Title: Racing Roaches
Rating: Anyone
Spoilers: Through Grissom's last ep, whatever that was.
Author's Note: I have no idea where this story came from. It's what happens when I'm tired, over-stressed, and going out of my mind.


"I can't believe you're calling in a favor for roaches," Sara said, amused. "Especially not a Zebra roach."

"They're great for racing," he replied, distracted by the latch he was currently closing on the cage. As he dropped the final latch of the plastic encasement, he murmured, "It's okay, buddy. You'll be in a box with air holes in it for the trip."

Rolling her eyes, Sara grinned and sauntered back into their tent. The last five months had been something of a honeymoon for the unwed couple. Their common pursuits of knowledge and research had done more to strengthen the friendship they'd built. And somewhere along the way, Gil had turned into a romantic.

Every night, he left a wild orchid on her pillow. Then he would follow her into the tent and they'd close the flaps against the outside world. For a few brief hours after the sun had set, it would be only them; although, sometimes Shakespeare or Wordsworth would accompany them to bed. Often, he would read by lantern until they slowly moved against one another, pulling unnecessary shirts and shorts off to find skin against skin.

Sighing out a long breath, Sara realized how much she would miss this place. Yet she looked forward to moving onto their next endeavor. What she was calling The Great Trip.

"Part of me doesn't want to go," Gil said, walking up behind her and placing his hands on Sara's hips.

Leaning back into his chest, she turned her head a little and said, "I know."

"We can stay," he offered. She knew him. To stay would mean to keep him away from other pursuits, and she wasn't willing to do that. The offer, while he would keep it, would disappoint him if kept. For a few months, he'd received multiple requests asking for his help. Some wanted him to teach, while others wanted his assistance as a forensic entomologist.

Turning in his arms, she wrapped her own around his neck and smiled against the patch of skin under his ear. The beard rubbed against her lips and she replied, "No. We'll come back, or maybe go on another expedition, but we're done here."

She let him simply hold her for awhile and inhaled the masculine scent of salt and sweat. Letting him go, she walked over and picked up her duffel and backpack. As he did the same, she gave him a genuine smile. She was ready, and it was time. A push of adrenaline shot through her at the thought of what lay ahead and she said, "Our home awaits."

"Then lead on, my dear," he said, grinning as he slung his sole bag across his back. "The Eurycotis Decipiens will catch up with us in a few weeks."

"So long as you remember our deal. They stay in the basement, or they get turned into dog food," Sara joked.

When he huffed a laugh, she rolled her eyes in his general direction. As they walked side-by-side down the trail towards the docks, he glanced in her direction and said, "And just so you know – Hank knows the difference between a racing cockroach and an everyday cockroach."

Quirking her brow, curiosity swamped her and she had to ask. "How?"

She had to stop in her tracks at his answer, though, when he grinned and replied, "My racing cockroaches get stuck in his teeth."