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.      ********* It took Grissom a few seconds to recognize his environment when he opened his eyes--not because it was so unfamiliar, but because he’d never seen it at quite that angle. Sara’s poster of the Periodic Table was almost abstract art, viewed at a ninety-degree angle. He blinked blearily at it, registering slowly that while earlier he had been wrapped around someone delightfully soft and sweet-smelling, she was now gone. Instead, he found, he was clutching the large pink lizard that Gracie had given Sara for her birthday. He returned its cockeyed look and set it aside, sitting up slowly. The cottony feeling in his head was par for the course, and he let the mild dizziness pass off and reality settle in. The migraines that had come perhaps one per year had become more frequent after Sara’s departure from Las Vegas, and he hadn’t needed a doctor to tell him that stress was the cause; but he hadn’t had a single one since moving to Virginia, until the evening before. He and Sara had been sitting together on the couch, his hand twined happily with hers, as they talked with Ed, and between one breath and the next the wavy lines that warned of pain had appeared in his vision. He’d taken his drugs, and tried to get Sara to call him a cab, but then the pain had hit, and he’d found himself bundled firmly upstairs and into her bed. He couldn’t remember much more than that, and was grateful. No, there was a blurry recollection, more sense than sight, of something warm and soft under his cheek, and the faint tickle of someone breathing into his hair. It had been immensely comforting. Now, though, it was Sunday morning--early, judging by the January-dawn light coming in the skylights--and there was no sign of Sara. Grissom stood, carefully, and took stock. His belt and shoes were gone, though he couldn’t recall their removal, but he was still fully clothed. On reflection, he decided, he was grateful for that as well. He’d often fantasized about disrobing in front of Sara, but--I’d prefer to be in control of the process, thank you. Folded neatly over one of Sara’s chairs, obviously meant for him, was a bath towel, a t-shirt, and what appeared to be a pair of Ed’s sweatpants. Grissom gathered them up and headed down the stairs for the family bathroom on the third floor. He smelled coffee as he padded along the hallway, and was tempted to find Sara, but the alternate sweats and chills of his migraine had left him feeling sticky, so he slipped into the shower instead. The master bedroom had its own bath, but this one was clearly the kids’ province--it had a Sesame Street shower curtain, cartoon-character toothbrushes, and brightly colored bottles of kiddie shampoo and soap. Mixed in with them, rather to Grissom’s relief, was Sara’s more staid brands; he didn’t mind smelling of her apple shampoo, given the circumstances, but he drew the line at “Screaming Blue Berry”. He was used to the Sidle place now, and when he’d finished drying off and had pulled on the borrowed clothing--and it was a good thing that Ed had sweatpants, given their difference in sizes--Grissom rummaged in the cabinet under the sink for the spare toothbrushes he knew were there, and unwrapped one for his use. There was no comb--Sara kept hers in her room--but he figured it didn’t much matter at the moment. She always smiled when she saw him with rumpled hair, anyway. The coffee scent lured him downstairs, and he heard voices murmuring in the kitchen as he approached. “Relax, Ed,” Sara was saying, sounding just a trace annoyed. The siblings looked up as Grissom came in; both of them were dressed, if as casually as Grissom himself, and both held the big mugs they favored for caffeine ingestion. Sara’s face softened as she saw him, and she came over to press a brief kiss on his lips. “How’re you feeling?” Given that Ed was right there, Grissom didn’t make more of the kiss. “I’m fine.” He accepted a fresh mug from Ed’s hands with a nod of thanks. “Am I interrupting something?” To his astonishment, Ed blushed--something he’d never seen the scientist do. Sara snorted. “Not really. Ed here is concerned about appearances.” That wasn’t hard to figure out, even with a trace of fog still clouding his brain. Grissom added sugar to his coffee. “To wit, my spending the night in your room?” Ed’s blush deepened. “It’s none of my business,” he said hastily. “It’s just--the kids--“ His sister sighed. “Ed, stop it. I understand. This is your house, it’s not a problem.” Ed’s palpable embarrassment was mildly funny, but Grissom kept his face straight. It was indeed Ed’s house, and his children. He had the right to make such a rule. The fact that the issue had never come up before Grissom’s arrival was a small smug pleasure that Grissom kept to himself. “Absolutely,” he said sincerely, and Ed blew out a breath, and nodded gratefully. “My main reason for putting Gil in my room anyway was so I could keep an eye on him,” Sara went on. “But if you want, I can go mess up the guest room bed.” Ed rolled his eyes, his blush subsiding. “Nah, it’s cool.” He added more coffee to his cup. Grissom glanced at the clock. It was only six-thirty; church was at ten-thirty, and he was hungry. “How about I go home to change clothes, and then take you all out to breakfast before church?” Sara grinned, and slipped an arm around him. “I’ve got a better idea--let’s run your clothes through the wash, and that way you don’t have to go anywhere. It’ll take about the same amount of time.” He arched a brow at Ed, who shrugged cheerful acceptance. “All right,” Grissom said, pulling Sara a little closer. “That sounds fine.” He had just turned on the washing machine on the townhouse’s first floor when Sara found him again, and gave him a much more private kiss. Feeling at ease, Grissom picked her up and set her on the dryer; this put her head slightly above his, but that didn’t trouble him. He braced his hands on either side of her hips, and she lifted her own to run her fingers through his still-damp hair. “It really doesn’t bother you?” she asked. Grissom looked up at her, content. “Nope. If and when we do become intimate, there’s plenty of privacy to be had at my place. And it does save explanations.” Sara tilted his head up gently and regarded him for a moment, then leaned down to press her mouth against the tender skin in front of his ear. “There’s no ‘if’ about it,” she murmured in a tone that put his entire body on alert. That’s an invitation if I’ve ever heard one. Grissom accepted, pulling her closer and turning his head until he could capture her lips with his. Sara made a tiny moaning sound that made his pulse speed up a fraction more, and they spent the next several minutes in delighted mutual exploration, breaking off only when the sound of Joseph’s voice floated down the stairs. Sara laughed breathlessly against Grissom’s cheek. “You know, I could just get a place of my own.” You could move in with me. Grissom bit back the words. He had nothing to offer her in Virginia but an anonymous hotel room, and while his townhouse had plenty of room for two, it was half a country away. And it wasn’t quite the right moment to suggest that they find someplace here for the two of them. We haven’t sorted things out enough. Instead, he rubbed his cheek gently against hers, careful not to scrape her with his beard. “You’d probably be over here most of the time anyway,” he pointed out. She sighed, and straightened. “True.” She looked exceptionally lovely to his eyes, despite the oversized flannel shirt and worn leggings she wore; her hair was enticingly tousled, her eyes were bright, and her lips were reddened from his attentions. “Well, it’s a problem for later.” She shoved lightly at his shoulders, and when he straightened, twisted gracefully past him to jump down on the floor, faster than he could grab her to lift her down. “Right now, I’m going to go take a shower and braid Kimmy’s hair.” She reached up to tap him playfully on the nose. “See you in a few.” Grissom watched her run upstairs, and listened as an abrupt squeal from Joseph hinted at a surprise tickle attack from his aunt, and deliberately set aside the problem of housing and the two of them. As Sara said, it was a problem for another day. And in the meantime, he wanted more coffee. He headed for the stairs. I should have realized. Dumb, dumb, dumb. Sara kept her frown internal as she slid into the pew next to her family. But the question never really came up. Grissom didn’t usually accompany the Sidles to church, and he certainly hadn’t since the New Year; but after breakfast he had come along without any discussion. And Sara had somehow forgotten his little male display with Frank Delladesmonde. And just my luck, Frank and Petra are here today. She could see them on the other side of the sanctuary, further forward and already seated. If Grissom had spotted his would-be rival, there was no hint of it on the side of his face that she could see, and there was no new tension in the arm he had placed along the back of the pew behind her shoulders as they waited for the processional to begin. Oh well. Sara lifted her chin. Frank will just have to get used to the idea. No time like the present. For some reason, she remembered Greg just then, his grinning face still inhabiting the lab that was no longer his domain. He’d called just the week before, and they’d had a good gossip, talking around the subject of Grissom. He’s going to be kind of pissed when he finds out we’re together, Sara thought as the organ started and she paged forward to the correct hymn. But…I think he’ll be pleased, when he gets over it. When the service was over, and the congregation moving slowly towards the exits, Sara saw Petra start in her direction. But Delladesmonde touched his daughter’s shoulder and said something, and the two of them slipped out and away. He had very carefully not looked in Sara’s direction, and she bit her lip. “You didn’t encourage him,” Ed said in her ear, startling her a little. “It’s not your fault.” She blew out a breath. “I know,” she muttered. On her other side, her fingers were enveloped in Grissom’s warm grip. When she glanced over, she saw only sympathy in his eyes--both for her, and for Delladesmonde. This is why I love this man. She squeezed his hand, and smiled. Grissom lifted his kit out of the back of his car and headed for the warehouse, enjoying the fragile warmth. It was nowhere near spring yet, but temperatures had climbed above freezing for a couple of days. He was looking forward to the challenge of the two corpses waiting for him on the warehouse’s main floor; he was getting more expert with Eastern seaboard insects now, after years of studying Midwest varieties. Challenge keeps the mind supple. He showed his ID to the agent at the perimeter--this crime scene was federal, rather than local--and headed for the building, which was just one of a row of identical barnlike structures, looking rather grim and forlorn without their expected weekday bustle. As he had the one time previously he was hired to work on a Bureau case, Grissom wondered idly whether Sara would be at the crime scene. Rather to his surprise, though, this time she was. As he entered the building and took off his sunglasses, he heard her distinctive cadence off to his left, and was able to spot her slim height talking to an even taller, thinner man. The temptation to walk in her direction was nearly irresistible, but Grissom made for the corpses instead, noting as he neared them that they were laid out as though they had been executed. There were plenty of insects, and he ignored the stench as he pulled on gloves and flipped open his kit. He soon became absorbed in the harvesting, but not so much that he wasn’t aware of the sharp click of heels moving towards him. As they halted nearby, he smiled at the fine specimen wiggling in the grip of his forceps. “Special Agent Sidle.” “Doctor Grissom,” Sara returned, her voice rich with amusement. “Nice to see you again.” Grissom dropped the bug in a jar and screwed the lid on. “The pleasure is all mine.” He glanced up at her, gaze traveling along her long legs to the hem of her jacket and the bulge of her holster, all the way to her smiling face. “What’s the story?” Sara shrugged, tossing her hair out of her face and crouching smoothly beside him. “The locals did a routine investigation when someone reported the smell, and one bright cop realized that the warehouse belonged to someone on our Most Wanted list. So we got pulled in to an almost untouched crime scene.” She jerked a thumb at the tall man. “Toby says he’s going to make sure the kid gets a gold star for it.” “That’s your boss?” Grissom looked again at the man, reassessing. “Yup.” Sara smirked a little. “Not the most brilliant boss I’ve ever had, but a pretty cool guy.” Grissom shot her a dry look, and her smile widened; pretending reluctance, he smiled back, and returned to his work. “What am I doing here, anyway?” he asked. “You said you had an entomologist on staff.” “Maternity leave,” Sara said. “She’s due in about three weeks, and as she says, there’s no way she’s going to bend over at this point.” Grissom chuckled. “I can see how that might be a problem.” He sealed another specimen away. Sara nodded. “I’ll see you later.” She straightened and walked briskly away, giving no hint of anything other than a professional demeanor. Grissom approved. Their relationship had no bearing on the case before them, but it also had no place there. As he went on gathering insects, a small voice in the back of his head asked him why the hell he’d worried about Sara’s behavior in the workplace back in Vegas. He squashed it. The work absorbed him. When he had collected sufficient specimens, Grissom rose, his knees protesting slightly, and stripped off his gloves. Sara wasn’t in sight at the moment, but Toby Washington was talking on a cellphone not too far away. Grissom packed up his kit and walked over to Sara’s boss. Washington shut off his phone as Grissom approached. “Doctor Grissom, thanks for coming to our aid at the last minute.” He held out a hand. Grissom shook it briefly. “Glad to be of service. I take it you want me to do the timeline in your lab?” “Absolutely.” Washington gave him an affable smile. “We prefer to retain control of the evidence when we can. In fact, I’m going to send an agent back with you, if you don’t mind.” “Not at all.” It made sense that the Bureau would want to monitor the chain of evidence. Washington cocked his head, eyes sharpening. “So you’re Sidle’s S.O.” Grissom blinked, both at the acronym and the personal comment. “Yes.” Washington regarded him for a few seconds longer, and then grinned widely as Grissom said nothing more. “Whatever you’re doing, keep it up,” he said sotto voce. “You’re the first person to get her to take a real vacation.” He gave a casual salute and strode off, leaving Grissom mildly baffled in his wake. The lab the Bureau lent him was in Sara’s building, and was shabbier than he was used to in Vegas, but the latter didn’t surprise Grissom. A mid-level federal department probably got a lot less funding, proportionally, than his own record-breaking county lab. High solve rates and new techniques brought in grants and new equipment, while the overworked Bureau staff probably didn’t have time to try any innovations or fill out paperwork for extra funding. But all the supplies he needed were in place, and that was what mattered. The work went smoothly. Grissom double-checked details and measured larvae happily, finally awarding himself a break for the restroom and a possible cup of coffee. He found both, and in addition found Sara in his lab when he returned to it. “Hey,” she said, straightening from her examination of his work. “Checking up on me?” Grissom teased, and then grimaced as he took his first sip of coffee. “That stuff’s worse than the Vegas lab’s ever was,” Sara commented wryly, leaning against the table. “I think they mix in the ashes from incinerated evidence. I was just wondering if the guest scientist will have time for dinner later.” “I think so,” he said, after a judicious second sip made him wonder if she wasn’t joking about the ashes. “This really is awful.” “Told ya.” Sara pushed away from the table and walked past him to the door, close enough that he could catch the scent of her hair. “Call me when you’re ready.” She took him to a tiny Italian restaurant only a short subway ride away from her building, and enjoyed something fabulous with eggplant while Grissom ate lasagna and looked blissful. To Sara, it felt weirdly right; as though this spending time together, working or at leisure, was the way things were supposed to be, and they’d finally gotten it right. The man across from her had ruffled hair and a small smear of sauce at the corner of his mouth, and she couldn’t think of anything that would make the moment more perfect. Amused, she took her napkin and leaned across the table to wipe the sauce away, and Grissom gave her a slightly sheepish smile and signed “Thank you,” which always reminded her of a blown kiss. Later, in the parking garage, they stood by her car for a little while and kissed for real. They were almost the same height, which was handy for kissing, but her legs were longer; and that meant that it was natural for Grissom’s hands to rest at her waist, cupping over her hips in warm familiarity. His lips were on the corner of her mouth, velvet soft, teasing her just there. A gentle suction, a tiny nibble, the slightest touch of his tongue, and it drove her absolutely nuts--not just the anticipation, but the way he could focus his entire attention on so small a spot, and make it seem like the most sensitive and important thing in her world. Sara finally sighed in delighted exasperation and caught his mouth with hers, claiming the full kiss she wanted. He felt so good. Some part of her had always known, she thought vaguely. This was her match. And when they parted, a little breathless, and laid last farewell kisses on each other’s skin, she went home happy. It was an odd feeling, but very welcome. Two weeks later Groundhog Day was just past when Sara’s cellphone rang as she perused a casefile. She reached for the device without looking, eyes still fixed on the evidence inventory before her, and flipped it open. “Hello?” “Sara.” The voice made her blink, and smile, and she put down the papers and leaned back in her chair, careful not to hit her cubicle wall. “Hey, Gil, what’s up?” “I can’t meet you for lunch today,” he said flatly. The lack of emotion took her aback. “Okay,” she answered, a bit uncertain. “You got called in to consult on a case?” “No.” His tone did not invite questions, but that only put her on the alert, and she sat up. “What’s the matter?” “Nothing, Sara,” he said sharply, and she frowned. “Bullshit.” It was an effort to keep her voice quiet. An intern stuck his head into her cubicle and handed her a folder, distracting her from framing her next sentence as she nodded him on his way. “It’s not your problem.” Grissom huffed a breath. “I just wanted to let you know that I wouldn’t be able to make it.” “Gil--“ A curt “Goodbye” cut across her words, and then he hung up. Stunned, Sara closed her phone slowly, struggling to understand what had just happened. What the hell was that? Worry was foremost in her mind--clearly something had happened that had upset him--but anger was a very close second. How can he just--dump me, without an explanation? She was suddenly tempted to pitch the phone into the next cubicle. Where does he get off acting like that? Instead, she punched the speed dial for his cellphone. It went directly to voice mail, and she knew he was avoiding her, which only made her angrier. But behind the anger came a slow swell of miserable disappointment. I really thought he’d changed. I thought he’d finally pulled his head out of his ass. I guess I was wrong. Her hands were shaking. Sara clenched them into fists, then stood up. Schooling her expression into blankness, she headed for the nearest stairwell, taking the three flights up to the roof at a jog. The door to the roof itself was locked, but no one but Maintenance ever came up that far, and the last half-flight was a good place to be private. She sat down on one stair, heedless of the dust, and wrapped her arms around herself. It came to her that she hadn’t really thought about what it would be like if Grissom decided to give up on their experiment; she’d dreaded it, but she hadn’t imagined it with any clarity. Well, here it was, and she was unprepared. Feeling vaguely sick, Sara blinked back tears. I can cope with this. I coped before. But she’d never had so much to lose, before. It was almost twenty minutes before she felt composed enough to return to her desk. Cold, she fished her jacket from the back of her chair and threw it over her shoulders before sitting down and going grimly back to her casefile. What she really wanted to do was go scream at him, or go home and hide, but work was an acceptable escape. She could bury herself in facts and evidence until her heart stopped aching so hard. I’ll be here all night, probably, but who cares. Dammit, Gil.    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