Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.

Author's Notes: It's been so long since I did this, but it still feels so good:) I've missed this world, these characters, this love story. Thanks for stopping by to read my stuff after all this time. I appreciate it so much. Enjoy!

Oh, and thanks to Lisa, without whose three hour early play-by-play this never would have been accomplished;)

Croissant et Conversation

by Kristen Elizabeth

Grissom woke to the scent of coffee, croissants and his wife's shampoo.

His wife. Would it always send a thrill down his spine to call Sara that, or would he eventually get used to it after years of domesticity?

Cracking open an eye, he caught a glimpse of Sara setting a tray down onto the empty side of the bed. Not only had she gotten up early and run to the bakery at the end of the street, but she'd paired the croissants she'd bought there with his favorite red currant jelly, the one she hated.

His wife wanted something. Something she seemed to think she'd have to coax out of him. Although Grissom was inclined to give her pretty much anything she wanted without question, this was going to be oddly fun.

Sitting up carefully as to avoid upsetting the breakfast tray, Grissom yawned. "Bonjour, ma petite femme."

"You're allowed to practice your French, Gil," Sara said as she broke apart a croissant and slathered jelly on it. "But if you call me your little anything again, I will make you sleep in l'autre salle." She handed him the croissant and clarified, "The other room."

He smiled as he took it from her. "Your French is getting better than mine."

"That's probably because I spend a lot of time walking around the neighborhood. I mean..." Sara lifted her shoulder innocently as she spread butter on her half of the flaky pastry. "It's not like I have much else to do."

Grissom swallowed back guilt along with his first bite. His career had taken them out of the jungle and into the heart of Paris. He had uprooted Sara from a place she loved and a job she was passionate about and planted her in the middle of a city where she barely knew the language and had nothing to do with her time and energy.

For better or for worse, she'd told him when the opportunity to guest lecture at the Sorbonne had presented itself. And as far as "worse" goes, you can do worse than a year in Paris.

Before he could wallow any further in regret, Sara temporarily absolved him with a quiet, "I know, baby. That'll change soon." A moment passed as they sipped their coffee. "I got a call from Ecklie last night," she announced without fanfare.

Grissom swallowed his coffee wrong and was wracked with a sudden cough. "Ecklie?" he asked once he'd recovered. "What did he want?"

"To apologize for never sending his congratulations on our wedding."

"I wasn't holding my breath waiting for that."

Sara smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "He also mentioned that Catherine's shift is down one." At Grissom's worried look, she quickly added, "The girl, Riley...she quit."

"That's a shame." He took another bite. "She was good."

"I thought you said she had a sharp tongue," Sara teased.

"I like women with sharp tongues."

At this, Sara couldn't help but give him a real smile. "You've got a silver tongue, Dr. Grissom."

Grissom set his coffee aside. "Come here and I'll aquaint you with it, Mrs. Grissom."

Although she looked tempted, Sara stayed on her side of the bed, adjusting her position only enough to face him straight on. "Gil. Ecklie wasn't just giving me lab gossip."

"No," Grissom agreed after a few seconds of silence. "I wouldn't have thought so."

"He asked me..." She hesitated before giving in with a sigh. "You have to know what he wanted without me having to say it."

"Let me guess. I asked the same thing of you ten years ago."

Sara inclined her chin. "But I'm pretty sure Ecklie's invitation doesn't carry any hidden romantic agenda."

"And mine did?"

His wife blinked. "It did. Didn't it?"

Leaning forward, Grissom touched her cheek. "Of course it did. Even if it took me five years to realize it." She narrowed her eyes at him in mock annoyance, her lips twisting into a smirk that made him stiffen beneath the covers. He cleared his throat. "You want to go, don't you?"

"I don't want to leave you," she told him. "But...yeah. I do." Sara suddenly grasped his hand, bringing it down from her cheek as she threaded her fingers through his. "I like Paris. And I love being in Paris with you. But I'm bored, Gil. All I do is go to the market, walk through the Louvre, sit by the river...I'm a foreign movie cliche!"

"I know you're not as happy here as you were in the jungle, but as soon as the grant comes through..."

"It's only a few weeks," Sara cut in. "Just until they can find someone new."

"You know...I think I told your supervisor in San Francisco the same thing." When her shoulders sagged, he swore softly under his breath. "Honey, I'm sorry. Of course you should go. I'm being selfish."

Sara shook her head. "I don't mind that you don't want to put an ocean between us." She looked down at the ring on her left hand. "Maybe I'm just not cut out to be a wife."

"Why would you say that?"

"Don't wives want to be where their husbands are? Don't wives...I don't know...bake croissants instead of buying them?"

Grissom chuckled in spite of himself. "When have I ever expected you to bake anything for me?"

"What about being where you are?"

"We spent almost a year apart, Sara." He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. "We can survive a couple of weeks."

Sara nodded slowly. "So...you're not worried that I'll suddenly find Greg Sanders irresistibly charming and decide to settle down and raise a family with him in Henderson?"

"Not any more than you should be worried that I'll fall for a French woman who shares my love of red currant jelly. Besides..." He settled his hands on her slender waist. "You've already started a family with me."

"Are you worried about that?" she asked.

"Well, have you taken it into consideration? There's toxic chemicals in the lab, not to mention potentially dangerous situations in the field and..."

She stopped him with a kiss. "I know the risks. But we're only seven weeks into this party. I've already cleared it with one of the doctors at the university. I'm perfectly healthy and fit for both travel and work." Sara took his hand and placed it on her still-flat belly. "And so is Jean-Luc."

"Sara, we are not naming him Jean-Luc. I don't care how many episodes of Star Trek you make me watch."

"He was conceived in Paris, Gil. He needs a French name."

"What if 'he' turns out to be a 'she'?"

Sara thought for a moment. "Jean-Luisa?"

Seconds later, Sara was on her back, laughing, as Grissom hovered over her, unashamed of his nude body and the open window that looked out over the cobblestone streets. It was Paris, after all. He was married to the most amazing woman he'd ever met. And in seven months, he was going to be a father.

Who cared about modesty or a couple of weeks apart when he had all of this in his life? It wasn't going anywhere. In fact, there would be more of a threat to this happiness if he tried to keep Sara tied down in Paris than if he he wished her well on her way to Vegas.

"I am going to miss you, honey," he said between kisses.

Sara scrunched up her nose. "You taste like red currants." Before he could roll away, she grasped his shoulders, holding him in place as she kissed him back, deeper and harder. "I'll miss you, too. Don't imagine for a second that I won't."

Their coffee cooled as they made love with the quick passion that only came from knowing each others bodies as well as they knew their own. When they finally broke apart, struggling for breath, Sara shook her head head against the pillows.

"Forget everything I said," she panted. "I don't think I can go without that, even for just a few weeks."

"Maybe I can escape the university for a weekend while you're there." Grissom turned his head to smile at her. "Say hi to everyone. Show off my wedding ring. Make sure Greg isn't house-hunting in Henderson."

Sara shifted on her side, propping her head up in her hand. "I'm sure they'd love to see you. If Nick's emails are any indication, they miss us just as much as we miss them. If not more. They all wanted to come to the wedding, you know."

"I would have enjoyed seeing Catherine sweat through the jungle to get to that waterfall," Grissom mused. He stopped Sara's laughter with a kiss. "Promise you'll take care of yourself, Sara."

"C'mon. What could possibly happen to me in Vegas that hasn't already happened?"

Grissom stared at her. "And you're tempting fate why?"

"I thought you didn't believe in fate," Sara smirked.

"I don't remember ever denying or confirming the idea of it." Grissom shrugged. "Was I destined to give a lecture in San Francisco all those years ago? Were you meant to take it? Was Holly Gribbs destined to die and were you always supposed to come to Vegas?" He looked at her. "Was I meant to fall in love with you from the first moment I saw you?"

"All right, we have got to get out of Paris," Sara said as she sat up. "Now you're turning into a movie cliche." She kissed him before sliding out of bed. "Are you going to help me find the best deal on my plane ticket?"

He reached for her hand, stopping her before she could even reach for her robe. "I was serious, Sara. Please be careful."

Sara sank back down onto the edge of the bed and put a cool palm on either side of his face. "I will be. I promise. Jean-Luc and I will come back to you without a scratch."

"Sara, I swear..."

"Not in front of Jean-Luc, you don't." Before he could catch her, she was on her feet, wrapping her robe around her bare body. With a wink, she grabbed a cold croissant and headed for her laptop.

Grissom lingered in bed for a few minutes before dragging himself up. If he was going to lose Sara for weeks, he wasn't about to waste any time with her now. He'd already wasted too much of it.

They finished breakfast on the balcony, in the fresh French air, with a view of the Eiffel Tower in the far distance as they searched for the best deal on an open-ended ticket to Las Vegas.

Fin