Missing

Chapter 12

To my great relief, she hugged me back.

I couldn't say how long we stood there, clutching each other. But by the time Sara pulled back a little, the sky outside the window was dark. The moonlight made her face look softer, sweeter than I'd ever remembered it looking.

"You're not supposed to be here," she whispered, leaning forward to hug me again. "You can't be here."

I just held her tighter. She smelled like Sara, and I breathed in slowly, my nose in her hair.

"I'm serious," she said finally, letting go and stepping back. "You need to go."

There was a knock on the door, and Peter stuck his head in. "Dinner's ready. Gil, I set a place for you."

"No, he's not-"

"Great, thanks, I'm starving." Ignoring Sara's protests, I grabbed her hand and led her out into the kitchen. The small table was set, and a big bowl of spaghetti sat in the center.

"Gil's leaving right after dinner," she announced to Peter, squeezing my hand more tightly.

"Sure he is." Peter grabbed a plate of bread off the counter. "Eat, everyone, it'll get cold."

I served a huge helping of pasta onto my plate, along with a big hunk of bread. Suddenly, I was ravenous.

"When was the last time you ate?" Sara asked, looking concerned.

"This morning, I guess."

"Well, oatmeal and fruit should have held you over better. Maybe you should add some eggs, or-"

"I didn't have oatmeal," I told her, shoveling a large forkful of spaghetti into my mouth. "I had pancakes."

She dropped her fork. "Pancakes?"

"Mm-hmm. Chocolate chip pancakes, with maple syrup."

Her eyes widened indignantly. "You didn't."

"I did."

"Grissom!"

"They were so good, too."

Peter was watching us, looking amused as he served himself some salad.

"You're not supposed to have that much sugar," she said accusingly. "It's not good for you."

"Oh, you're totally right," I nodded. "I guess I should've had your breakfast instead. Was it eight Hershey bars, or nine?"

Peter let out a snort at Sara's stunned expression, and I took the opportunity to scarf down some more pasta.

"So Gil," Peter said, buttering his bread. "Tell me about yourself."

"What would you like to know?"

"Well, all Sara here would tell me is that she loves you and you're cursed, or something. So I didn't get too much background."

Sara still hadn't served herself any food, so I put some salad and pasta on her plate, raising my eyebrow at her until she began to eat.

"I, uh... well, I live in Las Vegas, with Sara. We got engaged about a month ago-"

"Engaged!" Peter looked at Sara in surprise. "You didn't tell me that! Congratulations!"

"Thanks," I nodded. "We work in the crime lab together. I've known Sara since she was in San Francisco, actually. I was giving a seminar, and she took the class-"

"A seminar!" Peter looked at Sara again. "How neat!"

"Knock it off," she mumbled. I could tell she was trying not to smile.

"Sorry, inside joke," he said, grinning at me. "Our mom used to do that, when she was trying to cheer one of us up."

"Oh."

"Sorry, I interrupted you. Where are you from originally?"

"Southern California."

"Great area."

"Yeah." I twirled some spaghetti around my fork. "What about you, what do you do?"

Apparently, it was the wrong question to ask. Sara got up quickly and walked out of the room.

"Oh, Christ, not this again." Peter threw his napkin down and marched after her. Popping a big bite of bread in my mouth, I followed.

She was sitting on the living room couch, her arms folded as she stared out the window.

"More window-watching?" Peter asked, sounding exasperated. "I thought we were moving past that."

"I ruined everything." She was shaking her head, tears slipping down her cheeks.

I stood next to Peter, bewildered. "What's going on?"

"She thinks she's cursed me to live a horrible life." He gave a short laugh. "Maybe I should get to be the judge of whether my life is horrible, Sara, how about that?"

"You wanted to be a detective." She hugged herself harder, looking lost. "Ever since you were a little kid, you wanted to be a detective, and you can't. Because of me."

"Yeah, because you poured the beers down my throat and forced me to drive you to the beach, right? Ever occur to you that maybe what happened was my own fault?"

The old basset hound wandered into the room, plopping down in the middle of the rug and going back to sleep.

"All I know is, you had big plans," she sniffled. "And now-"

"And now I'm a huge disappointment," he finished, rolling his eyes at me. "You know what I do for a living, Gil? I help save the whales. I work for a nonprofit group that raises money to relocate beached or stranded whales."

"That's wonderful," I said.

"Yeah, I know. And it leaves me feeling like I've made a difference at the end of the day. And if I hadn't gone to prison, I wouldn't have ever gotten involved with it in the first place. I took a couple of marine biology classes there, and the rest, they say, is history."

"You see, Sara?" I moved closer to the couch tentatively. "Peter's not cursed. He's living a fulfilling life. He's happy."

"And my father?"

Peter and I shared a look, and he nodded, disappearing back into the kitchen.

"Your father made a lot of mistakes, and he died because of them. Not because of you." I sat down next to her, careful not to touch her.

She was trembling. "And you?"

"And me." I sighed. "Well, I've got to agree with you on that one."

"You do?" She turned to look at me, a tear hanging off the tip of her nose. "You think you're cursed?"

"Well, I was."

"Was?"

"Sure." I wiped her nose gently, and she didn't flinch. "You don't get to be fifty years old and never have loved anyone in your life, unless you're cursed."

She frowned, confused. "Oh."

"But the curse was broken," I said, smiling a little. "So you see? You saved me."

"How?"

I reached my arm out, and after a moment of hesitation, she slipped into my embrace. I leaned back on the couch, savoring the feeling of having her in my arms again.

"Let's just say there was a No Girls Allowed sign on my heart. And you helped change it to say No Girls Allowed, except Sara."

She started, then let out a short laugh. "You talked to Terry."

"I did."

"I told him not to say anything."

"Yeah, well. I'm a persuasive guy."

She nestled herself against me. "People don't do well when they're close to me, Gil."

"Really? Because I didn't do well until I was close to you."

Peter poked his head into the room, grinning when he saw us. Then he left again.

"I'm sorry," she whispered finally. "I just... I was so scared and confused."

"I know."

"I thought I was protecting you."

"I know." I kissed the top of her head. "Will you come home?"

"I don't know." She was crying again. "What if something bad happens to you?"

"Then we'll deal with it together."

"Do, um..." She sniffled. "Do you hate me for leaving?"

"No, of course not. Just like you won't hate me for how I punched Nick. You see, we're-"

"You punched Nick?"

"The point is-"

"Is he okay?"

"Ssh, we're forgiving each other, let it go."

She rubbed my chest lightly. "I'm such a mess."

"Yeah, but you're beautiful, so it evens out." I squeezed her tighter, and she sighed.

"Dr. Grant's going to have a field day with this one. I made the Garden Shed Incident look like child's play."

I was combing my hair when Peter came into the room, looking mischievous.

"Hey, Gil."

I put down the comb. "What did you do?"

"Nothing." He sat down, still grinning.

"Peter..."

"Gil... Nice outfit, by the way."

I wrinkled my nose, looking back at myself in the mirror. Never liked tuxedos. Especially the bow ties.

"I gave it to her!" Terry opened the door, bounding into the room. "She's so mad!"

The men high-fived each other, laughing.

"Please tell me you didn't just upset Sara on her wedding day," I sighed.

Peter just laughed again, going to the closet to get out his suit.

"Pete thought of it," Terry said, coming over to the mirror to straighten his tie. "He gets total credit."

"Credit for what?"

"We gave her an early wedding present," Peter grinned. "A bag of good luck charms. You know, something old, something new... something borrowed, something blue... plus some extras."

"Extras?"

Peter glanced at Terry. "Yeah... four-leaf clovers-"

"Horseshoes-"

"Rabbit's feet-"

"New pennies-"

"Silver dollars-"

"Three wishbone halves-"

"I get the picture." I pinched the bridge of my nose. "How mad is she?"

Terry shrugged. "She took the bag and clocked me over the head with it. Got a lump, wanna see?"

"No, thanks."

Peter did, though. He peered at Terry's head as I picked up my cell phone and dialed Sara's number.

She picked up quickly. "Are those two idiots with you?"

"Yes, dear."

"They're never going to let this go, are they?"

"No, dear."

She heaved a sigh. "Oh well. You ready to marry a complete basketcase?"

I smiled. "Can't wait." After hanging up the phone, I turned to Peter and Terry. "You guys ready?"

"Yes, dear," they chorused.

"Okay." I straightened my bow tie once last time, and left the room. On the way out the door, I knocked on the wooden table. Couldn't hurt.

The End