Fandom: CSI Rating: R Pairing: G/S Summary: A sequel to Rollercoaster, which really should be read first. Disclaimer: Some 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.  Others strongly resemble characters that sort of belong to ABC, though I seriously doubt anyone cares at this point.  The rest belong to me, and if you want to play with them, you have to ask me first.  No infringement is intended in any way, and this story is not for profit.  Any errors are mine, all mine, no you can't have any.   Spoilers: general fifth season through "Unbearable" Note: This is an AU futurefic that includes a number of original characters.      ********* “Aunt Sara!” The thud of small feet on her staircase broke Sara’s concentration, and she swung around in her chair with a grin as the door to her room opened and her nephew burst in. He was wearing a brand-new cowboy hat, but it fell off as she rose and scooped him up for a hug. “Geez, Joseph, you’re getting heavy!” She set him down after a good squeeze. “Did you have a good time at Grams’ and Gramps’?” “You gotta see my truck!” Joseph caught her hand and started towing her towards the stairs, and Sara laughed and let him do it. As he stopped to get his hat, Kimmy appeared in the doorway, and Sara let Joey go to collect a hug from her niece. As they accompanied her down the stairs, chattering a mile a minute about their cousins, the plane trip, and the presents they’d received, Sara couldn’t stop grinning. The townhouse had been so empty when she’d returned from California, and her loneliness at leaving Grissom had been redoubled by its silence. Now, however, the sound level was well on its way back to its proper level. Back on the main floor, Sara knelt to admire the substantial Tonka dump truck that was Joseph’s crowning glory this year; it was almost large enough for him to ride. As he showed her all the controls, Ed came lumbering up from the garage, laden with suitcases. “Hey, a little help here?” he called. “How much sugar did you give them?” Sara asked over the chattering as all three of them came over to relieve him of some of the weight. Ed rolled his eyes. “Blame their grandmother. I thought the lunches she packed for the plane had cookies, but they had fudge.” He shook his head in mock disgust as they carried the cases up to the bedrooms. “It’s a good thing that the high didn’t really hit until we actually got off the plane.” Sara laughed and followed him into the master bedroom, which was more of a disaster area than usual; she’d never known a time when Ed could pack neatly. It was fairly masculine in tone, three years after Jenny’s death, but the focal point of the room was still the big painting over the bed--Ed, sound asleep in an armchair, cradling an equally asleep toddler Kimmy. The love Jenny had put into each brushstroke was palpable. Ed set down the bags with a sigh, and held out his arms. “Hey, Merry Christmas.” She returned his warm hug. “I missed you guys.” “We missed you too. Everybody asked about you.” Ed let her go, but cocked his head to regard her for a moment. Sara raised her brows. “What?” “Did you have a good time in L.A.?” Her jaw dropped. “How’d you know?” Ed snickered. “Oh please. Just because I’m oblivious most of the time doesn’t mean I don’t pay attention once in a while. You’ve got a little sunburn, and a look like a cat with an entire dairy full of cream. Which you wouldn’t get from just a phone call to your boyfriend.” Sara stared at him, and he rolled his eyes. “Okay. You also left the stub from your plane ticket on the hall table.” Sara started laughing, and swatted at him, but he ducked. “Hey, watch it, or I’ll give you a noogie when you least expect it.” Ed started towards the door, but Sara put a hand on his arm, feeling a little shy. “Hey, Ed…thanks. It was good advice.” He glanced back, and gave her one of his quirky small smiles. “’Bout time,” he repeated. Fortunately for the adults’ sanity, the sugar high wore off fairly quickly, buffered by dinner. The remaining presents were opened, and the drowsy kids were packed off to bed; Sara sent her brother along soon after when he started snoring in front of the TV. And in the end it was just her, sitting alone in the warm living room, enjoying the twinkle of the tree’s colored lights and the sense that the house was back the way it should be. And the voice on her phone. “I miss you,” was the first thing Grissom said when he answered her call. His voice was wistful, and Sara grinned at her mental image of him, back in the guest apartment in his mother’s building. “We just saw each other yesterday,” she teased lightly, though she knew it had been hard for him, letting her go at the airport. It had been hard for her, too, and she’d actually had to smear away a tear as she passed through the security checkpoint, sternly choking back any more. “Doesn’t matter,” he answered. “Sara…I can hardly believe the last few days were real.” “They were,” she assured him. “And you’ll be, uh, back in a few days too.” “I wish I could have come with you.” He sighed. “Hey, you promised Rosalie you’d take her to see The Lady’s Not for Burning. She told me twice how much she was looking forward to it.” “True.” Humor warmed Grissom’s voice. “And between the two of us, Susan and I are going to try to talk her into looking at a different care facility. Did everyone get back safely?” Sara let him change the subject; for all that Grissom had told her what was going on, she knew he wasn’t comfortable discussing it. “Yeah, loot in tow. They’re all in bed now.” They chatted for a while, a little shy somehow. Sara kept remembering the last couple of days; on the twenty-seventh Grissom had driven Sara and Rosalie up into the hills to a winery for a tasting and a picnic, and on the twenty-eighth, yesterday, he had taken her to the airport so she could fly home. They hadn’t had any real time together by themselves. Sara hadn’t let that bother her too much, though she had seen Grissom’s hidden impatience now and then. After all, he would be coming back to Virginia soon. They would have time. “I’ll take you out to dinner when I pick you up on Friday,” she promised. He chuckled. “I can hardly wait. Ah…how’s your neck?” Sara couldn’t help lifting a hand to her throat, even though the red tinge to her skin had faded. “It’s fine now.” “I really am sorry,” Grissom said, but Sara snickered. Beard burn was something she hadn’t experienced in a long time. “Yeah, sure you are. It’s all gone, except for the memories.” He made a chuffing sound. “I’ll admit to a small thrill of atavistic pleasure in seeing it,” he admitted. “Shut up or I’ll bite you somewhere obvious,” Sara threatened, grinning. “Wherever you like,” Grissom offered back, and she choked on a giggle. The flirting was twice as fun now that they were actually together. It had been Saturday night that their kissing had gotten a little out of hand, and at the time Grissom’s mouth on her skin had been quite pleasurable. But the next day had made her glad that she’d packed a turtleneck. “I may hold you to that.” Sara tilted her head back and pretended that Grissom was just across the room instead of the country. He laughed, and for a moment they were silent, simply enjoying each other despite the distance between them. But the stillness was broken by a tremulous voice. “Aunt Sara?” Sara sat up and looked behind her. Kimmy stood on the bottom stair, half-enveloped in a long purple unicorn nightgown, her face drawn. “Hold on a sec, Gil,” Sara said, and tilted the phone away from her mouth. “What’s wrong, kiddo? Nightmare?” Kimmy nodded, wrapping her arms around her torso, and Sara nodded back. Kimmy’s night horrors, legacy of her mother’s death, were not something Sara took lightly; she knew too much about such things herself. “Gil, I’m sorry--” “I heard,” he broke in gently. “Go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow night.” She sighed. “Thanks. Sleep well.” “You too,” he said, and was gone with a click. Sara shut her own phone and pushed up off the couch, then set it aside so she could walk over to the stairs and hold out a hand to her niece. “C’mere.” It was the best treatment for the nightmares. Sara knew very well that if it had been an ordinary bad dream, Kimmy would merely have turned on the overhead light and read until she was sleepy again; the worse versions came infrequently, but required sterner measures to be beaten back. Sara, who had again and again wished that there were someone who would hold her after one of her nightmares, enveloped Kimmy in a strong hug as the young girl launched herself into her aunt. When Kimmy’s shudders had tapered off, Sara planted a kiss on the crown of the dark head, noting with an odd pang that she didn’t have to bend as far as she used to. “Let’s go make some cocoa.” They heated milk to make the hot drink the old-fashioned way; Jenny had scorned instant cocoa, and Sara had to admit that the homemade kind did taste better. Kimmy dug out the small battery-powered frother and Sara shut the kitchen door to keep the sound from traveling up the stairs; Joey slept like the proverbial log, but Ed was a light sleeper. And with a conspiratorial grin, Sara found a can of leftover whipped cream in the fridge; a quick taste proved that it was still good, and the two of them used it lavishly. They sat quietly for a while at the breakfast bar, growing chocolate mustaches, until Sara broke the silence. “Do you want to tell me about it?” Kimmy shrugged, a rather forlorn movement. “It’s one of the ones I kinda can’t explain.” Sara nodded. Some dreams had images that would be innocuous to any observer; it was the emotions and fears accompanying them that made them terrifying. She observed her niece under cover of another sip of cocoa. Kimmy, going on twelve, was beginning the growth surge towards adolescence; her face was less round than it had been just six months before, and her fingers were longer. Sara wondered how Ed was going to cope with his daughter growing up. He’s not the only one who’ll have to cope, she reminded herself. You’re still in loco parentis around here…emphasis on the “loco”. But it was a problem for later. Kimmy put down the big mug and turned it absently on the counter, staring at it as though her fortune could be read in the dregs. “It was a lot of things,” she said finally. “Mostly the nuclear snow thing. But Mom was there too, and she was dead even though she didn’t look like it.” Kimmy’s shoulders hunched. “She was screaming,” she added miserably. Sara held back a shudder of her own, and rose to go out to the living room. She came back with a photo from one of the bookshelves, Ed and Jenny together, Ed sticking out his tongue at the camera and Jenny laughing. Sara set the frame down flat on the counter in front of Kimmy and put her arm around the girl. “There she is,” she said softly, knowing that the best way to banish the dream-image was to confront it with reality. Kimmy sighed a little, and leaned against Sara. “I still miss her.” “You always will, a little,” Sara agreed. Kimmy nodded. After a moment, she spoke again. “You’re going to leave us, aren’t you? Go back to Las Vegas with Doctor G.” Sara quailed, though there was no anger in Kimmy’s tone. “Sweetie, I don’t know. We haven’t talked about it yet.” It was a subject that she wasn’t ready to broach, for one thing. We’ve only just-- “It’s okay,” Kimmy said, and yawned. “I like Doctor G, he’s nice.” “I think so too,” Sara replied, relieved that her niece didn’t want to get into a discussion just now. “Hey, finish your cocoa and I’ll go upstairs with you.” “Okay.” The fact that Kimmy didn’t protest told Sara that the nightmare had faded enough to let Kimmy go back to sleep. Sara followed her up the stairs and sat on Kimmy’s desk chair for the last part of the ritual--reading out loud until Kimmy was asleep again. When the girl’s breathing evened out into sleep, Sara closed the book and thought for a while in the silence. What are we going to do? Grissom sat on the same flat boulder that he and Sara had chosen a week before, and stared out across the water. The sun had long set, and the stars were out; the air was still and chilly, and he was gratefully for his thick sweater...not least because it still smelled faintly of Sara. Rosalie was long since in bed; Grissom, unable to sleep, had left the guest room and walked down to the beach to listen to the quiet hiss of the tiny waves and brood. His mother’s condition wasn’t far advanced yet, and she had finally agreed to choose among an array of facilities that were more nursing homes than retirement complexes. It was the culmination of a campaign that had begun in early summer, when the doctor had diagnosed her. It was a relief, to have the agreement...and Susan will see that she sticks to it...but it was a bitter one. Grissom sighed, and scrabbled up a small chunk of stone from the boulder to toss in the water. It made a low plunking noise, though he could barely see the splash. He hadn’t wanted Sara to find out. Idiot, he chided himself. You couldn’t have kept it from her forever. Besides, you asked her to come out here. Yet somehow he’d believed, foolishly, that Rosalie’s condition would not manifest itself in Sara’s presence. And Sara herself had not drawn away, merely asked him for a little more information and offered him comfort he could barely bring himself to take. I guess I’m just not used to it yet. As they always did, his thoughts drifted to Sara exclusively, though instead of melancholy or hope they were now tinged with an incredulous joy; and even in his brooding his lips turned up. I don’t deserve her; I never did. But by all that’s holy, I intend to keep her. For a little while he daydreamed, ignoring practicalities in favor of the vision of returning to Las Vegas with her by his side; to her walking into the lab to see him, and their friends’ astonishment when they realized that she was his beloved at last. He dreamed again letting her into his--their--house, of watching her raise the shades, blow dust off the shelves, and distribute her lizard collection around the bedroom. We could turn the second bedroom into an office for her, he thought. The closet’s full of boxes, but they could go in the garage. It would leave no place for Ed and the kids to stay when they visited, of course, but his house wasn’t up to three guests anyway. There are lots of nice hotels off the Strip, and plenty to do that children would enjoy. And Vegas was within a day’s drive of Los Angeles, or a short plane ride. What if she wants to stay in Virginia? the pragmatic part of his mind pointed out coolly. She’s got a career there, and a family, and a far more exciting life than she would have back in Nevada. There was no question. If she wants to stay, we stay. He could retire early, or just find another job, though the consulting was working very well so far. He would be sorry to leave his team and his friends, but Sara was far dearer to him. If only I had figured that out years ago. Sara leaned against the wall across from the first baggage carousel, watching people crowd around it as it chugged to life, and pretended that she wasn’t wound tight with anticipation of seeing Grissom again. One thing about being tall--it’s easier to spot people in a crowd. Passengers came out from behind the security checkpoint in clusters, some hurrying off, others slowing to greet people waiting for them. Reactions ranged from cordial handshakes to hugs and tears; Sara watched a small child scoot across the floor to be snatched up into a grandmother’s arms, followed by the happy, if frazzled, young parents, and snickered as she imagined Ed and his offspring arriving in Atlanta. The meeting had been much the same, she was sure. Then she saw him, moving through the checkpoint behind a gaggle of military servicepeople in fatigues, his rocking stride distinctive. Sara couldn’t help comparing this time to last August; his shoulders were no longer bowed, and while he looked a little tired, defeat had no part in it. And this time, she had no qualms at all about hugging him. Grissom spotted her as she stepped away from the wall, and smiled in delight. As she neared, he set down his computer bag and pulled her into his arms, his mouth covering hers in a kiss tender enough to make her throat ache. “You look stunning,” he murmured in her ear, and Sara laughed. “It’s just my work clothes,” she teased, enjoying the way he fit in her arms. Grissom shook his head slightly, and kissed her again, a quick press, before letting her go. “It’s not the clothes, it’s you.” Sara felt the flush heating her ears, and scooped up his bag before he could bend for it. He took it away from her with a look that was both stern and amused, and they walked over to the appropriate baggage carousel to wait for his suitcase. It was so odd, Sara mused, to be standing in the circle of Grissom’s arm while they waited; to lean a little into his shoulder and to feel his thumb rubbing absently against her hip as they people-watched idly. It had been years since she’d been in a serious relationship, and she honestly couldn’t remember a time when she had felt so comfortable with a man. Maybe it’s because we already knew each other for so long. Maybe it’s just because it’s him. She took him to the same French restaurant they had visited his first night in Virginia; it being Friday night, the place was busy. Sara exchanged kisses with Erik, the proprietor, and soothed his apologies over not having a free table by pointing out that she and Grissom were early for their reservation. “We’ll wait in the bar,” she told him. Grissom put a hand on her arm as she turned towards the bar. “I need to use the restroom,” he told her. “I’ll join you in a minute.” “Sure. Here, give me that.” Sara took his computer case and headed into the bar as he walked off in the opposite direction. The bar was a hollow square of polished wood, overshadowed by ranks of glasses hanging from racks, and was moderately crowded, but there were two free spaces on the far side. Sara took one tall stool and balanced the case on the other, ordering a Scotch for Grissom and a soda with lime for herself; she would have wine with dinner. She was just unwinding the scarf from her neck when a familiar voice spoke beside her. “Hello, Sara.” Slightly startled, Sara turned to see Frank Delladesmonde standing beside the empty stool. She grinned up at him. “Hey, Frank. I didn’t know you knew about this place.” “I come here for business sometimes.” He smiled. “You know, I was trying to reach you before Christmas, but your brother said you were busy.” Sara blinked, and made a mental note to discuss call screening with Ed. “Yeah, I was, kind of. Major case at work.” He put his hands in his pockets, still smiling. “I wanted to ask you over for Christmas dinner.” Sara pursed her lips, suddenly realizing that the gentle flirtation that Delladesmonde had been wont to use with her was no longer really appropriate. She had been willing to flirt back in the past, and she was genuinely fond of Petra, but she’d never been moved to go any further than the casual friendship they shared…rather to Delladesmonde’s disappointment. “Actually, I was out of town, but it was kind of you to think of me,” she said easily. He nodded, rocking a little on the balls of his feet. “Sara, I was wondering--“ “Sorry to keep you waiting,” Grissom said lightly behind her, and bent to press a quick kiss on Sara’s cheek. Delladesmonde straightened, and as she had a month before, Sara could all but smell the sudden testosterone in the air. She was torn between annoyance and amusement. It wasn’t often that Grissom’s competitive nature came out, and it was always interesting to see. On the other hand, she’d seen Delladesmonde playing volleyball at church picnics, and he didn’t take losing well. “Doctor Grissom,” he said in a cool voice. Grissom gave him an equally cool look back, but fortunately for Sara’s temper, did nothing so obvious as touch her. “Good to see you again.” “How’s the epiphany going?” Delladesmonde asked, politely enough, but Sara’s humor fled. He’d better not be stupid about this. She could sense Grissom going stiff beside her, but his answer was cordial. “Quite well, thank you. I’m very grateful.” Not wanting Delladesmonde to dig himself any deeper, Sara took Grissom’s hand--not a subtle move, but she really didn’t want things to degenerate. “Gil just got back from the West Coast, so we decided to stop here for dinner.” She looked up at the other man, her smile polite. “How’s Petra doing?” Delladesmonde’s gaze focused on their joined hands for a long moment, then flicked up to her face, and she was a little taken aback at the sadness in his eyes. “She’s well,” he answered. “She got all As on her last report card. Ah…excuse me.” With a nod, he turned and walked away, back around the corner of the bar. Sara winced a little. Beside her, Grissom blew out a breath, and let her hand go to set his bag on the floor and take the stool. His expression was grave, and Sara set her elbows on the bar and regarded him. “Thanks for not…” She didn’t quite know how to express herself without sounding silly or insulting, but Grissom seemed to know what she meant; one corner of his mouth twitched up. “If there’s one thing that age has taught me, it’s that ladies have little patience with men fighting over them. And rightfully so.” Sara grinned a little. “Yeah, the knights-and-tournaments thing gets kind of old after a while.” She nodded her thanks to the bartender as the woman set their drinks in front of them. Grissom picked his up and sipped thoughtfully. His expression was still slightly melancholic, and Sara touched his knee. “What’s the matter?” He shrugged a little. “I can just sympathize with him, that’s all,” he said softly. Biting back her initial impulse to point out that the situations were quite different, Sara thought for a moment. In a sense, Grissom had lost her three years before, and more thoroughly than her casual relationship with Delladesmonde would ever permit with the younger man. But… She picked up her drink and gave him a puckish look. “Believe me, there’s not a man on the planet who could turf you out now,” she told him, keeping her tone light but meaning every word. The slow, sweet smile she got was a wonderful reward.    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    Chapter 19    Chapter 20     Chapter 21    Chapter 22     Chapter 23     Chapter 24     Chapter 25     Chapter 26     Chapter 27     Chapter 28     Chapter 29    Chapter 30     Chapter 31     Chapter 32     Chapter 33      Chapter 34     Chapter 35     Chapter 36     Chapter 37     Chapter 38 Chapter 39     Chapter 40 CSI Home Feedback