Prayers
Author: Summer Reign PM
Sara fights for what belongs to her.
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Title: Prayers
Author: Summer Reign
Rating: T
Pairing: G/S
Spoilers: Forget Me Not (Disclaimer: Nothing Good ever came from any show, ever, with this title)
Disclaimer: Sara and Grissom are owned and abused by CBS. Loved and cherished by their fans.
Summary: Sara fights for what is hers.
Warning: No fluff this time.
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Lago Rimachi, Peru
March, 2013
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Sara stopped for a moment to catch her breath and take one more look at the GPS on her phone. Soon. Very soon. Assuming, of course, they were right about where he was. And he didn't decide to go for lunch or a strange little walkabout no one could predict.
She slapped at whatever creature was biting the back of her neck. Probably better not to know. Remembering a moment, somewhat similar to this one, Sara smiled and gave her husband props for going through the sheer physical exertion required to navigate through Nature Gone Wild.
I'll walk on coals—to the end of the earth—to fix this.
Sara braced her legs as she made her way down a small, rocky hill. She turned left among the towering, massive trees that surrounded her until she finally saw water. Emerging from peaceful green, she found her world suddenly blue. But in a good way. Blue skies and beautiful crystalline water. Large boulders jutting out into the lake made this a perfect location for fishing. Which is what Gil was supposed to be doing right now.
She glanced down at the GPS again and then, stopped.
He was here. She was where she needed to be.
She looked at the boulders to the left of where she looked before and-there he was.
Her religious skepticism hadn't changed. Still, she muttered a "please," under her breath to…someone. Anyone.
Please…please, please, please…. Help me get my life back.
He was either asleep or hypnotized by the bobber on his fishing line, as it barely moved on the still water before him. She smiled. He was wearing a hat. Bigger than his usual selection, and deep red with cream colored alpacas making their way around the brim. Her stomach clenched just a little at the sight.
Sara stood behind Grissom now.
"Nice headgear," she said and saw his body give a slight start.
He turned and a smile automatically came to his lips.
"I left the old one at h…" His face fell just a bit. No one else would probably notice, but she did.
"Home?" She asked.
He shrugged.
"Actually, I know it's home. I kind of wanted to burn it."
He scowled and she laughed gently and sat down on the boulder closest to his.
"Don't worry," Sara said. "I didn't."
She gave him an unhurried, sidelong glance. He seemed thinner. Hair and beard were definitely longer and definitely whiter. Grissom always had a habit of being…ultra casual in a non-work environment. The wrinkled mess he was now clothed in demonstrated that preference to the extreme.
In spite of the clothing, he was uncomfortable. He hated being stared at.
Good.
"What are you doing here, Sara? I thought we discussed this."
"Did we? You talked. I was blindsided into silence. Doesn't sound like discourse to me."
"You could have called back."
"No. I actually want to fix things. Not keep them the way they are."
He looked at her with those blue eyes. Sad blue. So out of place in this world of sunshine and light.
Grissom took a breath and started speaking in his slow, measured tone. She both loved and hated that tone.
"What's to change? We had this conversation once before with reversed roles. You couldn't come back to Las Vegas and I couldn't leave. Now, I can't come back and you can't leave."
"Yes, I can. I just did."
"Well, you shouldn't. You are young. You are doing what you were born to do. What you've dedicated your life to. So did I. But, I gave everything I had to give. I'm done. I want a different life."
"Fishing," Sara said, nodding toward the calm lake.
He smirked. "Why not? I've earned it. But, there's our problem. While you go off saving lives, anything I would end up doing in Las Vegas would pale in comparison. You can shake your head but it's true. That's not the man you fell in love with."
"Don't make assumptions or decisions for me. I'm a grown woman. I can make my own. I didn't fall in love with you because of your job."
Please…please…please. Just fix this. Just fix this.
"I want you to be happy," he said, simply.
"But who are you to decide what makes me happy?"
"Your…" He just caught himself from using the h-word.
"Exactly," she said, not letting him off the hook.
She looked out at the lake. The sun was shining in the way she liked best….turning every motion of the water into thousands of sparkling diamonds.
"I kissed a man," she said quietly.
She looked at his face. She hadn't meant to stick him straight in the heart but the arrow hit him anyway.
He must have realized his mouth was partially open and closed it. Then swallowed—hard.
"And how did that work out for you?" he asked, glibly.
She wasn't fooled. "Before or after I was suspected of his murder?"
He just looked at her…believing and disbelieving at the same time. She didn't want to get into that now.
"I kissed him because I was drunk and lonely and wanted to feel something. I gave it the old college try but all I could feel was…this isn't the person I wanted to kiss. This isn't Gil."
"And that's as far as it went?" he asked.
"You set me free, remember? Not that I ever asked you to."
He sighed.
"Sara, if you want to continue this torture, go ahead. If you want to scream—do it. If you want to slap me—just do it. Just…I have no idea what you're really doing here."
"The kiss was just a kiss. Nothing more."
I even have documentation…
She took a breath herself. Enough bitterness. Enough pain. For both of them.
"I'm here to fix it. I will scream, cry, beg…whatever I need to do, but I'm not leaving without you."
There. Get a restraining order. Stand in line.
"You need to be a CSI, Sara."
"Why? Because you say so? You're the one who told me to go. 'You'll never feel comfortable again until you slay that demon.' Sound familiar?"
"You stayed."
"Because…I thought I was in your way. Because they were hiring you and you were enjoying what you were doing and I was either home, or just an unpaid assistant not really doing anything but blocking your light. I just thought…"
"No. Never. You were never in the way."
"So, I've lived through on and off hell, had someone stalk me, attempt to kill me and been on a diet of booze and pills for…a misunderstanding?"
"What?" He looked downright alarmed now.
"It's a long story. I'll tell you later. This is more important."
He pinched the bridge of his nose and then reclined against a larger rock behind him and closed his eyes for a moment. She spotted the wince.
"Do you have pain?" she asked.
"You have no idea what it's like to be in your mid-50s," he said, with a grim smile.
"I guess I'll find out soon enough."
"I'll l be in my early 70s then. Even worse."
"I don't know about that. I bet you'll be the same brilliant curmudgeon you've always been."
Smile. Please smile. Just once.
He sighed. They listened to the sounds of the water for a while. The sun was warm, but comfortable.
"I had my left kneecap replaced in December," he said.
She looked at him again. "Why didn't you tell me? I would have come right over."
"In the question lies the answer… and do what? Take care of me as I go through one of the rites of old age. The first of many, I'm sure. I'm not pleasant to be around when I'm in pain."
You're not a piece of cake when you're healthy either but that's never stopped me.
"In sickness and in health, Gil. I meant it."
Almost as a reflex, he looked at her left hand. At the same time, she looked at his. Both bands were in place on the fingers of their rightful owners.
Bring it home, girl. You can do this.
Please, please, please.
"I love you. I don't want to be apart. I don't care if we go back home or stay here or anywhere else. No more time apart. I just…I can't live in darkness anymore. I don't know what to do." Her voice cracked and she swallowed back … a cry? A scream?
He smiled gently. "I do."
"I thought you forgot those words."
"Never."
He pulled off his hat, ruffled his sweaty hair a bit and slid over to join her on her rock. He put his arm around her and she clasped his hand with hers. She looked at their golden rings, shining in the sun.
She wanted to cry. Not gentle tears but the huge, gut-wrenching sobs she had (mostly) held within for weeks now.
She wasn't a pretty crier. She couldn't cry now. It wasn't the time.
Please. Please. Please.
"Don't cry, Sara. We'll work on the details later. We'll do this. I'm sorry. For everything. I just … distance just sucks sometimes."
Ever the poet, my husband.
My husband.
Still.
Always.
She turned in his arms and cried big, wet tears.
She sobbed out her pain.
And embraced her joy.
The End
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Author's note: Oh, Lord have Mercy! I hate angst. Hate it with a passion. This is probably the angstiest thing I've ever written but I needed to do it. I needed it for my own sanity. And I hope it helps with yours. We've been though a lot together, my friends. And, for some unknown reason, this curmudgeon still believes in possibilities. On the blank page, in life and in love.
Please, please, please.
Thank you for reading. I truly appreciate you more than I can say and, should this be the end of the road for the fandom as we know it, I was blessed to have had you come across my work.
But, don't count us out yet.