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Smoldering Desires	By : msgrits Category: CSI > General Views: 13066 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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A/N Smryczko desperation was exactly the correct thing to say. Thank you for understanding my need for a bid of coddeling. I had to get up and sub a step aerobics class. I was in the middle of a nice little GSR dream. Darn kid and his darn fever.

So we kind of sort of know where Gil. Why the South? Because my dears the South is the root all healing and goodness. And the thought that Gil Grissom could ever be down the street from my digs makes me giddy. Right now all I got is Morgan Freeman and John Grishom(sp). Nice but not nearly as nice at a certain bearded entomologists.
Enjoy and email me if you have concerns or issues.
One more thing. Cybro, one of my wonderful betas, pointed out that I always end up getting Sara preggers. She's right. Nine out of ten Sara end up pregnant in my stories. Why? Who knows why maybe because Sara and I are close to same. I didn't think I was having fertility issues but maybe....
Anywho enjoy.
Smoldering Desires Part Six
Embers

Somewhere in the Southeast

Gil walked into the small, cozy cabin he had come to know as home over the past few weeks. His hand found the light switch, surprised that the lights weren�t on and that Sara was not waiting for him.
He resisted the urge to call out. She wasn�t here. She was hundreds of miles away with the people who were essentially his brother, sister, and sons.
�Lucy I�m home.�
�Ricky!�
He smiled a bit as he thought of the silly ritual.

He moved through the warm space ending up in the kitchen where he pulled together ingredients for dinner, all organic. The staff nutritionist insisted that all guests eat only organic food of their own design or from the little caf� that sat on the property. His intake of red meat had been limited to once a week. Sara would be happy about that, he thought ruefully.
Over the last few weeks, Gil had been prodded, poked, stuck and thumped. There was a bevy of professionals on his case besides the nutritionist.
An MD who specialized in blood diseases.
We are here to wage war on this disease, Dr. Grissom. Olivier�s is attacking you and we are going to attack it. We are going to put you on an aggressive drug therapy. There may be side effects, such as muscle weakness or hair loss. Hopefully, our holistic approach will minimize the effects.
A personal trainer.
Dr. Grissom, I want you to do four sessions of cardio a week and two strength training sessions. I�ll leave your program with gym personnel. We�ll check in every two weeks to see how your cardiovascular health and strength are improving. They will improve Dr. Grissom. You have my word on that. We have an excellent gym. But many of my clients find it helpful to do at least part of their workout in the out of doors. It helps them focus on the journey ahead. You can do anything from walking the property to swimming in the ocean. We are going to beat this thing, Dr. Grissom. When it�s over, you are going to feel better than you have in years.
A therapist he saw once a week had revealed that he suffered from depression and prescribed a low level dose of Prozac.
Dr. Grissom, your chances of beating this thing will increases ten fold if you tell your family and friends. You have a solid support group. One of them should be here with you. If you don�t call Sara, maybe you could contact Mr. Brass or Catherine. They must be worried sick about you. You say you don�t want to cause them any pain. I am sure they are in pain not knowing where you are or if you are safe.
He promised to think about it.

Agape Retreat Center

The outskirts of Las Vegas
Sara sat nervously between Catherine and Greg. Even between their two slender frames, Sara still looked impossibly thin and vulnerable.
Dr. Margaret Katz looked over her tiny glasses, reminding them all too much of Grissom.
She pushed a button on a tiny recorder.
�I like to record these when persons besides family members have been given permission to review medical history and plan of treatment.�
Three pale faces stared back. Greg seemed to be the only one capable of coherent thought.
I am not equipped to handle this.
�First of all your baby�s heart beat is strong. Do you want to know the sex?�
Sara looked at the woman. The sex. Her baby was still alive. Her baby�s heart was beating. She nodded her head, a ray of light tickling the edges of her despair.
�A girl.�
Sara smiled. Gil would prefer a girl. He always said he understood women much better than men. Sara blinked back tears and gripped Greg�s arm nervously.
�I can�t make any guarantees, considering the alcohol and your dehydration.�
�Dehydration?� Catherine asked.
�That�s another issue. You are nominally dehydrated. I assume you have not been eating properly or drinking the proper fluids�
Shame coursed through Sara�s body. She was her mother all over again. No real regard or care for her children. For the first time she was glad that Grissom had left. She didn�t want him to see what she had become, evading the obvious idea that he had contributed to her current state.
Sensing the other woman�s discomfort Dr. Katz closed the folder. �None of that. We can�t change what has happened.�
�So my baby�� Sara asked thinly
�Like I said, I can�t make any promises. But I have seen expectant mother�s in worse shape than you deliver healthy babies.�
Dr. Katz gave Catherine a look. Catharine�s voice was low and willowy, snaking through the room like a soft flute. Sara didn�t think she had ever heard the woman speak so softly.
�When I checked in, I was three months pregnant. I had been high my entire pregnancy and I was an addict for at least two years.�
Dr. Katz leaned over and spoke softly to the young woman. �Sara, you aren�t an alcoholic.�
�I�m not?�
�No. You use alcohol irresponsibly just like you use work irresponsibly. Work wasn�t available this time, so you drank. Based on genetic and situational indicators, I am certain that you have been depressed at least half your life.�
�I don�t. I mean I don�t get sad much��
Dr. Katz turned a pen over in her surprisingly pudgy hand. �That�s not the only side of depression. It�s one but not the only one. You are a projectionist. Your coping mechanism is different. Most substance abuse is related to numbing the pain. Over achievers find different ways to do it. They work harder. They work longer. They exhaust themselves so they don�t have to think. It doesn�t wave any red flags because of the success the overwork garners them.
Dr. Katz continued. �Your boyfriend disappearing, the break up, the recent trouble at work. To be honest, the break down was probably good for your mental and physical health. I know that sounds strange. Those people that walk into their old office and shoot everyone? They bottled everything up. They would not let themselves feel. You are completely healthy and normal and I count it a great triumph in you that you gave yourself permission, no matter how skewed it was, to feel the pain. I am sure that your friends have great deal to do with it. For the first time in your young life, you have people that both want to and are capable of helping you through this.�
She looked from Catherine to Greg. �Ms. Sidle, you are a very lucky person. You have wonderful friends.� She held up a sheet of paper. �There�s a Mr. Stokes listed. A Mr. Brass, a Mr. Brown. Some people come in here and they don�t have anyone to list. They come in alone. I met your Mr. Grissom years ago.�
Sara frowned creating the tiny lines around her mouth that Gil had insisted were sexy. �You did?�
�He brought me in.� Catherine said softly.
�I just started working at the lab. My random drug test came up positive. I had gotten clean enough to pass the new hire screening. He had known me for maybe four months. He looked at me and said �Catherine, I will not let you throw away your life. The lab has a three strikes policy. We are going to use every one if we have to.�
Dr. Katz nodded. �So why don�t you let us take care of you and that little girl and let Mr. Brass find your Mr. Grissom. Because the man I met would not want to miss out on the birth of his first daughter.�

March whistled softly as he admired the round bottom of the woman in front of him.

Her name was Marta and he had tried to get her attention for weeks. He was not even a blip on her radar screen. He loathed resorting to the �I am a doctor� routine but he was desperate. His rock hard abs and runner�s thighs weren�t doing the trick.
Just as he was about to step up his pace, he spotted Jim leaning against his dark sedan.
He laughed a bit. Jim would find him at the gym.
He watched the short clad bottom walk in a different direction as he came to where his old friend stood.
�I am sure she�ll be here tomorrow or the next day.� Brass said good-naturedly.
�I am not a young man. I might not be.� March said. His heavy accent reminded Brass of Nick�s.
Brass was blocking the shined and waxed door of the car. His arms were folded, causing his well tailored jacket to pull a bit.
�What can I do you for?� March spoke with the ease and charm for which his patients adored him.
�Where is he, March?� Brass had no time for pleasantries. These days, efficiency was his friend. He didn�t bother to cajole or play suspects. These days it was all straight forward. Collect every fiber of evidence. Pick them up. Put them in jail. No deal. No time.
�I expected you sooner.� March admitted as he rocked back on his expensive running shoes, the sweat starting to dry in the cool night air.
�I am not operating on all four cylinders. I checked the lab doc and our insurance docs. I should have called you first.� Brass scratched through a full head of hair. He did it to irritate his friend who was loosing follicles every day.
�I can�t tell you. You know that.�
�Alright, what can you tell me?�
�I can tell you that he asked for a six month head start.�
�Six months! He could be dead in six months.�
March shrugged. His toned arms were starting to goosebump in the cool of the night.
�I guess that�s the idea.� Brass replied.
March said nothing.
�How bad is it?� Brass pushed.
�If I were talking with you about a patient who had a certain disease, I would say that it is almost as bad as anything I have seen. I would also tell you that this hypothetical patient is at the only place that can pull him through.� March looked nervous. He might have said too much. But it never set well with him that Gil had pulled a disappearing act.
�Sara�s sick.�
Blood drained from March�s ruggedly handsome face. �What�.�
�I don�t know it all. Catherine just called. She had some sort of breakdown. They checked her into Agape. You know how he broke up with her, right?�
March shook his head. He wished he had a jacket. �No.�
�He told her there was someone else. Said he just wanted to screw her.�
March leaned again the car mirroring Brass� stance. �Shit.�
�I know what he�s doing. I know he thinks being an asshole will help Sara get over him. He is one of the smartest men I know, and he does such stupid things where she�s concerned. Can you find him? Tell him Sara is sick.�
March chewed his bottom lip. �If I call him and tell him Sara is sick, he will leave where he is like a bat out of hell and he won�t go back. This is his only shot, Jim.�
Brass looked at the dark, clear sky. �March, you know your stuff. I guess we can hold down Sara�s end for a little longer. Give Gris a fighting chance. He needs to be one hundred percent when he sees her because she�s going to kill him.�
�I wish had someone that cared enough to kick my ass when I needed it.� March said not looking at any of the coffee hued women that left their aerobics class.
�Me too, my friend. Me too.�
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Smoldering Desires