Fandom: CSI Rating: PG-13 Pairing: GSR Summary: Another serial killer strikes Las Vegas--but this one has a twist.   Disclaimer: Most of the characters and situations in this story belong to Alliance Atlantis, CBS, Anthony Zuicker and other entities, and I do not have permission to borrow them. No infringement is intended in any way, and this story is not for profit. All others belong to me, and if you want to borrow them, you have to ask me first.  Any errors are mine, all mine, no you can't have any. Spoilers: through "Bull"   Note: this story includes the non-graphic deaths of children.   Finally!  A short chapter, but if it's any consolation the next one will most likely be fatter--and is already partly written.  As always, huge thanks to Cincoflex and Laura27md for their help and encouragement!          ********* The coffee shop was full of morning customers, but Sara considered that an advantage; it was harder to overhear a conversation in the buzz of many voices than in a quieter room.  She sipped her latte and waited, watching the tidily capped paper cup on the other side of the table vent a curl of steam.  Working with Ronnie had let her memorize the young woman’s choice in coffee.    The CSI slid into the seat opposite before the steam ceased, and Sara smiled at her and shoved over the little bag holding a muffin.  “Morning.”    Ronnie looked dismayed.  “You didn’t have to buy me breakfast...”    Sara gave her half a glare, and Ronnie subsided, picking up her cup or a careful sip.  “Umm.  Thanks for meeting me.”    “What’s up?” Sara asked, curious as to the purpose behind Ronnie’s summoning phone call.  “Has something new happened with the case?”    “Not with the case exactly.”  Ronnie took out the muffin and stripped off the paper with quick fingers.  “I guess they haven’t figured out that I was keeping you up to date, huh?”    Sara smiled, turning her cup idly round and round on the table.  “It didn’t come up, somehow.”    Ronnie grinned back, all but sparkling.  “Well, thanks--anyway--Detective Vartann had me sit in on his follow-up interrogation of Hannah West.”  She sobered.  “That girl is creepy.”    “Tell me about it,” Sara murmured, remembering mad, furious eyes.    Ronnie’s nose wrinkled.  “She’s got a big-name lawyer, and she’s already planning on pleading not guilty by reason of mental disease, but you probably guessed that.”    “Yeah.”  The news surprised Sara not at all.  She knew Hannah; the defense was the only logical one, and might even be true.    Still, with eight dead children, she’s not going to get off lightly.  For one thing, they’ll probably try her as an adult.    “The thing is...”  Ronnie hesitated, looking distressed.  “She claims you’re the reason she turned into a serial killer.”    Sara blinked.  “In a twisted way, I kind of am...but I have a feeling that that’s not quite what you mean.”      Ronnie shifted uncomfortably.  “She says that you’ve been spying on her and that’s why she went crazy and started killing those kids.  I know it’s not true,” she added hastily.  “We all know that.  But it’s like...she’s really, um, persuasive.  Detective Vartann was saying that people might, well, believe her.  A little.”    Sara sat straight, cold anger mixing with equally cold reason.  I know just which people, too.  The press, for starters, would run with the idea if they got hold of it, whether it was true or not.  And defense attorneys--every time I take the stand someone’s going to bring it up--    The entire idea left a very sour taste in her mouth, one that a gulp of coffee did not rinse away.  Gil would have some pithy quote about appearances.  But it’s his ass on the line, too.    “Probably,” she said finally, and Ronnie stared unhappily down at her muffin wrapper.    “Sara, I don’t know what I can do about this.  There’s even a couple of people on Dayshift saying that they wouldn’t be surprised if you did stalk her.”    Sara snorted.  “That’s Dayshift.  Ronnie, I appreciate you letting me know, but this isn’t your problem.”  She shrugged.  “People can say what they want.  I didn’t stalk her, and they can’t prove that I did.”    Ronnie took a deep breath, and managed a smile.  “Yeah, okay.”  She dabbed at a crumb with her napkin.  “It just pisses me off, you know?”    Sara sat back, a small dry amusement making her lips curve.  “Believe me, it pisses me off too.  But arguing won’t help.  Just let it go, and eventually it’ll blow over.”    Ronnie nodded, and took another bite of muffin.  Sara drank more coffee, glad that Ronnie couldn’t read her well enough to know that she was nowhere near as confident as she sounded.    Be honest.  You don’t exactly have the best track record when it comes to behavior at the lab, she thought.  An unofficial DUI, a traumatic injury, a rule-breaking relationship and a six-month leave of absence don’t quite add up to “stable” in the eyes of management.    The trouble was, so much of law enforcement work depended on appearances.  No one was perfect, but CSIs and police tended to be held to impossible standards.  And while they’d all fallen short from time to time, the night shift crew had escaped serious consequences for the most part.    I don’t know if I’ll be that lucky this time.    Sara took her time on the drive home, thinking hard about their situation.  What she did, or didn’t do, would affect Grissom, as inextricably linked as they were.  That was almost the most infuriating aspect--she could take whatever was dished out, Sara thought, but to have it spill over onto Gil was just about unbearable.  This could destroy his career.  I never wanted that to happen--    She would sacrifice her own, Sara realized, if it would save his.  I’ve never been as invested in as Gil, anyway.  Forensics may be my passion, but it’s his calling--the shape of his life.  And lately...  She thought back over her leave of absence, the feelings that had prompted it, the conclusions she’d drawn.  Her career had been fulfilling for a long time, but people did change, and she’d been considering change before she’d even left Las Vegas so abruptly.    Maybe it’s time to think about it again.    Sara paused at a light and signaled for a turn, frowning at the stoplight.  The only way to keep him completely out of this is to leave him.  And that’s just not an option.  Never mind that it was the last thing she wanted to do; Grissom had suffered enough when she’d taken her leave of absence.  It would break both of us.    Resigning seemed to be the best option, though she hated to do it; it felt like giving in to the pressure.  But it’ll be a dirty fight no matter what I do, she thought as she drove into their garage.  Maybe...maybe I should just not play their game.    It was all moot until she talked to Grissom anyway.  Sara shut off the engine and climbed out of her car, not eager to deliver her news to her lover, to see the worry crease his brows and weigh him down.  Dammit, why couldn’t Hannah have just been a nice normal little genius with a nice normal family?  Why did she have to get obsessed over me?    Steeling herself to tell Grissom, Sara walked into the house, but he didn’t answer her call.  A note waited for her on the breakfast bar, a quick few words.  I need to think, so I went for a walk.  Should be home soon.  Love you.    Feeling slightly let down, Sara nevertheless smiled at the casual, precious last line, kicked off her shoes, and went to find her seed catalog.        She’d worked her way through vegetables and into flowering shrubs, and the catalog was bristling with sticky notes on the margins, when the front door opened to admit Grissom.  He was wearing shorts, which Sara found just adorable whenever he did it, and he looked flushed and slightly sweaty.   In other words, delicious.   Sara grinned at him from her spot on the couch and considered just dropping what she held and pouncing him, but his return smile, though genuine, was small and distracted.  She set the catalog aside all the same, rising to go give him a kiss that spoke more of love than lust and to surreptitiously inhale the enticing warm scent of him, pheromones all stirred up by his walk in the sun.  “What’s up, Doc?”   Grissom gave her a look of mock betrayal, and kept her within the circle of his arms when she would have stepped away.  Sara let her hands rest on his shoulders and waited.   One of the many things he’d taught her had been patience, after all.   “I don’t want to go back,” he said abruptly, rushing the words slightly, then blinked at her as if surprised that he’d vocalized his thoughts.   Shock made Sara blink back at him, but she didn’t move.  “The lab, you mean?” she asked, even though she was pretty sure that she understood him correctly.   He sighed, letting out sorrow rather than relief.  “Yeah.”   His eyes were slightly wary--not because he feared her anger, Sara realized, but because he feared her disappointment.  She cocked her head a little, genuinely curious, and aware of a small welling of, oddly enough, hope.  “Why?”   Grissom screwed up his mouth, obviously searching for words, then gave her a gentle nudge towards the couch.  “I’m not quite sure I can explain.”    They sat down, and Sara took his hands in hers, cradling the strong fingers.  “I’m listening.”   He sighed again.  “It--the lab--well, they did everything right.  They followed procedure, the same way you did.”  Grissom frowned down at their hands.  “But...this isn’t something that will die down.  Someone will always remember that I was arrested for murder, and that will affect how they interact with me and with the lab.”   A surge of guilt under Sara’s breastbone was forestalled by his squeeze of her hands and stern look.  “Stop it,” he said fondly, which made her snicker despite herself.  He knows me too well.   “Go on,” she told him, settling deeper into the couch.   Grissom said nothing for a moment, and she guessed he was organizing his thoughts.  “We were going to give it a year, remember?”  He pursed his lips.  “I don’t think I need that much time.  Sometimes it’s wise to stop before there’s nothing left.”   Sara opened her mouth to disagree, then closed it again.  Between his leave of absence, Natalie Davis, her leave of absence, and Hannah's shenanigans, his weariness made a lot of sense.   "What would you do?" she asked at last, in part to give herself a little time to think.   Grissom chuckled.  "What wouldn't I do, sweetheart?  Read.  Write.  Get back into roach racing.  Make you dinner every evening...”    She couldn’t help smiling.  “Charming as that vision is, you’d get bored pretty fast,” Sara countered.    He cocked his head.  “I’m not sure I would.  And even if I did, there are plenty of options open to me.”    Grissom was right, she knew.  His expertise and knowledge would open many doors if he bothered to knock on them.    Wait a minute.  Why am I thinking up objections?    “That’s true,” she acknowledged.  “Gil...I’m thinking of quitting too.”    It was his turn to look astonished.  “Are they forcing you out?” he asked, brows drawing down.    Sara shook her head quickly.  “No--at least, not yet.  But with Hannah blaming me for what she did, my rep’s not in the best shape right now, and--well--“  Realization firmed her tone.  “--I’m fed up.  The Sheriff should have welcomed you back with open arms, and you know as well as I do that this whole...thing is going to come up every time either one of us takes the stand.”    Grissom gave her the slow, sideways nod he used when he didn’t like the answer he was agreeing with.  “All too true.”  He looked thoughtful.  “You could find a job at another lab.”    It was the most logical step, but it actually didn’t appeal.  Sara turned the idea over in her mind.  Maybe I’m tired too.    “I’ve been thinking about going back for my PhD,” she said slowly.  Grissom’s sudden brilliant smile almost startled her.    “They’re always looking for good minds at Brookhaven,” he replied, and in any other man it would have been a tease, but Sara knew he meant it.  Me, at one of the world’s premier nuclear physics labs...  She shook her head, smiling.    “You really want to move to New York?” she asked wryly.     Grissom shrugged.  “Home is where you are,” he answered, freeing one hand to stroke her cheek.  “But...Sara, are you sure?  I’m coming up on retirement age anyway, but you--”    She shook her head firmly, feeling more certain with every passing minute.  “Gil, I love the puzzles, and I love helping people, but forensics was never the center of my life.  It made a decent substitute for a while, but...now I have something better.”    The tips of Grissom’s ears turned pink, and Sara grinned at him.  She knew her decision was impulsive, but impulse had worked for her before.  For instance, moving to Las Vegas--  “You said, give it a year, and if we’re not happy we should quit.  Well, neither of us is happy with the way things are right now, and that’s not going to change any time soon.  Why wait that long?”    “All right.”  Grissom nodded slowly.  “Let’s sleep on it, both of us, and tomorrow we can...take the next step.  Whatever it is.”    “Good.”  Sara leaned forward and kissed him with an enthusiasm he didn’t hesitate to return, but he lifted a quizzical eyebrow when she released him.    “Not that I don’t appreciate it, but what brought that on?”    Her grin turned wicked.  “We have almost twelve hours before it’s time to sleep.  Got any better ideas to while away the time?”    He cocked his head again, then returned her smirk.  “Nope.”          It was easier than Sara anticipated to get their friends together all at the same time.  With the closure of the serial killer case, Greg had been returned to the night shift, and they all came crowding in after work--Brass pulling off his tie, Nick and Warrick complaining genially about a new prosecutor, and Greg holding the door for Catherine with a smile and a teasing wink.    Sara handed out coffee while Grissom flipped pancakes, and she got hugs from the boys and exchanged a wary, polite nod with Catherine as the visitors settled around the dining room table.  Brass watched the interplay with knowing eyes, and pulled out Sara’s chair for her before Grissom could.    The conversation was brisk and cheerful, with many requests to pass bacon or butter or the orange juice carafe, but there was an underlying feeling of waiting.  And, typically, it was Catherine who was the first to ask, though she waited until most of the pancakes were gone.  “So what’s the reason for inviting us to the inner sanctum?”    Grissom gave her an innocent look, but Catherine didn’t smile back, and Sara saw him make the decision not to tease his old friend.  “Astute as ever, Catherine.  Sara and I have an announcement to make.”    “A wedding date, finally?” Warrick asked, idly drawing lines in his leftover syrup with the tines of his fork.    “Not exactly,” Sara answered, glancing from face to face.  Nick’s was alight with interest, Warrick’s smiling gently, Catherine’s still closed and Brass frowning.  Only Greg’s face held realization, and there was as much sorrow there as pleasure.    Grissom folded his hands and rested them on the table, just shy of his plate.  “Sara and I are both resigning from the lab.”    Nick sat up straight.  “What the hell?  You’re not gonna fight?”    Warrick frowned deeply, and Catherine huffed.  “Gil, don’t tell me you’re going to let politics drag you down--”    Brass opened his mouth, but before he could say anything Greg spoke up.  “Hey.  Guys.  Let him talk.”    His quiet command had an effect, and the others hushed, though not without a glare from Catherine.  Grissom nodded in appreciation and continued.  “This wasn’t an easy decision, but given the situation we decided that it would be the best thing for both of us.”    His voice was easy, but Sara could see that his hands were clasped too tightly.  There was nothing easy about telling their friends; nothing at all.  She slid her hand over his thigh below the table, and saw those clenched thumbs relax a little.    “We’re both tired,” she added.  “The...situation...at work is going to have repercussions for a long time, and they’ll be ugly.”    Nick shook his head.  “Sara, we know you didn’t do anything wrong.  And we’ll all stand behind you, no matter what, you know that.”  He glanced around, gathering nods from his colleagues, and then looked back hopefully.    Sara swallowed the lump in her throat and smiled back.  “Believe me, I appreciate it.”    “I thought they’d have to drag you out kicking and screaming,” Catherine said abruptly, addressing Grissom.  “Are you really willing to give up your career--hell, your life--for something that’ll die down eventually?”    Her tone was harsh, but Sara could see the pain underneath.  Catherine didn’t want to lose her oldest friend.    “I have a life, Catherine,” Grissom said simply.  “It’s changing, that’s all.”    She snorted, and he smiled a little, which made her mouth twitch.  Years of tease and argument were embedded in that exchange, Sara knew, distilled down to a silent shorthand.    “I dunno, guys,” Warrick said.  “I can see where you’re coming from, but doesn’t this just let the West chick win?”    It was a valid question, and one that Sara and Grissom had discussed the previous afternoon, eating fruit and crackers naked in bed.  Grissom spoke now, laying out the same conclusion.    “Her goal was to destroy Sara through me.  She didn’t succeed, but she did manage to accelerate some of our plans.”  Grissom shrugged.  “Between the damage to our reputations and lab politics...”    Sara took up the thread.  “We’re not going to play their game,” she finished.  “Not the politicians’, and not Hannah’s.”    Brass nodded, cradling a coffee cup in both hands.  “That’s smart,” he agreed.  “You might not lose, but you can’t win in a situation like this.”    A little silence fell as his comment was considered; no one wanted to admit that it was true, but they knew it was.  Nick and Catherine both looked rebellious, but Sara knew they would need time to get used to the idea.  It wasn’t going to be easy to leave; in fact, it’s going to hurt like hell.    But it’s time.    Greg broke the stillness, pitching his voice drolly.  “So what are you going to do with all your free time?”    Grissom glanced over at Sara, a question in his face, and she let the corner of her mouth curl up.  “Answer Warrick’s question,” Grissom replied, equally drolly, and Sara nearly laughed at the puzzlement on everyone’s face.  “Are you all free next Saturday for a wedding?”    Chapter 1     Chapter 2     Chapter 3    Chapter 4    Chapter 5    Chapter 6     Chapter 7     Chapter 8     Chapter 9     Chapter 10   Chapter 11     Chapter 12     Chapter 13     Chapter 14     Chapter 15     Chapter 16     Chapter 17     Chapter 18     Epilogue CSI Home Feedback