close and all three looked in that direction as Sara and Greg entered the room.

…Greg Sanders had never been in the room with Heather Kessler. Of course, he knew her—everything about her from gossip and photographs and interviews over the years. He knew how she'd tied a man to a car and beat him with a whip—but that event had been made to disappear because Lady Heather had a list of clients as long as his arm that included attorneys, judges, and law enforcement. And he would give his right arm for a glimpse at that list. He knew Grissom had provided an alibi for her and knew how her daughter had died. After she became a therapist, her scandalous past had slipped under the rug of Las Vegas history until one of her patients had tried to blow up the city which had brought Gil Grissom back to the crime lab. There was so much he'd like to know about the woman standing in the living room.

He ambled into the room, hearing Sara welcome the visitor as she motioned to chairs. When Sara made a request, Greg dropped his head to hide his smile. Grissom had immediately gone to get another chair.

As Heather sat in one of the arm chairs, Jim took the chair next to her; Greg stepped over to the sofa as Grissom brought in another chair.

"Greg, help me get everyone a drink," said Sara. Looking at Heather, she asked, "Would you like tea?"

As much as he wanted to remain in the living room, he followed Sara to the kitchen. Amid the noise of running water and clatter of mugs and spoons removed from the dishwasher, he asked, "What's she doing here?"

Sara put two cups on a small tray, looked at Greg, and said, "I invited her—well—sort of." Leaning against the cabinet, she whispered, "She came up to me the other day at the grocer—very nice, asked about us—I knew she wanted to know about Gil—so I suggested she drop by." Quietly, she giggled. "So she came." She plopped tea bags into the two cups, giggled again, and said, "I didn't think she would!"

"Does she know?" Greg's eyes moved to Sara's abdomen.

Shaking her head, Sara said, "It was a three minute conversation—so no." She poured hot water into each cup. "Would you grab a couple of beers and the fake milk? She'll want cream but that's not what she gets!"

After he got three beers and the milk substitute out of the refrigerator, he bent to Sara's ear and said, "So Grissom didn't know—he looked pretty surprised!"

A smile twisted around Sara's mouth. "I did tell him I'd seen her but I really didn't think she'd 'drop by'—I am sure she has his phone number." She picked up the small tray. "Come on—we don't want to miss anything!"

Greg wanted to be able to watch Heather but Grissom was sitting on the sofa, leaving a chair next to Heather vacant. For a second, he thought about taking one side of the sofa but decided it would be weird. He gave Grissom a beer, one to Jim, and took the empty chair.

The seating had been a tight but relaxed circle when he, Jim, Grissom and Sara had been talking but now, the addition of one chair had changed that close and comfortable arrangement. He could see that Jim was relaxed with a smug smile on his face. Heather appeared nervous—or anxious; not what he would have expected. Grissom was—Greg took a swallow of his beer—he would not have believed it—Grissom was flustered as he watched Jim Brass and Heather Kessler banter and tease in a way that was companionable in an unexpected way.

Heather's attention focused on Sara and the mug of tea as Sara said, "We have rice milk—no cream, sorry."

"Thank you, that will be fine." Heather took the mug in both hands, bringing it to her lips where she gently blew across the top of the hot tea.

Greg could not have fabricated a scene or characters as unreal as the two women facing each other, both sipping tea while two men held bottles of beer.

Grissom broke the silence when he reached for the bag Heather had brought in. "Heather brought us a—a gift," said Grissom as he picked it up and placed it between he and Sara.

Placing her cup on the small side table, Sara removed tissue paper and pulled a cream colored blanket from the bag. She said, "Thank you, Heather! This is beautiful—and—is it cashmere?"

Greg knew the luxurious appearance of the fabric was cashmere or something very near—expensive, he thought.

Heather nodded, saying, "I love the feel on cool nights." Carefully, she placed her cup on a packing box next to her chair. "Tell me about your adventure—or research." She nodded toward Sara. "Sara told me you'd been in Hawaii."

…Heather Kessler knew where Sara lived; she'd known for years that Grissom and Sara had purchased a house before Grissom had decided to travel the world. After their divorce, on more than one occasion, she had driven by the house to see it was always well-kept, lawn tended, but never signs of life other than a car in the driveway.

Stopping on a whim was probably not a good idea, she thought; only one car in the driveway meant Sara and Grissom were home. And she'd be in and out in ten minutes. She had splurged on a gift, probably extravagant for their lifestyle, but simple and useful.

When Jim Brass opened the door, she was flummoxed by his appearance and then amused that she had made a sudden decision to stop and the old curmudgeon was at the door. Their amusement with each other went back years. She could tease him; he would joke and try to provoke her.

Another surprise was Grissom. The change had been dramatic; he was tan, slimmer, amazingly younger looking than he had been when he had returned to Vegas. Obviously, Hawaii had been good for him. Or Sara was making him happy.

When Sara entered the room, Heather had her answer. The woman was radiant, happy, with a sun-touched glow and Gil Grissom could not keep his eyes away from her. The immediate change she noticed was how the energy and dynamics changed when Sara entered the room—for all three men. She'd never thought of Sara as a dominating personality but today, it was obvious she was in control. For a moment, the realization caused her to rethink her opinion of this new-to-her behavior of Sara Sidle.

When Jim Brass made another joking comment, Heather turned her attention back to him, leaving Grissom to push aside a couple of boxes to make room for another chair.

Sara and Greg returned with two cups of tea and three bottles of beer; Heather made another observation. Greg—he was not known to her—was submissive to Sara. The thought cause her to smile as she took the mug from Sara. She was sure none of this group was in the lifestyle.

Tea in a mug was informal; nothing pretentious or pompous but an unassuming, comfortable and welcoming gesture. As she sipped the tea, Heather, not an emotional person, was touched by an unfamiliar poignant feeling as she watched the interactions among friends as they sat comfortably, content to be with each other. And with that thought, she asked about Hawaii.

Grissom talked about their experience, occasionally pausing to look at Sara, giving her time to add a comment. At some point, he stretched his arm across the back of the sofa so his hand touched Sara's back. A few seconds later, his fingers were caressing her neck.

Hours later, safe in her home, Heather Kessler reclined on her sofa, tucked her bare feet under a soft throw, and stared at the ceiling. She had sold the big house, leaving years of memories behind, and moved into a new place. It suited the changes in her life when she resumed her therapy work with couples. She thought she'd seen and heard everything until she started counseling; sighing, her thoughts returned to Sara and Gil Grissom.

In her mind, she could still see Gil Grissom's hand on his wife's neck yet, in her imagination, she had never fully understood the attraction between the two. But she had never observed them together and knew what she witnessed was commitment; the stuff of epic poems and romantic novels and a simmering passion.

Smiling, she closed her eyes—as she was leaving, Grissom had announced Sara's pregnancy with twins. Proudly, he beamed as Heather asked a few questions and Sara answered. They promised to keep in touch.

Picking up a glass of brandy in one hand and a popular book in the other, she studied the book's cover before opening it. Gil Grissom would always be one who 'got away'—the same with Jim Brass. So many others—judges, attorneys, law enforcement officers—had found their way to her private and very exclusive club. Not those two.

Grissom had been the most inquisitive person she'd ever met. Unlike some who asked about her clients or her finances, he had been curious, seriously inquiring about every aspect of her work—except for who came to her club and how much money she made. He had been polite, respectful—setting boundaries, except for once when he had touched her face. On that occasion, she thought he was interested in an experience but a second later, he'd backed away.

Sipping the brandy, she thought about Sara. Grissom had, in a moment of weakness, thanked her for pushing him into a love-relationship. Quietly, Heather laughed. If she'd never crossed Gil Grissom's path, she was certain Sara Sidle would have eventually opened the man's heart.

Flipping her book open to a marked page, she began to read the fictional story of a man's survival on Mars.

A/N: We do not like Heather-so we sort of 'wrote around' her! Hope it worked-let us know!