The Long Road Back to Vegas

A/N: I hate to say this, but there will be a Part III. I made a few revisions to Part I to put things in correct time line. Red Mound, Mississippi is a fictionalized town in South Mississippi, so don't look for it on the map. This story is first hand on the conditions associated with Hurricane Katrina. Oh, by the way, I am still playing with the characters, I promise to return them unharmed when I’m finished.


The Long Road Back to Vegas
By NoHayRemedio

Part II

August 29, 2005 7:00 am CST


Sara Sidle lay in the small dark room, under a lightweight hand quilted quilt, listening to the howling winds as the panes on the window to her right rattled loudly. The storm was getting significantly worse and he was out there in it somewhere. She was aware of a different sound above the wind and the rain, an almost creaking sound. It lasted almost a full five seconds. Her curiosity got the better of her when she heard the creaking again, shortly after the first one. It sounded somewhat like a hinged door, whose hinges had long ago rusted, caught flapping in a breeze, but it was very different considering the sheer volume of the winds, now pelting harder against the window. She stood and looked out through the curtains and what she saw amazed her, startled her. Two 75 feet pine trees lay uprooted before her eyes. The force that brought those two trees down had to be phenomenal. Sara's brain went into physics mode: The wind had to have been gusting at 135 mph bring those trees down. A sudden stabbing pierced her heart. Grissom was out there in it somewhere.

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Grissom was driving south along Highway 11 in an old beat-up red pick-up. He'd ridden with Sara's uncle to check on Tommy's friend for hurricane preparation. Gil was frankly impressed with how stoic Tommy had been when they had taped the windows with duct tape, secured lose objects in the yard, filling the bathtubs with water, checking flashlights and radios for fresh batteries. But a quick cell phone call had turned Tommy into a complete basket case.

"What is it, Tommy?" Grissom looked up at the man with flashlight in hand, repeatedly turning the light on and off.

"Oh," he looked sad, "My girlfriend Diane, up in Hattiesburg, is scared and wants me to come stay with her to ride out the storm. But I told her you two were still here and neither of you has ever been through a hurricane before, so I better stay with ya'll."

"Go to her. Sara and I will be fine." Grissom said almost dismissively.

"But I can't leave you two without a vehicle. I've only got the pick-up truck and if I leave, ya'll would be stranded till I can come back."

"Tell you what Tommy, you and I can ride up there together and I'll drive your truck back here. You stay with Diane and tomorrow after the storm blows over, I can come get you or maybe she can bring you back."

"The man with the plan." Tommy smiled at the bearded man who they had discovered were the same age. They had left Sara with her eyes glued to the television watching Jim Cantore on the Weather Channel, about an hour and a half ago. Grissom wasn't used to driving a manual on the column and had his share of starts and stops as the rain and wind surrounded him. He wanted to get back to Sara as quickly as he could, but visibility was very poor as the rain pounded into the windshield and at times the truck curved against the power of the wind.

Gil Grissom stopped the truck at a four-way stop sign, looking to see if anything was coming, but he knew better. Nothing was coming. He'd only met one car on the road on the trip from Red Mound to Hattiesburg and back and it was a Mississippi Highway Patrol car, speeding southward with blue lights flashing. Out of the corner of Grissom's eye, he saw something that astounded him: a tall ten year old pine tree bent as the gust of wind blew. Several seconds later as he turned to watch, another gust bent the tree again. It was an odd sight, almost like the string on a bow, without pressure the string was taunt and with pressure it bowed. His scientific brain did the equations. The wind had to be gusting at 110 mph.

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Grissom navigated the downed trees and branches to finally make it back to Tommy's ranch style brick home in the woods. As he pulled the keys out of the ignition and was opening the door to the truck, Sara's body immediately wrapped around his.

"They said on the news, the levees broke in New Orleans." Sara shouted into his ear, over the relentless howling winds. The sound Sara had heard earlier, the creaking, started, startled, Sara grabbed Grissom by the hand pulling him toward the house.

"Sara..." as Grissom turned back to the truck, he was overwhelmed by the power of the hurricane as he watched the top of a hundred foot pine tree come within feet of where the two of them had previously been standing, the branches smashing hard against the ground, missing the truck by mere inches. Grissom and Sara reached the house and slammed the door behind them.

"Griss, I've calculated there are three trees out there that could impact this house if they topple. One would depend on sustained winds of 150 mph coming from the east with the front whip of the storm. The other two, however, could fall with 125 mph winds. On the radio, they said sustained winds over this town called Waveland were measured at..." Grissom kissed her. He'd learned over the course of the past week, the best way to stop her over talking was to kiss her and he happily did it every chance he could. His lips demanded her full attention and as he knew her attention was somewhat limited, his hands, quickly, like a pickpocket in Grand Central Station, relieved her of her shirt as the material passed their lips, they parted for a second and resumed their passionate kiss. He had the black bra off before the need for oxygen broke their kiss again. His hands roamed around to cup her breasts as he backed her up to the wall to steady himself.

Sara pushed his hands away from her breast almost in a huff. Grissom looked at her, wondering if he'd done something wrong, arching his eyebrows. Sara smiled, placed her hands on his shoulders trailed over his chest, sliding down his thighs and quickly unzipping his pants. She had known he'd gone commando, because while he'd been gone she'd washed all their clothes and Gil's boxers were all in the dryer. She reached one hand into the opening, with his grunt, she pulled his penis out and knelt and opened her mouth to his warmth. Grissom could do nothing but stare open-mouthed, eyes glazed with lust, at the vision worshipping his cock with her mouth. He head bobbled up and down as he felt her creamy lips enclose over him. His hips instinctively pressed into her face, as his hands rested in her silky chestnut hair. Her tongue was flicking at the head, when suddenly she took all of him that his pants allowed deep into her mouth. His hands pulled her head as close to his pelvis as was possible, allowing her head no movement. His hips bucked into her and within seconds, his juices flowed down her throat. He released her head, her lips and mouth were removed from him, and the warmth disappeared.

He bent down to his knees, Sara's head and eyes were cautiously studying the pattern of the rug beneath them. With his right hand, he brought her face even with his; the blue eyes met the amber. "Sara, I didn't mean to use you like that."

"You didn't use me, Griss."

"I used you for my own pleasure, thinking nothing of your's."

"I performed fetellio, you came in my mouth. I loved having you there. I did it for you."

"Then let me do something for you, my dear." With those words, Grissom stood, pulling her up with him, standing nearly eye to eye. They gazed into each other's eyes, vast and expressive; many things were said between them without a word spoken. A loud creaking noise broke their contact. Grissom moved to the window and looked through the stripped duct tape over the glass; he saw a tree had sliced through one of Tommy's outer buildings. "Oh shit."

Sara hurried to his side, "Damn, this storm is getting worse." There were at least six trees littering the back yard, one obscenely uprooted into the swimming pool. As the watched, another tree fell almost silently against the roar of the gusting wind. "Sounds like a speeding train coming."

"Tornados are off-shoots of hurricanes." Grissom turned back to face Sara. "This hurricane is much more severe than any that have ever impacted the US. I think the hurricane experts were wrong about this one. We're about 40 miles inland, and storms usually dissipate after landfall and looks like at least 100 mph sustained
winds with gusts to probably 120 mph."

Sara nodded, silent for a few moments, "Right now, probably 135 mph winds."

"How did you come to that conclusion?"

"Physics,” she smiled into his blue eyes.

Grissom smirked. "How about we get physical?"

"We can't really do anything else, now, can we?"

Their eyes smiled, Their lips met. He could taste himself in her mouth. He knew it was his time to pleasure her as he guided her into the bedroom they'd shared since they'd been in Mississippi. He encouraged her to lie down on the bed and open her legs to him. "Sara, I am your pleasure instrument. Anything you want, you get."

"I want you. I've always wanted you."

"You've got me now and forever." The feel of the vibrations from his voice on her slit sent shock waves of pleasure scattering throughout her body. He exhaled into her with the same results. His tongue snaked out lightly over her clit, just a quick touch, and her body slightly rose up to meet him. The tip of his tongue began making slow sensual circles over her clit, he could taste her unique flavor, no woman had ever tasted as good to him as Sara did, like salt and sweetness together. Sara's body began pushing slightly into him, as he slid a finger into her opening. She rode his fingers as he lapped her wetness with his tongue. Sara reached down into his dampened curls and grasped his ears.

"Griss, stop. I want all of you in me. Now."

He stopped immediately. His breath heavy against her again, as her body slightly spasmed. He kissed up her body, through her patch of dark brown hair, over her slightly curved stomach, spending several extra seconds with each perked breast, up her long creamy neck, pulling the length of his body, slowly covering hers. Her fingers trailed over his shoulders and neck, drawing him to her lips. Their lips met and both could taste the essence of the other in each mouth. Sara reached down and gripped his hardened prick and aimed it into her core. He pushed until their pubic hairs met. Sara gasped as he filled her completely. Slowly, ever so slowly, he began to move within her, drawing her in and out. Slow, oh so slow. The wind continued to howl and trees fell, but neither of the two people in the bed, connected in the most basic level, noticed. They moved together for what may have been hours, time ceased to matter, the only things that mattered to them were the movements of their bodies and the pleasure they both received from their union. Sara felt her body begin to spasm, tightening instinctively. Grissom felt the first wave of her orgasm and began to push harder into her. The second spasm completely engulfed him, the third, drug him under the current. The only sounds were guttural in nature, groans and grunts and the sound of skin smacking against skin. They lay sweating together as more spasms engulfed them both.


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"Grissom?"

"Yes, dear?"

"I think the wind has changed directions."

"I would suppose the eye has passed somewhere near and now, we're on the back side of Katrina."

"There's so much damage. I wonder how other areas have fared through all of this. What time is it?"

He looked at his watch and replied, yawning, "A little after noon."

"Power's been out for almost two hours. I'm going to get the radio. How long do you think the power will be off?"

"I really don't think it will be for too long." Sara rolled out of the double bed, reaching for her robe. Grissom admired the beautiful expanse of the skin.

“I think the radio is in the kitchen. I’ll go with you. I’m hungry.” He stood and took her in his arms, kissed her, tilted his head back and smiled down into her eyes. “I think I’ll call the lab and talk to Eckley and tell him we probably won’t be in tomorrow night like we’d expected.”

"He won't take that well."

"I don't imagine so."

They walked into the kitchen holding hands, as Grissom dialed the number to the Las Vegas Crime Lab on his cell phone. "I've got no service on this phone. I guess I'll try later." Sara immediately turned on the battery powered radio. Static met all her efforts at finding a station.

Grissom had been opening the pantry door and decided against the canned selections. "We don't know how long the power will be out, we should eat the perishables first." He moved to the refrigerator and grabbed some mayo, cheese and milk. He poured a glass of milk for the two of them and drank his down quickly. Sara laughed at him, giggling loudly. He looked up from spreading the mayo on the wheat bread. "What?" He looked at her, questioningly.

"You really should model for one of those ads." Sara couldn't quit giggling.

"What ad?"

"Those 'got milk' ads, you have a milk moustache." He reached up to clean the milk off of his beard. "No, you look adorable. He was standing nude in the kitchen, with milk coating his upper lip. "I wish I had a camera. I could eat up."

"I believe you did that earlier."

"And you reciprocated." Their eyes bore into the others, Grissom's eye brows rose and a vague confused look passed between them. "What is it?" Sara looked concerned.

"I heard something outside." Grissom rushed into the bedroom, hurriedly pulling on his shoes and pants, not bothering with a shirt. Sara stood in the doorway watching him.

"You're going out, in this?" gesturing toward the outside wind and rain.

"It sounded like someone is out there. Calling for help."

"I'll be right behind you."

"No, Sara, stay. If I need you, I'll signal for your help."

Grissom ran out into the storm and disappeared amongst the large puddles of water, downed trees and limbs. He had been gone for over ten minutes and Sara had already dressed and was close to opening the door to the storm herself, when she saw him struggling to carry something brown, as he climbed over the fallen trees, brushing up against the seemingly endless myriad of limbs jutting up from odd angles. Grissom's salt and pepper curls were plastered against his head, his chest and jeans soaked with pelts of hard stinging rain, wind whipping, straining the remaining standing trees like they were no more than leaves in a gentle breeze. Grissom struggled with whatever he was carrying. Sara thought it was probably an animal, because it appeared too small to be a human. As Grissom approached the house, Sara opened the door for him; the wind unexpectedly gusted and caught the door, slamming it back into Sara's face. When Grissom opened the door and crossed over the eve, he put the small brown dog, a boxer, down onto the floor, he saw Sara crouched holding her nose in both hands, with blood trickling between the web spaces of her fingers.

Sara looked up at him from the floor. His heart lurched. She still had the stitches along the right side of her face from the case in the cave from the Tuesday before. Her eye no longer showed any bruising, but was still somewhat puffy. Now, it looked like she had broken her nose; the blood flowed easily. He bent to his waist and leaned into her. “Do you think Tommy has any tampons?”

Sara laughed, “Maybe, Diane does stay here sometimes. Check the bathroom.”

Grissom left the room and headed toward the master bedroom, with the small boxer trailing close behind him, after the dog had sniffed at Sara’s knees. Grissom came back within a minute’s time, carrying a roll of toilet paper. He sat down beside Sara on the floor, took her in his arms, hugging her close to his body. He let her go slowly and reached for the roll and tore off two sheets, then tore off a hand full.

“Sara, look up.” She raised her head and he dabbled the blood with the toilet paper. As he finished cleaning the blood from her face, he began folding and rolling the sheets into small bullet like shapes. “Sara, I’m going to check to see if your nose is
broken and there may be some discomfort, but I won’t hurt you.” He ran his thumb and forefinger down the length of her nose and then pinched the bridge, with his other hand, he put the small rolls into each nostril. “It’s not broken, just a bloody nose.” He kissed her slowly, gently on the lips.

She looked into his eyes when the kiss ended. “Thanks, you have a very good bed side manner for a doctor.” He smirked and was about to reply when she continued, “Good thing you brought the whole roll of t.p., because you’re going to need it.”

“Why?”

“Your dog just peed on the floor.” Grissom turned, glared at the brown puppy squatting in the middle of the tiled floor.

“Bad dog Bruno.”

“Griss? You named him already?”

“Back when I attended boxing matches to study blood splatter, my favorite boxer was a guy named Bruno Mc Bride. When he took a punch, blood flew all over the canvas. I learned more from the blood from his nose than any other. He’s a boxer,” gesturing to the dog, “and you were bleeding. The name Bruno immediately came to mind.”

“You better go clean up after Bruno then. I like the name, it suits him.” The puppy came running, stumbling towards them and climbed into Sara lap as she began to absently scratch behind his ears. “What’s the story on this little guy anyway?”

“I heard him howling, I couldn’t tell if it was human or animal, but I knew the sound of distress. As I moved through the debris, I kept hearing the sound, but I couldn’t find the source. Finally, I saw him, pulling at the leg of another dog. Seems the tree had missed our Bruno here, but not his mother.”

“Awww, poor baby.” Sara pulled the puppy up to her face, “Do you need a new mommy?” The boxer licked her on the tip of her nose, then tried to pull some of the tissue out of her nose. “Oh no, bad dog. Griss, can we keep him?”

“At least until we find out who he belongs to.” Sara leaned into Gil and kissed him soundly on the lips, as Bruno licked Sara’s neck. Gil laughed at the sight. “I don’t know if I like sharing you with another male.”

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The storm raged on, although the winds were dying down somewhat. Grissom sat on the couch, reading a novel by Tom Robbins. Sara sat at his feet enjoying the dog. She’d fashioned an old sock of Tommy’s into a chew toy by tying several knots into it. Sara’s empty hand rested possessively on Grissom’s thigh. The dog soon lost interest in his new toy and Sara picked him up. She climbed onto the couch, laid her head in Grissom’s lap. Bruno curled himself into a small ball on her chest and soon was sound asleep, as was Sara.

Gil lay the book on the side table and brushed the hair from her eyes. He thought back over the last week. Everything had changed between the two of them. One week ago, he’d been submerged in a high profile murder in Las Vegas, working three shifts without rest. Then the call came in from Lincoln County. Sara driving the two of them to the crime scene; the decomposed body in the cave; the slight cave in that bruised his shoulder and Sara’s face; the clerk in the super center giving him advise on undergarments for Sara; Sara naked on the motel bed; Sara standing in those sexy black thongs; and the two of them finally consuming the carnal aspect of their relationship. If he lived to be 100, Gilbert Grissom knew he’d never forget the sight of Sara sleeping nude on that bed in the motel; that was permanently etched into his brain.

He thought about their journey to Mississippi and the reason they were there. Sara’s mother had died in prison, in prison for murdering Sara’s father. Tommy Delaney was Laura Sidle’s only sibling. They had buried her two days earlier on a Saturday, in the family plot near the small town of Red Mound. Tommy and Laura’s father had originally been born in Mississippi before joining the Marines in World War II and becoming a resident of California after his tour of duty ended.

The funeral had been a solemn affair. Other than Grissom and Sara, Tommy and Diane Westmoreland, Tommy’s girlfriend of more than 15 years, who refused to marry him, because she said it would ruin their relationship, the only other person was the minister who performed the ceremonial words. The sky had been dark that day, the clouds rolling as though being chased by thunder. Sara’s older brother, Timothy hadn’t been able to fly in from Northern California because of the impending storm. After the funeral, the two couples went back to Tommy’s house, drank straight shots of bourbon, and talked well into the night.

He closed his eyes and remembered the first time he met Sara’s uncle, only three days earlier.

Friday, August 26, 2005 11:00 am CST

Sara scanned through the crowd, searching the face of her uncle. She and Gil were seated at a small table in the center of the busy café. She drank the café au lait and toyed with her beignets, Grissom’s voice broke through her consciousness: “But the British were laying siege at the mouth of the Mississippi, when General Jackson was approached by a representative of the pirate, Jean Lafitte….” She stared off across the street, studying the statue of Andrew Jackson which was partially hidden by green shrubbery. “Jackson refused his help, but didn’t know the British were offering Lafitte monetary compensation for a guide through the swamps.”

“Grissom, tell me something I didn’t know.”

Grissom was silent for a few minutes, wondering what to tell her. The noise from the crowded café distracted him from his thoughts, so he watched the waiters and waitress moving in and out, carrying the powdered sugar confections to the many tourists sitting as they were awaiting their piece of authentic New Orleans. He reached for his coffee laced with chicory, looking at Sara’s profile as she watched the crowd. He looked into the main enclosed room, the television was on the weather channel He read the advisory banner running across the bottom of the screen. “Tropical Storm #12 is dumping badly needed rainfall on South Florida and if the strength doesn’t diminish over land, should continue to track into the Gulf of Mexico.

“That’s something we don’t get in Vegas.”

Sara’s attention went to Grissom’s face, a deep look of concern flashed through his expressive blue eyes. When their eyes met, his changed. Sara had seen that look pass between them occasionally, but it had been only in the past two days that she’d learned to interpret what it meant. It was the same look that bore into her soul as they’d made love. His eyes were making love to her as they sat, drinking coffee in the Café du Monde. “What’s that?”

“Tropical Storms, we don’t get them in Las Vegas.”

Sara’s smile broke, she looked at him, lost. “What are you talking about?”

“On the weather channel, Tropical Storm #12 is depositing rain in South Florida.” He pointed to the television anchored to the wall above the rest room signs. She turned and shrugged her shoulders.

“I thought I told you to tell me something I didn’t know.”

“When I was three, I could recite all the words to ‘The Battle of New Orleans’ by Johnny Horton.” He took a bite out of one of the beignets. “These were worth the trip alone. They are delicious.” Sara looked at him with the powdered sugar clinging to his beard along the edge of his lips. She reached across the small table, placed her hand on his cheek.

“Come here.”

Gil leaned across the table into Sara’s kiss. Their kiss was interrupted by, “Girl, you look so much like your momma. And I was worried about recognizing you.” Sara looked up into the startlingly blue eyes of her uncle. “Damn girl, you really look like your momma with that shiner. This boy here,” pointing an angry finger at Grissom, “give you that black eye, cause ifn he did, I’ll take care of his happy ass, right here and now.”

“No Uncle Tommy, he didn’t.” Sara intonation changed. Grissom looked back and forth between the uncle and the niece. There was no family resemblance. “Tommy this is Gilbert Grissom, my boss at the…”

“Whoo, stop right there. You were just locking lips with your boss?” Tommy Delaney’s fists clasped together menacingly staring Grissom down.

“Tommy, stop.” Sara’s hand held him back. “Tommy, this is my lover, Gil Grissom, he’s also my supervisor, my best friend, my mentor, my everything. No, he didn’t hit me and give me this black eye or even this gash down the side of my face. It happened at a crime scene three days ago in Nevada. Griss tried to protect me.” Sara smiled into her uncle’s eyes. A grim satisfaction crossed between the two of them. “You want some of my beignets?”

“Never turned down one yet.” He reached and put an entire square into his mouth. He wiped his hand on the button up western style shirt and reached the same hand to Grissom. “Tommy Delaney, your girlfriend’s uncle. Nice to meet you. Where you from?”

“California.”

“How about that? Three California kids hanging around in New Orleans.”

“You’re not from here? Or Mississippi.”

“No, I escaped the West Coast when I was 20. Whole different world here. I like the pace of the South better, much more laid back. My daddy was from a place about 70 miles north of here. I inherited the land, so I thought I’d come look at it, sell it and head back home, instead I found a home.” Tommy looked at both of them and said, “Ya’ll ready to roll? Where are your bags?” Sara pointed down to the plastic super center bags at their feet. Tommy’s eyes rose upward, “Humph, you still traveling light, I see.”

They walked along Decatur Street, passed the Jax Brewery building as Tommy continued talking to Sara, “I’m sorry Sara bear, about you having come all this way to bury your momma and she ain’t even made it in from ‘Frisco yet.”

“What’s the hold up?”

“Your busy brother was to have signed something to release the body from the State of California, but he didn’t make it and she’s just waiting, somewhere to be released.”

“Timmy wasn’t ever good in stressful situations. He called me twice, after I got your call, but didn’t leave a message.” Grissom watched as Sara’s long fingers ran through her hair. “It’s so hot; I’d forgotten about the humidity.” Sara reached into her purse, pulled along white disposable pen out, she curled her hair up into a knot, pushing the pen through to hold her hair. Grissom was amazed at the sight. Her bare neck called to him, but this wasn’t the time or the place. Sara continued, “When will her body arrive?”

“Should be tomorrow or the next day.” Grissom nodded as did Sara. “Going to fly here on United and the funeral home will send somebody to pick her up, then we can have the funeral probably on Saturday or Sunday. Timmy’s flight is scheduled to arrive Saturday afternoon at 4:00 pm.”

“So why did you want me here today? I could have waited until Saturday, too.” They had made their way to a 1979 Ford 150 truck.

“Throw your stuff in behind the seat.” Tommy took the driver’s seat and Sara took the middle and Grissom closed the door beside him. As the truck pulled into the busy street, Grissom watched the crowd of people walking in both directions of the street. He looked at the almost foreign architecture, reminding him slightly of Paris. This was such an old city as compared to Las Vegas. In Vegas, everything was bright, new, improved, flashy and brown; New Orleans was old, dirty, dark and green. The two cities were both known for their party atmosphere, even New Orleans sported a ‘Harrah’s” casino, but New Orleans was so different.

“…because you needed to and you know it.” Grissom’s attention returned to the man in the driver’s seat. 5’6”, slim, with a slight curved pot belly, early 50’s, light blue eyes, moustache, slightly balding, dark sun kissed skin of someone who spends a good deal of time outside. He would have never considered the man a close relative of Sara’s, there was no family resemblance at all. But he was her maternal uncle. She’d told him some of her family history on the flight from Las Vegas to New Orleans, some things he’d not known about her life before they’d met. Not that he knew that much about her life after they’d met either, but he was going to make amends, everyday for the rest of his life.

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Laura and Thomas Delaney were born in San Diego, their father Joseph, had met and married their mother, Jane who was a native Californian, after he’d retired from the military service. Joseph had gotten a good job at an oil refinery and provided for his kids and wife. Once a year, he left the family for a month and went home to Mississippi. The family never went with him, nor was there any discussion as to why they were never allowed to go with him. He died in 1960 of a heart attack. His children were 18 and 16.

Laura, the oldest,became a wild child, Tommy, staid and true. Laura experimented with drugs and at 20 had a child out of wedlock. She honestly didn’t know who the boy’s natural father was, because there had been so many men, so many drugs. Several years passed, Laura didn’t even notice that her mother had died and her brother had moved to another state. She met a young drummer for the band, ‘The Cookies’, named Bill Sidle. He loved sex, drugs and rock and roll, in that order. When the band didn’t succeed as others of the age did, he decided to marry the nymph Laura, buy a little bed and breakfast that needed refurbishing, adopt the nymph’s son as his own and make a few babies of their own. The lovely Laura gave up the booze, the drugs and worked hard at getting pregnant. The first child miscarried, and she picked her bad habits up quickly to compensate for her loss.

Bill’s little bed and breakfast never really took off, and he started to self medicate with cocaine. Somehow in the midst of all this chaos Sara was born. Things continued to spiral downhill between the drugs, alcohol, and sexual orgies. Bill began to hit Laura when he realized it was all her fault that his band broke up, the B&B had failed, and all their money was gone. By the time Sara was 4 years old, she believed the staff at the hospital were all part of her family. At 5, her mother left her and her brother with Tommy for a year. She just showed up and took them back to California, to begin the same life they’d left behind. By the time she was 10, her brother had left home to avoid the abuse. At 12, the abuse was so bad, she was thinking of leaving. 13, her mother killed her father in a drunken rage.

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Gil Grissom awoke with a start. Something was wet on his leg. Looking down, Sara was no longer in his lap, but the small boxer puppy was and had used Grissom’s leg in much the same manner and he’d earlier used the tiled floor.

“Sara, honey?” He called into the darkness. Her face haloed by a candle appeared around the corner from the kitchen.

“Yes, master?”

“Do I have anything clean to put on, Bruno here thought I was the bathroom.”

Sara laughed. “Yeah, I got some in the dryer. Be right back.”

Grissom got up and went into the kitchen, thinking the dog might be as hungry as he was. Sara had lit several candles on the counter, lighting the room with an elegant mood setting atmosphere. Setting on the counter were two plates filled with corn, peas, and mashed potatoes and gravy. A glass of iced sweetened tea beaded with moisture was beside each plate. “Bruno, looks like one of us gets to eat with Sara. The other is out of luck.”

Sara came into the kitchen holding a pair of black pants of his and a pair of boxers in one hand and a black shirt in the other. “Want to put these on? You can’t shower, the water isn’t running, but with the water in the tubs, you could clean off at least.”

“I guess I’ll eat something first. Do we have anything for the pooch here?”

“I’ll find him something.”

Grissom sat at the counter and quickly devoured the plate of vegetables. Sara had found a can of ravioli in the pantry and poured it into a small bowl. As Sara, sat down, she saw a flash of light through the window. A loud knock came on the outside door. Sara and Gil both moved to the front door and opened it. A tall young uniformed man stood before them.

“You people with the Vegas PD? The crime lab?”

“Yes.” They answered in unison.

“You gotta come with me, I with the Sheriff’s Department and Mr. Tommy told us, you folks were here. My aunt is Mr. Tommy’s girlfriend. We need some help shifting through the debris on the coast to find any survivors who might still be alive.”

“Can we change clothes first?” Grissom was still bare chested and bare footed, with a urine stain on his blue jean clad thigh.

“Sure. You guys got something I can eat? I haven’t eaten in hours.”

Sara nodded toward her food on the table, “It’s not much, but you can have whatever you can find.”

“Thanks.”

“My uncle is Tommy, so we’re almost cousin-in-laws, call me Sara.”

“I’m Bubba.”

Grissom returned to the kitchen dressed all in black. Bubba was finishing up Sara’s dinner. Sara grabbed the boxer into her arms. “Sara, leave him here.”

“There’s nobody to feed him and he’s not housebroken and we don’t know when we’ll be back. He’s coming with us.”

”Okay, let’s go.”

Csicsicsicsicsicsicsicsicsi

End Part II


A/N: Part III should be posted in about a month. I’m really a slow writer. As always my thanks go to Bo for the inspiration on all matters sexual. Big kiss you know where, babe.

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