The Retreat

Hahahaha. Starbucks. Greg and I think alike. I would drfinitely adopt a cat one day and name it Starbucks.
In other news... HE'S GONNA PROPOSE!!! Go get 'em Grissom!
*runs around doing the happy dance*

Like always Zan, awesome chapter. I'm dying for the next retreat...!
 
Aww, I'm so glad you all liked this! Thank you so much for leaving me a comment :). You have no idea how much I appreciate it!
 
A/N: Thanks again to everyone who is sticking by me through this fic! This is a long chapter, but it kind of made me go ‘aww…’

The dolphin facts came from the Dolphin Institute .org!

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Disclaimer: I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS.

Title: A Night of Firsts

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The drive home

“What’s that noise?” Nick asked from the back of the van, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“I’ll give you one guess, man,” Warrick replied from the driver’s seat, staring at Nick through the rearview mirror.

“No, that’s impossible,” Nick mumbled, yawning.

“Nope, nope it isn’t! elcome to my world!” Greg chuckled, sitting forward in his seat.

“Are you serious?” Catherine asked, glancing up at Grissom. “Does he really snore that loudly?”

“Uh-huh!” Greg confirmed. “Uh-huh, he does. Doesn’t it sound like a bear, trying to move a large boulder or something?”

Sara raised an eyebrow, trying not to laugh. This is nothing, really; I’ve heard worse. “It’s more like a bear with a severe head cold,” she spoke up.

“Well, make him stop, man,” Nick grumbled. “I’m really tired.”

“And again, welcome to my world,” Greg laughed. “And for the record? I call dibs on a new tent mate next year.”

“I’m not sleeping with him,” Warrick immediately shook his head no.

“Neither am I,” Nick added.

“Well, I’m sure as hell not staying with him,” Catherine announced.

“Sara? I’ll arm-wrestle you for the joy of sharing a tent with Grissom.”

“Nah, I think I’m good, thanks, though, Greg!” she grinned at him, glancing over at Catherine. “Tent mate?”

“Tent mate,” Catherine agreed.

“Hey, Nick?” Warrick called out.

“Yeah, man?”

“Tent mate?”

“You betcha,” Nick chuckled.

“That’s not fair,” Greg grumbled, frowning, as Grissom’s snores seemed intensify in sound.

“But it sure is funny,” Nick laughed.

“Uh-huh,” Greg sighed. “Right.”

Thirty minutes later, Warrick pulled up in front of Greg’s apartment, putting the car in park. “Good luck with the cat shopping tomorrow, man,” he nodded at him, as his colleague dragged his suitcase out of the trunk of the van. “Are you really going to do it?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Greg replied. “And actually, I was wondering if anyone wanted to come along with me?”

“I would,” Warrick apologized. “But I have some work to do.”

“And so do I,” Catherine added, glancing up at Warrick for the briefest of moments. “But I would definitely like to see your cat, once you get her.”

Greg nodded, looking over at Nick. “What do you say?” he asked his friend. “Lunch, and then the pet store?”

Nick pursed his lips together for a moment, thinking about Greg’s suggestion. “Sure, might be kind of fun,” he finally admitted with a smile. “But I’m not carrying all of the heavy stuff, understood, man?” he added.

Greg just rolled his eyes, as he closed his door, and poked his head back through the open window. “I’ll see you tomorrow at eleven in the morning, then. I’ll pick you up?”

“Sounds like a plan, Greggo; sounds like a plan.”

“Goodnight, Greg,” everyone except for Grissom chorused. Grissom simply continued to snore.

Ten minutes later, Warrick glanced at Catherine through the rearview mirror. “You’re up,” he smiled at her, pulling up to her house. And then after catching her expression, he raised an eyebrow. “It’ll be fine; we promise you.”

“I know,” Catherine sighed. “I’m just uneasy about this whole situation. But you’re right; everything will be okay,” she tried to smile at Nick, Sara, and Warrick.

“Just get some rest, Cath,” Nick advised her. “And then Grissom will give Lindsey a call tomorrow evening, after she gets home from school.”

“Right,” Catherine simply nodded, climbing out of the van. “Goodnight, everyone!”

“Night,” they replied, before Warrick headed off toward Nick’s place.

After arriving at his place ten minutes later, Nick cleared his throat. “So, uh, I guess I’ll talk to you both tomorrow?” he asked, trying not to stare at Sara as he got out of the van. This still stinks, he bitterly thought to himself, grabbing his gear. Time, just give me some time.

“Yup, and have a nice night,” Sara smiled at him, missing the semi-hurt expression on his face.

“Yeah, you, too. And bye, Rick,” he mumbled.

“Night, Nicky…” Warrick trailed off, before pulling out of his apartment complex. You’ve got to get over her, man. Seriously. Who can I set you up with? Shaking his head for a moment, Warrick then glanced over his shoulder at Grissom. “So, should we wake him up?”

“Nah,” Sara chuckled. “Just let him sleep. We can drop you off next, and then I’ll take care of it from there,” she shrugged.

“You sure, girl?” Warrick raised an amused eyebrow.

“I’m sure, Warrick,” Sara grinned, holding back another soft chuckle. “Just go… I’m getting tired!

Warrick nodded, as he sped off toward his own place, arriving in his driveway ten minutes later. “If you’re sure—” he repeated, frowning at Sara.

“I’m not only sure,” Sara told him. “But I’m positive, too,” she added, scooting up to the driver’s seat. “Talk to you later,” told him.

“Yeah, later, girl,” Warrick grinned, before taking off toward his front door.

Fifteen minutes later, Sara pulled into her own parking lot, lightly shaking Grissom. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” she teased him. “Wake up.”

“What?” Grissom snorted, snapping to attention.

“We’re at my place. Hop out, and come have a cup of coffee with me,” she suggested, already getting out of the van.

Grissom yawned, before unbuckling himself, and getting out. “Have I been sleeping for long?” he asked, stretching.

“A couple of hours,” Sara shrugged, locking the van’s doors, and grabbing her luggage out of the trunk. Walking to the front door of her apartment, she chuckled, as she walked right in, Grissom on her heels.

“What’s so funny?” he suspiciously asked her.

“Nothing,” she smiled, depositing her keys by the front door. “But the entire team now knows how lovely your snoring sounds.”

“Oh,” Grissom sheepishly replied. “I see,” he added, as he passed Sara, moving into her living room. Sitting down on one of her couches, he waited for her to join him.

“Does you sitting there remind you of anything?” she softly asked, immediately sitting down beside him, and lightly kissing his cheek.

“Ecklie,” he simply replied, as he wrapped his arms tightly around Sara. “Oh, and of you, of course,” he amended his answer.

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The fourth date, ten months prior

“Are you sure that you want to do this?” Grissom cautiously asked Sara, as they stood on top of the Stratosphere, waiting for their turn to ride the famous rollercoaster. “We don’t have to, really,” he added, glancing over at her with something akin to concern etched onto his face.

“No, it’s okay,” Sara absentmindedly replied, as she watched a group of people slide into the coaster. Thanks to work and other outside commitments between the two, it had been almost a month since their last date, and she was not about to ruin it for anything. “This thing is safe though, right?” she couldn’t help but ask.

“Of course it is,” Grissom replied, as he stood just beside her. “The mechanics check it out every day, and it is one of the safest coasters in the country.”

“They can’t possibly know that for sure,” Sara nervously smiled, turning to look up at him for a moment.

“Would I lie?” Grissom asked, raising an eyebrow, as they moved forward in line. “But I have to admit it, Sara, you do look extremely uneasy.”

“I’m fine; this is just my first time riding this thing,” she reminded him. “And besides, a deal is a deal, right?” she asked, as another group of people climbed into the coaster. “After this, we’re off to the Secret Garden and Dolphin Habitat.”

“I suppose so,” Grissom mused. “Although I don’t understand the reference to the ‘secret garden.’ Can it really be considered a secret, if the entire city knows about this place?”

Sara rolled her eyes at him, as the occupants of the previous trip exited their seats, leaving room for her and Grissom to sit down. “I guess this is it,” she commented, as she hesitantly sat down on her seat.

“You’ll be fine,” Grissom assured her, securing the restraints around himself.

“Yeah, for your sake, I hope so,” Sara mumbled, as she locked herself into place, and the attendant hit the switch, starting the ride.

Grissom tried not to chuckle at her obvious discomfort, as he glanced over the side of the rollercoaster. “We’re pretty high up here,” he commented, as their car crawled up an especially high hill.

“Shut up,” Sara told him, as she screwed her eyes tightly shut. “I didn’t think that I had a fear of heights, but, uh,” she cleared her throat, only opening her eyes when she felt Grissom’s hand covering her own.

“Just try to relax, and enjoy the view, Sara,” he calmly told her, before gazing back down at the city lights.

Right, easy for you to say, she thought to herself, as she glanced over the side of the rollercoaster. Shit! What would possess someone to build a fast-moving object all the way up here? And what if it falls? She continued. We’re so high up here, that we wouldn’t survive the impact!

Grissom turned to look at Sara, trying to hide his amusement. I can’t believe that you’re this scared of a rollercoaster. Then again, I can’t believe that I’m finding this funny; I’m just used to you being so strong with everything. What I wouldn’t give to— his mind trailed off, causing a slight blush to permeate his otherwise stoic expression.

Minutes later, when the rollercoaster rolled to a stop back at the gate, Sara let out an extremely relieved sigh. “Well that was, uh, fascinating,” she commented, climbing out of the car on slightly shaky legs.

“Yes, it was,” Grissom replied, still somewhat distracted.

“Grissom? Are you okay?” she asked, a little bit concerned.

“I’m fine,” Grissom assured her, as he pointed toward the elevator to get back down to the ground. “Are you ready for the dolphin habitat?”

“Yeah, I am,” Sara smiled at him. Where did your mind go all of a sudden? Did something just happen that I don’t know about? “I think you’ll like the dolphin show,” she added, as they entered the elevator. Quietly sliding one of her hands into his, she frowned, when she noticed him studying their hands as if something was wrong with them. “Grissom? What’s going on?”

“What? Nothing,” Grissom shook his head.

“Do you, uh, not want to hold my hand for some reason?” she asked in confusion. This isn’t anything new to us, so what’s the problem?

“It isn’t that,” Grissom hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck in nervousness with his free hand.

“Then what is it?” Sara tried to press him.

“Nothing,” he quietly replied, as he walked her out of the elevator, and toward his car. “Nothing at all,” he repeated, opening the passenger-side door for her, and waiting for her to get situated.

If nothing’s wrong, then why do you suddenly look so unsure of yourself? Why are you being so quiet, and why can’t you just talk to me? Sara wanted to ask him. But she knew that Grissom did not have the ability to come right out and say whatever it was that was on his mind; he needed to process his own thoughts, before he could share them with her. Maybe someday, she wistfully thought to herself. Maybe someday, you’ll be able to confide in me almost immediately. “Okay,” Sara simply said, staring out of the window, as they drove to the Mirage.

Pulling into the parking lot, Grissom again anxiously rubbed the back of his neck, before hopping out. I really just want to, uh— he tried to tell himself. Can I just, you know? “Ready?” he swallowed, as he took a couple of steps toward the hotel, and waited for Sara to catch up to him. Not bothering to hold out his hand for her, he started to walk toward the habitat, a slight frown on his face.

What the hell is wrong with you? Sara wanted to ask, glancing over at him in confusion. You went from slightly flirting with me, to comforting me, to completely isolating yourself from me. What happened while we were on that rollercoaster? Sara followed Grissom in silence, waiting for him as he paid their admittance fees. “So, uh, where would you like to sit?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“In the back?” Grissom suggested. “It’s more… private up there,” he hesitantly explained.

Sara slowly nodded her agreement, before flashing him a small smile. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she tried to prompt him again.

“I’m fine,” he gruffly replied, before shyly grabbing her hand.

Then why are your hands so sweaty? Sara asked herself, raising an eyebrow in surprise. No, something is definitely up with you. “Okay,” she shrugged as they walked down the path toward the dolphin exhibit. “Then the back it is,” she added, as they climbed the bleachers to take a seat.

“Did you know that bottlenose dolphins have between 88 and 100 cone-shaped teeth?” Grissom asked, sitting down beside Sara.

“No, can’t say that I knew that,” Sara smiled, gently squeezing his hand, as she rested their hands on his knee. “But did you know that adult bottlenose dolphins are anywhere from eight to twelve feet long?”

Grissom chuckled, glancing down at their joined hands. “No, I didn’t know that,” he replied, trying to hide his growing discomfort. “But they are very fascinating creatures; very humanistic in nature.”

“True,” Sara agreed, studying his face for a moment, before looking down at the currently empty dolphin habitat. I wish that you’d just tell me what was going on in your mind, she sighed to herself.

“Can I kiss you?” Grissom suddenly blurted out, immediately turning a deep shade of red as he attempted to avoid Sara’s gaze.

“Wh-what?” Sara whispered in surprise, turning to look at him.

Grissom cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Can I kiss you?” he repeated his question, staring down at the ground in embarrassment.

“Is that what’s been bothering you for the last hour?” Sara hesitantly questioned him, holding back a chuckle of relief. “I could tell that something was wrong, but I had no idea—” she trailed off.

“It’s okay, I understand,” Grissom sighed, slowly releasing Sara’s hand from his own.

“What are you doing?” she asked, looking at him in confusion.

“You don’t want me to; I understand,” he told her.

“Grissom, I never said that,” Sara pointed out.

“But you said—”

“That I knew something was up with you, but that I didn’t know what it was. Grissom,” Sara cleared her throat. “You don’t have to ask me to do things like this. Hell, we’ve been dating for two months now, and the most that we’ve ever done together is to hold hands, with the occasional awkward hug. You don’t have to ask to kiss me; that’s a part of being in a relationship,” she encouragingly smiled at him. Besides, I’ve wanted you to kiss me for over ten years now… ever since you gave that lecture at Harvard.

“But do you want me to?” Grissom persisted, his face flushed with his social unease, as he continued to stare down at the ground.

Sara slowly nodded, hesitantly lifting his chin up so that he would be forced to look at her. “Why are you so nervous?” she quietly questioned him, blinking. “It’s just you and me sitting here,” she told them, tuning out the other people who were starting to join them for the upcoming dolphin show.

“This is a little out of my comfort zone,” Grissom admitted. “Not the act of kissing itself, but the act of kissing you—in public.”

“You don’t have to kiss me, then,” Sara whispered.

“I know, but—” Grissom licked his lips, leaning toward Sara. “But I want to—if you want me to, that is.”

Sara again nodded, a small smile gracing her lips. “Then go ahead.”

Grissom very carefully leaned even closer to Sara, his lips barely grazing hers.

“It’s okay,” Sara repeated, as she moved a fraction of an inch closer to Grissom.

Before he actually had the opportunity to fully press his lips to hers, he heard someone coughing from a couple of rows below them. “Gil? Ms. Sidle?” came Ecklie’s un-amused voice.

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The present

“I couldn’t believe his expression,” Sara grinned, resting her head against Grissom’s chest. “I thought that he was going to drop-dead with a heart attack right there on the spot.” And actually, how’d you get him to let us continue dating, anyhow? I’ll have to ask you about that later on. I just don’t want to ruin the mood that we have going on, because I’m sure you had to go through a lot to smooth things over with him.

“I know,” Grissom nodded, as he very gently rubbed Sara’s back. “And I was furious with him for ruining the moment.”

“That’s okay,” Sara shrugged, turning her face to look up at him for a moment. “You made up for it later on, if I do recall.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Grissom chuckled, remembering what happened next.

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The fourth date, later that night

“That wasn’t good, Sara,” Grissom anxiously told her, as they walked back to his car after the dolphin show. “I’m your boss, and he’s my boss.”

Sara raised an eyebrow, climbing into the car. “We weren’t doing anything wrong, Grissom. It’s not like we were going to do anything illegal; you were just going to kiss me,” she pointed out. A kiss which Ecklie so very nicely ruined.

“I know, but—” Grissom sighed, sliding into the driver’s seat, and putting the key in the ignition. “But now he has something else to document against the two of us: Fraternization between superior and subordinate.”

Sara stared out the window for a moment, waiting for Grissom to start driving. “So what if he knows?” she suddenly asked. “He’s an ass, and this is none of his business!”

“But he’s still in charge of the lab,” Grissom reminded her. “We need to be more careful.”

“No,” Sara shook her head. “I refuse to live my life in hiding.”

Grissom furrowed an eyebrow, clearing his throat. “So what do you propose that we do?” he softly asked her.

“I propose that you kiss me,” Sara instantly replied. “Right here, right now.”

“What…?” Grissom asked, staring straight ahead. “But we’re in a car right now.”

“People do kiss in cars, Grissom,” Sara gave him a wry grin.

“I know, but—” he swallowed in unease.

Sara bit her lip, staring down at her hands. “You wanted to kiss me out by the dolphins, right?” she quietly asked him.

“Yes,” Grissom replied without hesitation.

“And now we’re in the isolation of your own personal car. Why don’t you want to kiss me anymore?”

“I do, but—” he tried again. “There’s nothing special about kissing in a car! We’re not teenagers anymore,” he told her. “You’ve waited for me to do this for quite some time now, right?”

“Yeah?” Sara replied, almost as if asking a question of her own, rather than answering his.

“Then wait ten more minutes, until we’re back at your place,” Grissom frowned, putting the car into gear, and pulling out of the parking lot.

Sara raised her eyebrow in surprise, a smile once again gracing her lips. “Okay,” she agreed.

Twenty minutes later, Grissom and Sara were both sitting on her couch, with Grissom staring at her in slight discomfort. “This would have been so much easier to do at the dolphin show,” he mused.

“Why?” Sara asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Because then it would have been a surprise,” he sighed. “Now, I’m thinking about it too much.”

“Yeah, don’t think about it,” Sara smiled at him. “Just do it.”

Grissom nodded, as he leaned in toward Sara. “But this is so difficult,” he muttered under his breath.

“No more difficult than any other woman you’ve ever kissed,” Sara whispered to him, as his lips just barely touched hers.

“Yes, it is,” Grissom quietly replied. “This time it actually means something,” he swallowed, before pressing his lips to hers for the first time.

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The Present

“I was definitely surprised, you know?” Sara smiled up at him.

“So was I,” Grissom admitted. “I’m not usually that… bold about things.”

“Could have fooled me,” Sara chuckled, pulling away from him for a moment. “So I guess you need to be leaving now…?” she sighed, glancing at the clock. Grissom usually hated to stay after midnight, on non-work nights.

“Yes,” he confirmed, pulling Sara back to himself for a moment, and not bothering to get up from the couch. “But have a good night,” he told her, as he once again lightly pressed his lips to hers.

“I will,” Sara smiled, pulling away from Grissom. “And you, too.” Standing up, and walking him to her apartment door, she looked up at him. “You can stay, you know…” she whispered. “You don’t always have to leave.”

“I know,” Grissom nodded, gently brushing his hand against her face. “And I appreciate that fact; but I have a lot of work to do tonight, and I wouldn’t want to bore you with all of the details.” And staying with you always proves difficult for me, because then I feel, uh, he tried not to blush. Let’s just say that I have a difficult time controlling myself around you, and I’m afraid to actually have sex with you. And as much as I’m sure that you would understand my rationale once you find out what it is, I need to build up enough courage to mention it—which won’t be tonight.

Sara frowned, opening the door for him. “Another time, maybe?” she softly asked. Even though they had been dating for over a year now, Grissom had only spent a handful of non-sexual nights with her, coming up with excuse after excuse as to why he couldn’t stay more often. If I didn’t know you any better, she thought to herself, I’d think that you were trying to avoid me. But you’re not, right? I know that you like to move slowly, I mean, hell, it took us two dates just to hold hands, three dates just to hug, and two months just to start kissing, but… how slowly do you feel like moving? Is there something wrong with me? You even told me that you loved me; you do love me, right? Because, I love you, and I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone other than you.

“Another time, definitely,” Grissom assured her with a slight smile. “And before I forget,” he continued, suddenly stopping in his tracks. “I was wondering if you’d like to go back to the butterfly observatory with me in the next couple of months? I have some, uh, research that I would like to conduct, and I could really use your help.”

“Sure,” Sara agreed with a smile, kissing him once more. “I’d love to.”

“Good,” his eyes twinkled. “And goodnight, Sara, I love you,” he nodded, kissing her once more.

“Goodnight, love you, too,” Sara sighed in confusion, closing the door behind him.

As he was walking down the hallway, Grissom started to panic. That will be one hell of a date when it happens, that’s for sure. Although… he frowned. What if she says no, because we’ve never crossed that intimacy boundary before? What if she doesn’t think that I’m seriously in love with her? I only told her that I loved her for the first time this weekend! Maybe I shouldn’t propose to her. I need to think about this, and possibly talk to someone. Swallowing heavily, Grissom left Sara’s apartment building, glancing at her door in axiety once more before getting into the van, and leaving.

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TO BE CONTINUED
 
Whoa! I didn't see any of these! Thanks, Shipwrecked! Hopefully Gris can do it :). Just as soon as the Butterflies come, he'll have courage :).

And thanks, CSI Trainee and LtKitty! I appreciate your continued support :).
 
Hehe, thanks! sorry.. I was going to write one yesterday, but I got distracted. I'm working on it, though! Promise!
 
A/N: This would have been up much earlier, but my best friend and I are writing a story just for fun, and I got that plot line stuck in my head! Also, this is another unusual chapter for me. I really feel like I’ve gotten away from my original intent for the Retreat (that of having the team members talk, and get to know one another), but who’s to say that people never deviate from their plans? Regardless, the events in this chapter take place before whatever is going to happen in tonight’s season seven opener. And if what I think is going to happen actually happens, I’ll incorporate that later on! Thanks goes to everyone who is continuing to read this story!

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Disclaimer: I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS.

Title: The Reason

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Present time, 7:30 am

“I don’t want to talk to him,” fourteen year old Lindsey mumbled under her breath, as she brushed her teeth early the next morning. “In fact,” she continued, making sure to speak loudly enough so that her very tired mother could hear her. “I don’t want to speak to any of them, and no one can make me!” Staring at her reflection in the mirror, Lindsey pouted. Life’s not fair. Why bother even trying to change what’s what? She asked herself, angrily setting her toothbrush down, and picking up her hair brush. Everyone that I love eventually dies anyhow, so I’m just going to continue living my life the way that I want to live it.

“Why don’t you want to speak with him?” Catherine softly interrupted her daughter’s thoughts, poking her head into the bathroom. “Or to any of them, for that matter?”

Lindsey scowled, not bothering to look up at her mother. “I just don’t want to, okay? What’s the big deal?”

“What’s the big deal?” Catherine tiredly asked, raising a confused eyebrow. “You’re my daughter, that’s the big deal. I love you, Lindsey, and I want you to have everything that you want or need in life.”

“Well I don’t need Un— Gil calling me, that’s for sure,” she muttered, throwing her hair brush back into the cabinet, and storming past her mother, who was still standing in the doorway with a dazed expression on her face. And why the hell did I almost call him ‘Uncle Gil?’ It’s not like he even cares about me anymore, either. He wouldn’t even be calling me in the first place, if it weren’t for my mother.

“Lindsey,” Catherine sighed, following her daughter down the hallway and into the kitchen. “So then tell what it is that you need?” Walking over to the refrigerator, she pulled out a couple of raw eggs, setting them on the counter, while reaching for the frying pan in the uppermost corner cabinet. Glancing over her shoulder at Lindsey for the briefest of moments, Catherine thought that she saw a flicker of hurt on her daughter’s face, before her eyes almost instantly hardened against her mother’s concerned gaze.

“I need you to back off and leave me alone, that’s what I need,” the fourteen year old bitterly replied, before walking out of the kitchen, and toward the front of the house. Moments later, she flung the door open, slamming it shut behind her.

Catherine stared at Lindsey’s retreating form, waiting for her to walk out of the house. Eventually, when she knew that her daughter was long gone, she picked up the eggs, and angrily threw them into the sink. “Damn it!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “Damn it,” she whispered again.

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[/b]Present time, 4:00 pm[/b]

“I don’t think that now is the best time to talk to her anymore, Gil,” Catherine hesitantly told him, rubbing the back of her neck in frustration.

“Why not?” Grissom asked with a frown, holding his office phone to his ear. “Didn’t we agree that I would speak to Lindsey today? Is she home from school yet?”

“Yeah, she’s home, but she’s—” locked herself in her room. “She didn’t have a very good day.”

“Did something happen to her?” Grissom cautiously asked.

Catherine sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. “She blew up at me this morning,” she finally admitted to her friend and colleague, sitting down at the couch. “And then when she came home from school, she handed me a note from her teacher. She blew up at several of her classmates, Gil—” Catherine trailed off. “She almost started a fight, right then and there. The teacher cut her some slack, given everything that has happened to her in the past couple of years, but she made it clear that this would be Lindsey’s last chance. What am I going to do with her?”

Grissom cleared his throat, closing the file that had been open in front of him. “You’re going to let me talk to her, that’s what you’re going to do,” he told her. “Can you put her on the line, please?”

“No,” Catherine hesitantly replied. “I mean, I can try, but I can’t guarantee that she’ll pick up,” she added, getting to her feet, and trudging down the hallway to Lindsey’s room. Softly knocking on the door, she glanced at the ceiling for a moment to collect her thoughts. “Lindsey?” she called out, cradling the phone against her chest. “Gil is on the phone for you, honey.”

“I don’t want to talk to him!” Lindsey shouted back, burying her head underneath her pillow.

“But he wants to talk to you, honey,” Catherine tried again, almost pleading with her daughter to pick up the phone. “Just talk to him for a couple of minutes.”

“No, and you can’t make me!” the teenager instantly shot back.

“Did you catch all of that, Gil?” Catherine quietly asked him, trying to mask her own frustration.

“Yes, I did,” Grissom replied, biting his lip in thought. “Do me a favor, though. I want you to tell her something for me, okay?”

“Sure, whatever,” Catherine shrugged. But apparently, it won’t matter. She’s still just going to do whatever she wants to do.

“Tell her that I said ‘the sun will come out.’”

“…What?” Catherine asked him in confusion, trying to figure out what those words, aside from the obvious, could possibly mean.

Grissom tried not to chuckle. “Just tell her that the ‘sun will come out,’ Cath, just like that.”

Knocking on Lindsey’s door again, Catherine cleared her throat, raising an eyebrow. “Honey, Gil told me to tell you that ‘the sun will come out.’ What, uh, what does that mean?”

Lindsey blinked. “What did he say?” she asked her mother, her query coming out in muffled tones.

Catherine furrowed her eyebrows in puzzlement, leaning closer to her daughter’s locked door. “He said that ‘the sun will come out.’”

Hell, no, Lindsey thought to herself, throwing her pillow down on the floor, and walking over to her bedroom door. Flinging it wide open, she immediately grabbed the phone from her mother, holding it against her ear.

Back in his office, Grissom listened to Catherine’s side of the conversation, frowning, when he thought that he heard rustling against the phone. “Catherine? What’s going on?” he asked. But he got no response. “… Lindsey?” he tried again. “Is that you? Are you there?”

“Do you honestly believe that you can get me to do whatever you want, Uncle Gil, just by reciting that one stupid line?” she muttered under her breath, refusing to make eye contact with her mother.

Catherine just stood in the middle of the hallway, watching her daughter with a dumbfounded expression on her face. Stupid line? What does that ‘one stupid line’ refer to? And ‘Uncle Gil?’ Thank God for small miracles, she thought to herself, taking a step away from her daughter, but staying in the vicinity.

The fact that Lindsey had referred to him as ‘Uncle Gil’ was not lost on Grissom, either, and the realization that a part of her still trusted him helped him feel a little bit more at ease with what he was trying to do. “Whoever said anything about getting you to do something against your will?” he calmly asked her.

“I’m not a little girl anymore, Uncle Gil, and that crap won’t work on me like it used to!” Lindsey continued to shout at him through the phone.

“Lindsey, I know that you’re not a little girl anymore, and I’m not trying to get you to do anything in particular. And for the record, Annie is one of the best musicals ever made.”

“…What?” Lindsey asked, her face contorting into a look of pure confusion as she tried to figure out what Grissom was doing.

Whatever you’re doing, Gil, keep it up, Catherine thought to herself, trying not to eavesdrop on her daughter’s side of the conversation, but unintentionally doing so, none-the-less. Convinced that Lindsey was no longer going to throw the phone through the window, she retreated to the relative safety and comfort of her own bedroom, leaving the door open… just in case.

“Annie,” Grissom repeated his statement. “Is one of the best musicals ever made.”

Lindsey wrinkled an eyebrow, biting her lip. “You’re still just trying to get me to talk, Uncle Gil, and I don’t want to.”

“… Oh?” Grissom questioned her, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “What makes you think that I’m trying to get you to talk?”

“I’m also not stupid, and you know that,” she mumbled into the receiver, walking back into her bedroom, and throwing herself down on her bed. “You know damned well that you used to sing that song to me whenever you babysat for Mom.”

“Is that a fact?” Grissom asked, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Uh-huh! Don’t you remember?” Lindsey incredulously asked him. “‘The sun will come out, tomorrow. Bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow—’” she trailed off, her voice hesitating for a moment. Rapidly blinking to stop the tears from forming, she swallowed, biting her lip.

“‘There’ll be sun,’” Grissom finished her sentence for her. “What’s wrong, Lindsey?” he prompted her, when he thought that he heard heavy breathing coming from her end of the line.

“It’s just not true,” she whispered, her anger suddenly gone, replaced with grief. “It’s just not true. There won’t be sun tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the day after that. There will never be sun again!”

“Oh, pumpkin,” Grissom finally sighed, dusting the cobwebs off of the nickname that he use to use for Lindsey. “Oh, pumpkin,” he repeated. “There’s always the possibility of sunshine for tomorrow.”

“No, there isn’t,” Lindsey insisted, angrily brushing away her tears. “It’s going to be rainy every single day, for the rest of my life.”

Grissom rubbed his chin, lost in thought for a moment. “Lindsey,” he hesitated. “Sara was going to come by and pick you up a little bit later, and we were all going to take you out for dinner. What would you say if I just stopped by right now, and just the two of us went out?”

“I don’t want to go out with any of you!” Lindsey sobbed, feeling embarrassed for losing her composure. “I just want you all to leave me alone!”

“We can’t do that, pumpkin,” Grissom softly told her, already standing up from his desk, and moving to the door of his office. “I’d like to talk with you,” he continued.

“But I don’t want to talk to you!” she replied, burying her head against her pillow, but not hanging up the phone just yet.

Grissom bit his lip, closing his eyes for a moment. “Well, will you at least come with me, and listen to me talk? I can’t find anyone who will listen to me talk for as long as I want to anymore,” he informed her.

Lindsey took a deep breath, trying to let the air out slowly. “Fine,” she finally mumbled. “But I want ice cream.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” Grissom replied, hanging up the phone. On his way out of the lab, he dialed Sara’s cell phone number. When she picked up, he cleared his throat. “Sara, I just spoke with Lindsey, and I’m going to take her out by myself. Would you please let everyone else know?” he asked her.

Sara raised an eyebrow, thinking about that for a second. “Are you sure that you’ll be okay with her, Grissom?” she finally asked.

“We’ll be fine,” he assured her. “And I’ll fill you in later.”

“Later tonight?” Sara hesitantly asked him, swallowing.

“Yes, if that’s okay?” he inquired. “And maybe we could… spend some time together?”

“I’ll see you later on tonight, then,” Sara replied with a smile, before hanging up.

“Right. Later tonight,” he sighed.

---------------

Present time, 5:00 pm

“Are you sure about this, Gil?” Catherine awkwardly asked him. “She hasn’t left her room since she hung up with you. I’m not sure what’s going on with her, but I’m not sure that it’s good.”

“I think she’s feeling ready to talk,” Grissom informed her. “And as much as I don’t feel comfortable being the recipient of her talking, perhaps I can help steer her in the right direction.”

“If you’re sure?” Catherine again asked, raising an eyebrow.

“We’ll be fine,” Grissom assured her, hiding his surprise when Lindsey came barreling down the hallway, and immediately ran out to his car. Watching her throw open the door and climb in, he frowned. “I think we’ll be just fine,” he amended his statement.

“Well if you have any problems, just give me a call on my cell. And thank you, Gil,” Catherine added, as he turned to go.

Grissom simply nodded as he slowly shuffled toward his car, giving himself time to think. Clearing his throat, he uneasily slid behind the steering wheel, tossing a glance in Lindsey’s general location.

“Don’t think that I’m going to talk to you, just because I agreed to go get ice cream with you,” she informed him, definitely jutting out her chin, and staring out of her window.

“I thought that I was going to do all of the talking?” Grissom asked, raising an eyebrow, before turning on the car. “Like I said, it’s not every day that someone agrees to listen to me. I was thinking that I could perhaps run one of my seminars by you? You’ll be honest with me, right?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Lindsey noncommittally shrugged.

Grissom nodded, as he launched into one of his presentations on the life cycle of the Danaus plexippus, or the Monarch butterfly.

“That’s stupid, Uncle Gil,” she mumbled, sitting up straighter in her seat when she noticed that they were approaching the old-fashioned ice cream stand.

“Which part?” Grissom asked, frowning. “I thought that it sounded very intellectually stimulating.”

“Yeah, but people always end up leaving you, and it’s stupid to talk about them as if they care.”

“People?” Grissom raised an eyebrow. “Or butterflies?”

“I meant butterflies,” Lindsey mumbled, her face instantly blushing.

“But you said ‘people,’” he pointed out.

“Well them, too. People always leave,” Lindsey informed Grissom, trying her hardest not to sniffle.

Parking the car in one of the parking spots, Grissom rubbed his beard in thought, before finally replying. “All people eventually cease to be,” he admitted to Lindsey, neither one of the two making a move to get out of the car. “But that doesn’t mean that they ever completely leave us.”

“Yes they do,” Lindsey argued, silent tears sliding down her cheeks. “My father died, my best friend died last year, Detective Brass almost died; my mom might as well be dead, for all she cares about me.”

“What do you mean?” Grissom quietly asked, tilting his head to the side in order to better study Lindsey’s face. “Your mother loves you very much. Do you know how I know that?”

“How…?” Lindsey sniffled.

“Because she talks about you all of the time.”

“But I don’t want her to love me, and I don’t want to love her!” Lindsey suddenly yelled. “It’ll hurt all that much more, when she finally dies!”

Grissom furrowed his eyebrows, wondering if Lindsey knew something about Catherine that he didn’t know. “She’s not sick, is she?” he prodded her.

“No, but—”

“Then let her love you, and let yourself love her. People die, as you know, pumpkin, but that doesn’t mean that we need to stop living in the here and now.”

“But it’s so hard,” Lindsey whispered, turning to look at Grissom. “It’s so much easier to make everyone hate me, and then when they die, I won’t have to miss them,” she continued, her voice hitching in her throat as new tears slid down her cheeks.

Grissom reached across the center consol, and very carefully brushed a few of Lindsey’s tears away. “But they’ll miss getting to know the real you,” he pointed out. “And you’ll miss out on life.” Lindsey quietly stared down at her feet, taking a deep breath to control her shaking. “Lindsey,” he hesitated for a moment. “I really think that you should get some professional help… someone who can help you deal with everything that has happened in your life thus far.”

“But I don’t want to see anyone special,” Lindsey swallowed. “Can’t I just keep talking to you, Uncle Gil?” she asked.

“I’m afraid not,” Grissom slowly shook his head from side to side. “I’m not equipped to help you process some of your issues. If you had a question on the dung beetle, or the butterfly, or any other insect, for that matter, I could lend you a hand. In this case, though, I really think that you should talk to someone else. Your mom can help you find someone good,” he added.

Lindsey sniffled, nodding her head. “I’ll think about it; that’s the best that I can do right now. But Uncle Gil?” she then asked.

“What?”

“I just want to go home now. Would that be okay?”

“Of course,” Grissom tried to smile at her, before turning the car back on, and pulling out of the parking lot. “Can I, uh, tell your mother what happened tonight…?” he hesitantly asked her.

“I guess so,” Lindsey mumbled, resting her head against the window. “And tell her that I don’t hate her, either,” she added. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Grissom agreed, “Although I think that you should tell her that yourself.”

“I’ll think about it,” Lindsey whispered, wiping the rest of her tears away, and glancing over at Grissom. “And thank you, Uncle Gil. Next time that we go out, I want a banana split, with a lot of sprinkles on it. Okay?” she asked him, as they pulled into her driveway.

“You got it,” Grissom nodded at her, watching her as she bounded out of the car, and up to her front door. Slowly following her, he gave Catherine a slight smile, when she appeared at the door.

“Are you okay?” Catherine asked him. “You’re home kind of early,” she pointed out.

“We’re fine. Lindsey really needs to see a counselor of some sort, though,” Grissom quietly informed her. “She’s still upset over Eddie’s death, and she believes that if she can get people to hate her, she won’t have to worry about them when they die. She loves you, Catherine.”

“Yeah?” she softly asked, rubbing the back of her neck. “Well she sure has a funny way of showing it.”

“She’s just a scared little girl, who wants you to love her, and who is afraid that you’re going to die on her.”

“I’m not going to die, though!” Catherine protested. “Not anytime soon, that is!”

“That might be so, but she needs to believe that, too. She knows that you haven’t given up on her, so make sure that you don’t,” Grissom advised her, slowly turning around so that he could leave. “Oh, and one more thing. She herself asked me to tell you that she doesn’t hate you.”

“Really?” Catherine asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Really,” Grissom confirmed. “So just find her a therapist, and go from there.”

“Thank you, Gil,” Catherine sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “I really appreciate everything.”

“That’s what friends are for,” he chuckled, before shuffling back to his car.

---------------

Present time, Sara’s apartment

Knocking on Sara’s door, Grissom waited for her to let him in. When she finally did, he raised an eyebrow at her. “You still have toothpaste, I presume?”

“The kind that will make your breath smell minty-fresh,” she smiled at him, stepping aside so that he could join her inside of her apartment.

“Then I think that I might need to borrow some later tonight, if you wouldn’t mind?”

“if that means that you’re spending the night, then of course,” Sara teased him, closing and locking the door behind him.

---------------

TO BE CONTINUED
 
A/N: I just realized that I actually own an entomology field guide! I forgot that I did an insect competition in my state’s Science Olympiad. Whoa. Who knew! As always, thanks for reading and/or reviewing the previous chapter. Oh, and thanks goes out to the San Diego Natural History Museum Field Guide, and to the American Museum of Natural History Butterfly Observatory. The poem is once again Robert Frost’s the ‘Wind and Window Flower.’

A/N #2: Okay, I’ve given this a lot of thought, and this chapter is a logical conclusion to the second retreat. I will most definitely have a third retreat (with some major angst that I am already excited about, not to mention a further exploration of the characters’ goals and fears), but I am going to leave this story alone for at least a month or two. I’m going to go back and edit the previous chapters, start working on the third retreat, and then begin posting them at a later date. I’ll add them right on to the end of this chapter, though, just to make it easier for everyone to find. I honestly appreciate all of your feedback and encouragement throughout this entire story; some of your comments spurred me to make changes for the better, and your positive reviews have just made this a pleasure to write. I hope that you enjoy the end to the second retreat, and again, I hope that you’ll stick around for the third one! It won’t disappoint, I can promise you that!

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Disclaimer: I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS.

Title: Moving Forward, and Sweet Painted Lady

---------------

Nick’s apartment, present time

“C’mon, Nick, let’s go!” Greg eagerly said, running a hand through his tussled hair. “Time’s a-wasting, and I have places to go, people to see, things to do—” he added, trying not to bounce up on down on the balls of his feet.

“Relax, Greggo,” Nick chuckled, grabbing a fleece sweatshirt from his hallway closet, and immediately pulling it on over his head. “We’ve got all day to find this cat. And remember, you promised me lunch,” he pointed out.

Greg quickly shook his head from side to side, barely containing a smile. “Let’s grab a bite to eat another day, okay?” he asked. “I’m too excited about picking up Starbucks.”

Nick raised an eyebrow, glancing over at the younger man. “Are you sure about naming the poor thing Starbucks? Starbucks is—”

“Only the best name in the world!” Greg finished for him, already walking out of the door, and heading toward his car. “Besides, I love coffee, and I’m going to love the cat, so therefore, I’m going to love the name! Wait, that didn’t make any sense. Oh well!” he shrugged, already moving toward the parking lot.

“No, it didn’t,” Nick laughed, shoving his keys and wallet in his back pocket, and following Greg out to the parking lot. “Are you sure that you’re calm enough to drive, bro? Maybe I should, just to be safe?” he suggested.

“Hey, great idea,” Greg immediately smiled at his friend. “That way, I can play with Starbucks the entire way home. Oh! But we have to stop at the pet store, first,” he reminded Nick. “What did Sara say that I needed?”

Nick just sighed, staring at Greg. “Litter, food, toys—”

“A collar, a harness, a leash,” Greg continued the list, climbing into Nick’s car.

“He isn’t a dog, Greggo,” Nick grinned at him. “No need for a harness or a leash.”

“Or she,” Greg corrected Nick, buckling himself in. “And I want to take it for walks, so I need a leash. If I just let it out, he or she could be killed; this way, at least I can keep the thing safe. Pet store, come on!”

Nick finally laughed, sliding into the driver’s seat, and turning the car on. “Where are you planning on getting this cat from, by the way?” he asked.

“I was actually thinking about an animal rescue agency,” Greg shrugged. “That way, I can give the cat a chance at a good life, rather than the animal people putting it to sleep.”

“Sounds like a plan, man,” Nick replied, pulling into the pet store’s parking lot twenty minutes later. “So… litter?” he asked.

“Yup,” Greg confirmed, reading the signs up above them until he came to the cat aisle. Throwing the necessary supplies into his cart, he raised an eyebrow. “This cat is going to be expensive,” he simply commented.

“Yeah, man,” Nick agreed, as he walked beside Greg up to the cash register. “Animals and babies are expensive to take care of. You wanted some responsibility, bro, right? Well, you’re definitely going to get it,” he informed his friend, as Greg paid for the materials.

“I know,” Greg grinned, as he wheeled the cart out to Nick’s car, immediately setting his newly purchased items inside of the trunk. “But I’m glad about that. It’ll be nice to have someone or something other than myself to care for. Speaking of responsibility, though, how’s it going with you and the hunt for conferences?” he asked, sliding into the passenger seat, and buckling himself in.

“Not bad,” Nick replied. “Grissom gave me permission to go to two separate conferences this year, and there is actually one coming up that I’d like to attend. It’s going to be at Syracuse University, and some big wigs are giving speeches.”

“That sounds… great,” Greg deadpanned, as Nick turned the car on, heading toward the animal shelter. “Very… fun.”

“It can be, man,” Nick chuckled. “But we’ll see how it goes. I’m looking forward to seeing what this year holds for me.”

“Dude! Stop the car!” Greg suddenly shouted, plastering his face against the passenger-side window.

“What? What’s wrong?” Nick anxiously asked him, slamming on the breaks.

“It’s Starbucks!” Greg pointed to a box by the side of the road, labeled with ‘free kittens.’ “Look, there’s an orange-colored cat poking its head out of that box right now!” he enthusiastically pointed, yanking open the door the moment that Nick pulled the car over. Jogging over to the box, and kneeling down beside it, he grinned. “Starbucks?”

That kitten simply looked up at Greg with an inquisitive expression, before replying with the softest of meows.

Nick just chuckled. “So that’s going to be Starbucks, eh, man?”

“Yup,” Greg replied, lifting the kitten up and out of the box. “They’re really free?” he then asked the man, who was seated beside the cats.

“Yeah, they’re free. That one is the last girl in the litter. Are you sure that you want her?” he gruffly asked Greg. “There ain’t no returns here, you know.”

“I’m sure,” Greg immediately replied, cradling the kitten in his arms. “Let’s go home, Starbucks,” he whispered. “Let’s go home.”

---------------

Warrick’s apartment, present time

“Hey, man, how’s it going?” Warrick asked Antoine through his cell phone, as he took a seat by his computer.

“Yo, what’s up, Rick?” Antoine replied, leaning against one of Vegas’s abandoned factory buildings. “It’s going, but you know how things are.”

“Yeah, I know,” Warrick sighed, cradling the phone between his shoulder and his ear, as he typed New York into a google search field. “Hey, listen, man. Is your mom at home?”

“Nah, she’s not,” Antoine replied, as he spotted one of his friends in the distance walking toward him.

“Do you know when she’ll be home, then?” Warrick persisted. “I have a question to ask her.”

“About what?” Antoine suspiciously asked Warrick, his guard immediately up.

“You, me, and New York,” Warrick grinned.

“Huh?”

“Vacation, Antoine. I need a vacation from this city, and I’m going to bet that you do, too.”

“A vacation to where?” Antoine hesitantly asked his Big Brother, furrowing his eyebrow in confusion. “To someplace like Lake Mead?”

“A little bit further away, man. How does New York sound?”

“New York State? I’ve never been out of Las Vegas, though, Warrick,” Antoine quietly said, nodding at his friend as he approached him.

“There’s a first time for everything, right?” Warrick softly asked him. “It might be kind of fun, actually.”

“Yeah,” Antoine slowly replied. “Yeah, it might be, and… I think I’d like that. But listen, Warrick. Can I give you a call later?” he asked. “In a couple of hours or so?”

“Sure, Antoine,” Warrick sighed. “Just be careful, man, got it?”

“Always, bro. Later.”

“Later.” Warrick hung up the phone, squinting at his computer screen. “This might be fun,” he repeated. “And a nice change of pace,” he grinned.

---------------

Catherine’s home, two weeks later

“Lindsey, are you ready?” Catherine asked her fourteen year old daughter, as she finished adding salt and butter to the microwaveable popcorn that she had just dumped into a large bowl.

“God, Mom,” Lindsey sighed, rolling her eyes. “I’m coming!” she snapped, storming into the kitchen, and reaching for two glasses. “Diet coke?” she then mumbled, this time much more softly.

“Yeah, thanks,” Catherine replied, trying to hide her frown from her daughter.

“Sorry,” Lindsey immediately sighed, as she filled both glasses with ice, and then grabbed the two-liter bottle of diet coke from the refrigerator. “Sometimes I forget that I no longer hate you,” she whispered, refusing to make eye contact with her mother, out of pure embarrassment.

“Well, thanks, I think,” Catherine raised an eyebrow, not entirely sure how to take that. “I think I… appreciate that?”

“You should,” her daughter replied. “Because I love you.”

“Love you, too, Linds,” Catherine grinned, trying to ignore the happy choked-up feeling growing in her throat. Love you, too, she repeated to herself, heading into the living room. “So, you wanted to see Step Up, right?” she then asked her daughter.

“Yup,” Lindsey nodded, immediately sitting down on one end of the couch, setting the two drinks down on the coffee table. “If that’s okay?” she hesitantly asked.

“Yeah, that’s fine, honey,” Catherine smiled, depositing the bowl of popcorn in the middle of the couch. “Here’s a blanket, too, in case you get cold,” she added, handing one over to her daughter.

Lindsey simply bit her lip, taking the blanket, and wrapping herself up in the blanket. Digging her hand into the popcorn bowl, she took a large handful, happily munching on it. “This will be fun,” she quietly told her mother. “I don’t think that we’ve done this in a very long time.”

“It’s been awhile,” Catherine agreed, shutting off her cell phone, and setting it aside. “And no one is going to bother us tonight,” she added, her smile immediately disappearing as the home phone rang. “I’m not going to get it,” she informed her daughter.

“You’d better,” Lindsey sighed. “It could be important.”

Catherine wrinkled her nose, slowly getting to her feet. Walking into the kitchen, she gingerly picked up the receiver, saying, “Willows residence.”

“Is Lindsey there?” a voice answered her. “This is Becky, from school.”

“Uh, yeah, hang on,” Catherine told the girl on the line, poking her head back into the living room. “It’s for you, Linds,” she announced.

“Is it a boy?” Lindsey questioned her mother.

“A girl,” Catherine informed her. “Becky? From school?”

“Then take a message, please,” Lindsey smiled at Catherine. “I’m busy tonight.”

With a happy sigh, Catherine did as Lindsey asked, before returning to the couch. “Love you,” she once again told her. “Even if you wouldn’t ditch your old mom for a boy.”

Lindsey simply rolled her eyes, grabbing another huge handful of popcorn.

Catherine understood that she and her daughter were not completely out of the woods just yet, and that Lindsey still had a lot of anger to deal with, as evidenced by the minor scene in the kitchen, but she also realized that they were finally on the right track. With Lindsey beginning to see a counselor next week, and by spending more and more time together as a family, Catherine hoped that with time, they would be able to patch up their slightly frayed relationship.

---------------

Grissom’s condo, a couple of months later

“Rise and shine, Sara,” Grissom quietly said, walking into his bedroom, and very carefully pulling open the blinds, blinking, as the sunlight poured in through the now open window. “It’s time to get going,” he added, setting a tray full of eggs, toast, and orange juice down on the bedside table.

“Mmmfg,” Sara mumbled, burying her head even further underneath her pillow. “Ten more minutes.”

“It’s noon already,” Grissom informed her, sitting down on the edge of the bed, and resting his hand on her hip. “We were supposed to leave at ten in the morning, but—” he trailed off, absentmindedly rubbing his chin.

“But what?” Sara curiously asked, cracking an eye open, and yawning.

“You looked too peaceful to wake up. But please, let’s get going; today is going to be a very important day,” he nervously added.

“I know,” Sara again mumbled, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, and sitting up. “What are you researching again?” she asked, taking the glass of orange juice, and slowly sipping it. “And thanks, this is good juice.”

“Communication between the butterflies,” Grissom immediately replied. “Mostly, though, I would like to observe the butterflies in their new habitat, to see how they interact with one another. And you’re welcome,” he added.

“Okay,” Sara shrugged, throwing the covers off of her body, and trying to stretch. “I just hope that I can help you somehow,” she added, moving closer to him, and resting her free hand on his knee.

“You’ll be able to help me, don’t you worry about that,” Grissom quietly replied, blushing. Unless, of course you say no to me. If you say no, then the ride home will be a long and awkward one.

“Good, I’m glad,” Sara smiled at him, setting her glass down. Leaning toward him, she lightly pecked him on the lips. “Then I’ll get dressed, and then we can head out.” Walking over to the bedroom’s spare closet, Sara pulled out a light blue t-shirt and a pair of pants, tossing them on the bed. Although she and Grissom had not been officially living together, she had clothing at his home, and he had clothing at her apartment… for mornings such as this one. She couldn’t help but notice that they had been spending more and more time sleeping together in one of their beds, than alone.

Grissom absentmindedly nodded, standing up, and heading toward the living room. “I’ll be waiting for you out here,” he told her, shuffling out of the bedroom, and toward the couch. Taking a seat on one of the cushions, he stared at the table in front of himself, instantly lost to the depths of his mind. Okay, I need my wallet, keys, tape recorder, Sara’s camera, he ran through his mental checklist. The butterfly guidebook, the ring, he smiled, suddenly fingering the small box in his front pocket.

“I’ll be ready in a couple of minutes,” Sara loudly informed him, returning her attention to her outfit.

Deep in thought, Grissom did not hear her response. So how am I going to do this…? He asked himself. Should I write a speech? Or just hand her the ring when we first get there? Or when we leave? Or during lunch? Glancing down at the butterfly guidebook sitting in front of him on the table, a small smile slowly tugged at the corners of Grissom’s mouth. “Well that’s an interesting idea,” he mused, leaning forward on the couch, and clasping his hands in his lap.

“What’s an interesting idea?” Sara interrupted his thoughts, walking into the living room, and sitting down beside him.

“Nothing,” Grissom calmly chuckled, glancing over at Sara. “All set?”

“Yup,” she replied, yawning once more. “Let me just grab the tray from the bedroom, and I’ll be ready to go.”

Grissom again nodded, standing up, and reaching for the guidebook. “Just give me one more minute,” he instructed Sara, walking into his home office, and very carefully picking up an envelope and some cotton. Clearing his throat, Grissom glanced at the still open door, taking a seat behind his desk. Reaching into his pocket, he slowly removed the ring box, opened it up, and nodded once more. “Hopefully you’ll say yes,” he whispered to himself, as he placed the ring in the middle of the wad of cotton, carefully protecting the ring. Then grabbing the book of poetry from his bookshelf, he swallowed, nervously flipping to the page of a very special poem. Ripping the entire page out, and scrawling something at the bottom of the poem, he folded it around the cotton-encased ring, sticking both objects into the envelope, which he labeled with Sara’s name. “The Painted Lady butterfly,” he mumbled to himself, flipping to the Vanessa cardui page in the guidebook. Taping the envelope in the book, he grinned at his handiwork.

“Hey, you ready?” Sara asked, poking her head into the office, and flashing Grissom another smile. “It’s almost one o’clock,” she informed him, a twinkle in her eye.

“I’m ready,” Grissom chuckled, standing up, and gingerly grabbing the guidebook. “Do you have your camera, by the way?”

“Yup,” Sara told him. And then, “Do you want me to hold that for you?” she asked, already reaching for the guidebook.

“Thank you, but no, I can hold onto it,” Grissom calmly replied. “But let’s go.”

An hour later, Grissom and Sara arrived at the butterfly observatory, Grissom looking slightly flustered.

“Are you okay?” Sara asked in concern, reaching a hand out toward him, and lightly pressing her palm to his forehead. “Grissom, you’re warm,” she sighed, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe we should go home? You just feel so clammy to me.”

“I’m okay,” Grissom shook his head, reaching for her hand, and softly kissing it. “I’m just anxious to get this research done with, and to spend some more quality time with you.”

“Okay,” Sara doubtfully replied, twisting her hand so that she could entwine her fingers with his. “But are you sure? Even your hands feel kind of clammy.”

“I’m fine,” he once again tried to reassure her, gently squeezing her hand. “Just have fun today,” he flashed her a small smile, leading her toward the ticket counter. Swallowing to hide his uneasiness, Grissom’s eyes suddenly shot open, and he yanked his hand out of her grasp.

“What’s wrong?” Sara quickly asked, her voice instantly filled with alarm.

“The book! I left the book in the car. And do you have your camera?” Grissom anxiously asked her, nodding in relief when he saw the strap hanging off of her shoulder. “I’ll be right back,” he hastily added, immediately turning around, and heading back toward his car. If you don’t get a hold of yourself, Sara is going to suspect that something isn’t right. Hell, she ALREADY suspects that something isn’t right. Just breathe, for God’s sakes. You’re no good to anyone if you pass out. Quickly unlocking the door, Grissom reached in, snagging the book from the compartment by his seat. Then, heading back toward Sara, he held the book out in front of him, nodding. “I’m just tired, I suppose,” he told her. “I get forgetful when I’m tired.”

“And warm,” Sara added, the concern still etched on her face. “Maybe your body is trying to fight something?” she suggested.

Yes, it is currently locked in a battle of nerves, he rubbed his beard. Clearing his throat, he simply shrugged. “Perhaps; but for the time being, I feel fine, so shall we go look at the butterflies?”

Sara slowly nodded in defeat, sighing. “Sure, let’s go see the butterflies,” she agreed, following Grissom up to the counter, and smiling, as she remembered what had happened the last time that they had come to the observatory. “Didn’t we hold hands the last time that we were here?” she asked, her smile growing wider by the moment.

“Yes, we did,” Grissom confirmed, trying to smile, but too nervous to do so. And this time, perhaps we’ll do much more than just hold hands; with any luck, we’ll become engaged.

What’s going on with you? Sara wanted to ask him, realizing that the last time that he had been this fidgety, he had been trying to kiss her for the last hour or so. “So which way?” she softly asked instead, once again slipping her hand into his palm, and smiling at the warmth emanating from him.

Grissom cleared his throat, swallowing. “I was thinking that we could sit on one of the benches,” he suggested. “I’d like to observe the butterflies, as I mentioned before. And perhaps you can take some pictures?” he then asked, leading her into the main section of the observatory, and toward one of the benches.

“Of course,” Sara cheerfully told him. “My camera is ready and waiting to serve you,” she grinned, purposely letting her shoulder bump into his. When Grissom did not acknowledge the touch with one of his usual witty remarks, her smile slowly faded, and she stared at the ground. Yeah, something is definitely going on with you. Why the hell can’t you just talk to me about whatever is wrong?

“Thank you,” Grissom simply replied, moving toward the nearest bench, and taking a seat. Waiting for Sara to sit down beside him, he set his book in his lap, pulling out a small tape recorder. “To record my thoughts on,” he wryly smiled at her.

Sara chuckled. “So, what would you like me to take pictures of?” she asked him. “Am I looking for anything in particular?”

“Yes,” Grissom nodded, glancing around the room. “Keep your eyes open for any butterflies that are flying together, or which are hanging upside down from a tree branch. In particular, I’d like to find some of the Vanessa cardui butterflies,” he informed her.

“And what does the Vanessa cardui butterfly look like?” Sara questioned him, raising an eyebrow, and preparing her camera.

“The Vanessa cardui, also known as the Painted Lady butterfly, is orange and black on top, pink on the bottom, with four eyespots on its wings. It should be fairly easy to spot,” he added, already looking around. It better be easy to spot, because I’m so nervous right now, that I really need to go relieve my bladder. And soon.

“Sure,” Sara pursed her lips, leaning back on the bench. “I’ll let you know when I see one flying by. And out of curiosity,” she continued, “How do butterflies communicate with one another?”

Grissom raised an eyebrow, holding back a smile. “Mostly pheromones,” he chuckled. “Some butterflies communicate with sound, but most of them depend on the chemical cues.”

“Oh,” Sara nodded. “Well that makes sense, I suppose.” Shrugging, she began taking pictures of some of the flying butterflies, pointing a couple of the more colorful ones out to Grissom.

Where are the Painted Ladies? Grissom anxiously asked himself, trying to calmly look around the room. They’re supposed to be one of the most common butterflies in the world. You’d think that the observatory would have dozens of them flying around, he frowned, realizing that his nerves were steadily growing more frazzled by the moment. The heat of the observatory, he also realized, was doing nothing to help relax him.

“Hey, is that one?” Sara suddenly asked, tearing him out of his reverie.

“Where?” Grissom asked, sitting up straighter, and glancing around the observatory.

“Over there, flying in the sky. It’s coming right toward us,” she told Grissom, pointing at the butterfly, before reaching for her camera, and trying to take a good picture of the little flying creature.

“Yes, that’s one,” Grissom whispered, sudden relief flooding his voice. “Sara, can you do me another favor?” Grissom quietly asked her, protectively cradling the book in his hands.

“Of course,” Sara smiled at him, after snapping her picture.

“I’d like to observe the butterfly. Can you look it up in the field guide for me, please?”

Sara simply nodded, taking the book from his hands. “What did you say it was called again? The Vanessa—”

“Cardui,” he nervously finished for her. “It’s under Van—”

Sara rolled her eyes. “Thanks, but I think I can spell Vanessa,” she told him, flipping through the book. “There appears to be something stuck in the page, though,” she frowned, her eyes widening as she read her own name on the envelope. “Grissom? What is this…?” she inquired, tentatively setting her camera down on the bench beside her, and very carefully removing the taped envelope from the guidebook.

Grissom shrugged. “Perhaps you should open it up,” he whispered, his mouth suddenly going dry. God help me, I have to go to the bathroom right now, he swallowed, holding his leg still so that it wouldn’t bounce in nervousness.

Sara gingerly opened the envelope, immediately spotting the piece of paper covering the cotton. “Grissom?” she asked again, confusion and hesitation on her face.

“Just read it, Sara,” he softly told her.

Unfolding the piece of paper with shaky hands, Sara’s chin slowly dropped. “Isn’t this the poem that you recited to me a year and a half ago, during the first retreat?” she curiously asked him, now slightly confused.

“Yes, but now with a different idea in mind. Read it for me?” Grissom requested, his face once again flushed in nervousness.

“Okay,” Sara swallowed, blinking. “‘Lovers, forget your love/And list to the love of these/She a window flower/And he a winter breeze.’”

“Remember, you’re the window flower, and I’m the winter breeze,” Grissom quietly reminded her.

Sara numbly nodded, once again glancing down at the paper. “‘When the frosty window veil/Was melted down at noon/And the caged yellow bird/Hung over her in tune. He marked her through the pane/He could not help but mark/And only passed her by/To come again at dark.’”

“I’ve loved you for years now, Sara,” Grissom interrupted her. “For longer than you can even imagine, and certainly for far longer than I’ve ever admitted to.”

Sara blinked again, swallowing her confusion. “What are you—”

“Please, keep reading,” Grissom requested.

“‘He was a winter wind/Concerned with ice and snow/Dead weeds and unmated birds/And little of love could know. But he sighed upon the sill/He gave the sash a shake/
As witness all within/Who lay that night awake.’ Grissom, I don’t—”

“The wind wants to concern himself with more than just death and ice, Sara. Keep reading.”

Sara tried to still her shaking hand, by taking a deep breath. Why is my heart beating so fast? What is he doing? He’s not… proposing, is he? He wouldn’t do that; he couldn’t do that… could he? Does he have enough courage to do something like that? the analyst in her asked herself. “‘Perchance he half prevailed/To win her for the flight/From the firelit looking-glass/And warm stove-window light. But the flower leaned aside/And thought of naught to say/And morning found the breeze/A hundred miles away.” Looking up at Grissom, Sara again blinked, taking another deep breath. “I still don’t understand,” she whispered.

Clearing his throat, Grissom hesitantly reached over to Sara, taking the envelope from her shaky hands. Pulling out the cotton ball, he slowly unwrapped it, gingerly freeing the delicate ring from its soft bindings. “Even the wind can learn to love, Sara,” he whispered, reciting what he had written at the bottom of the poem. And then, looking into her eyes, he swallowed. “I once told you that I didn’t know much about love, or even how to love. Well you’ve opened up my heart, and I’m ready… if you are. Will you marry me?” he simply asked her, his palms beginning to sweat even more. What if she says no? This is a mistake! What if she says no, because she doesn’t think that I’m ready!

“Will I… what?” Sara asked in confusion, the blood rushing to her face. “What did you just ask me?”

“I can’t live without you, Sara Sidle,” Grissom swallowed, still holding the ring out toward her in the palm of one of his hands. “I just can’t live without you. Will you marry me?” he hesitantly repeated his question. A single tear slid down Sara’s cheek, followed by a second one, and a third one, and then a fourth one. “Please don’t cry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry; I thought you’d be—” Happy!

“I’m just so happy,” Sara quietly admitted, flinging herself into his arms, careful not to knock the ring out of his hand. “Of course I’ll marry you, Grissom. Of course I will!” she happily cried, as he slid the ring onto her finger. Burying her head against his neck, she continued to sob. “I love you!”

“I love you, too,” Grissom replied, wrapping his arms tightly around her. “More than you can possibly know.”

---------------

Fin
 
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