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.   This chapter is for Jpsets, who made me rethink it; the result is, I believe, a much better story.  Thank you!    ********* I don’t want to go home.  Sara glared sourly at her computer as it shut down for the night, resenting the fact that her body needed food and sleep.  She wanted to work straight through, to keep working, to somehow magically forget the fact that Grissom had blown her off.  But there was no forgetting the lump of ice in her middle, the ache of betrayal.  At least Ed’ll be asleep by the time I get home.  She’d called him to say she’d be working late, and she didn’t want to face him, didn’t want to have to explain.  Her desire to hide was still strong, but work had become her refuge.  She shrugged into her jacket, picked up her briefcase, and made her way out to the hallway, pacing past cubicles now dark and empty.  There were times when she liked the hum of activity around her, and times when she preferred the silence, but right now she just didn’t care.  The elevator dropped her swiftly to the garage level, and Sara made sure her gun was easily reached.  The parking garage was relatively well-lit, but she had no desire to end up like Pamela Adler, no matter how depressed she felt.  As she walked down the aisles of parking spaces, mostly empty now, she saw what she wasn’t expecting--another human being.  Grissom was leaning against her car, a little slumped, a lonely figure in his coat and gloves.  She wasn’t quite surprised to see him there; instead she felt a painful hope that she immediately squashed, and a surging fury that had been bubbling all day.  Without hesitating, she strode up to the car.  Grissom straightened as she approached, but she didn’t look at him, instead pressing her key remote to unlock the doors.  “You’re a little late for lunch,” she said coldly.  He unfolded his arms.  “I know,” he said.  “Sara, I--“   “I don’t want to hear it.”  She opened the passenger door and tossed in her briefcase, but when she came around to the other side of the vehicle, Grissom didn’t budge--and he was leaning against the driver’s door.  “Move.”   “Not until you let me say what I came to say.”  His voice was calm, but when Sara finally brought herself to look at his face, her stomach twisted sharply.  She hadn’t seen that expression on his face since last August, when she’d cornered him in a Pennsylvania parking lot.  He was in pain--and more than that, he was despairing.  So what.  He can rot for all I care--  She considered her options.  She could move him, if she really tried, but not without hurting him.  She could go in through the passenger door, but her pride rebelled at trying to crawl over the gearshift in a skirt.  She could walk away, and hope he didn’t chase her.  Or she could listen to him, get it over with, and get her car back.  Sara folded her arms.  “All right.  Make it quick.”  Grissom let out a breath.  “First of all, I want to apologize.  I was wrong to treat you like that, and to hang up on you, and I’m very sorry.”  She bared her teeth.  “’Sorry’ doesn’t cut it, Grissom.”  He winced.  “Do you really think you can treat me like that and then just expect me to let it go?”    “No,” he replied heavily.  “But I have to start somewhere, and an apology seemed the only right choice.”   “All right, you’ve apologized.  Fine.  Now get out of my way.”  He didn’t budge.  “I’m not done.”  Sara clenched her jaw, wondering if it was worth it to try to body-check him off the car.  It wasn’t, she decided after a moment; he massed a good deal more than she did, and backing up to get a run at him would just give him time to brace.  Apparently taking her silence for consent, Grissom shifted a little and continued.  “Second, I came to my senses about ninety minutes after my call, but you didn’t answer your cellphone and the switchboard wouldn’t put me through to your work phone.”  She had been screening her calls, not wanting to lose her precarious temper with some innocent.  Sara blinked as a thought occurred to her.  “How long have you been down here?”  Grissom glanced at his watch, looking a little sheepish.  “I got here at three-twenty, but it took me almost half an hour to talk the guards into letting me in to wait for you.  They insisted on calling Las Vegas to confirm my credentials.”  She stared at him.  “You’ve been waiting for me for nine hours?”  He shrugged.  “I did have to take a couple of restroom breaks.”  Sara was still furious, but mixed with her anger was both confusion and a sneaking sense of being flattered.  This wasn’t what she expected at all; she’d thought that he would retreat permanently, or try to ignore what had happened, not plant himself by her car and wait.  His gloved hands flexed nervously.  “Sara, I was an idiot.  I know that.  You have every right to shut me out, to refuse to see me again.  But I…please don’t.”  He swallowed.  “Please.”  Something in her tore then, a bright sharp pain, because of all the things she’d imagined over the years, she’d never imagined this one: the man she’d respected and despised, loved and hated and given up on twice, begging.  Letting go his pride and pleading with her.  And at the same time, a cool little thought surfaced in the back of her mind.  Nobody’s perfect.  Maybe next time it’ll be you.  If she let there be a next time.  If she--  Sara squeezed her eyes shut to try to stem the tears.  “You--I can’t deal with this, Griss.  You can’t shut me out like this.”   “I know,” he said, and his voice was thick with regret.  “It’s a lifetime of habit, but I swear to you I’m trying to change it.”  She bit the inside of her cheek, and opened her eyes.  “What the hell happened, anyway?”  Grissom’s mouth tightened, and he looked away, taking a deep breath and then letting it out again.  “I...I got a phone call from Susan about twenty minutes before I called you.  My mother got lost during her walk last night.  They found her quickly, but…”  He had to swallow again.  “She’s been taking that same route for five years.  She’s…getting worse.”  It was Sara’s turn to wince.  It was all too easy to imagine Rosalie bewildered on some side street, her elegant control fading as she struggled to remember the way home in a world gone suddenly alien.  “Gil…I’m sorry.”   He bowed his head.  “Look, I know I screwed up.  If you need time to decide, I’ll...”  He lifted one hand in a feeble gesture, then pushed off the car and stood uncertainly.  When Sara said nothing, he offered a defeated nod, and began trudging away.  The rip went clear through her.  Sara didn’t know if it was anger or anguish that propelled her after him, but she had his arm in a tight grip within five strides.  “No!  You do not get to walk away from me again.”  He swung around, and with a shock Sara saw tears standing in his eyes.  In the next instant they were wrapped so tightly around each other that she could feel the buttons of her coat pressing into her flesh.  Grissom was shuddering, mumbling smeared apologies into her hair, and Sara felt her anger turn to sadness, an unfamiliar grief that ebbed slowly in the comfort of his embrace.  She found herself crying, the accumulated tension spilling over, and Grissom kissed the tears away one by one, still murmuring “I’m sorry”.  “You can’t do this, Gil,” she whispered at last, as they rocked together.  “I can’t trust you if you do this.”  “I know,” he said again, one hand cupping the back of her head, his lips against her cheekbone.  “I won’t.  I promise.”  Doubt bit at her, but Sara held him tighter.  I guess we have to start somewhere.      I can’t believe how stupid that was.  Grissom was slumped against the headboard of his bed, the golden light of the bedside lamp giving the room soft edges.  Sara was asleep in his arms, head on his chest, but Grissom couldn’t calm his mind enough to sleep.  And what about Mom?  She has to move now--  He glanced down at Sara.  Her face was turned away from his, and her hair was mussed; he reflected that she couldn’t be terribly comfortable sleeping in her blouse and skirt, but he was reluctant to wake her.  She actually forgave me.  Far more than I deserve.  With the lightest of touches, he straightened a wrinkle in her blouse.  It had been almost nauseating, the realization of what he’d done by hanging up on Sara.  He’d worked so hard to build back trust that he’d spent years eroding, and with one blow he’d shattered it again.  The only comfort he had was that she had forgiven him, at least enough to not leave him.  Grissom was painfully aware that he would have a lot to do to make it up to her.  My redeeming grace.  She’d looked so shattered, and he’d been so tired, that when he’d led her out of the garage to his car, she hadn’t said a word in protest.  In a sort of daze, they’d gone to his apartment, and he’d made them tea with the vague knowledge that they really needed to consume something.  And without discussing it, they’d simply held each other for a long, long time.  Since the apartment lacked a couch, the bed was the only place to do it.  Eventually, Sara had fallen asleep, leaving Grissom’s thoughts to circle endlessly around what he’d done to her, and what to do about his mother.  It was awful, feeling so helpless.  For one thing, he was so far away from Rosalie; but Grissom had to admit that being closer wouldn’t do much.  And Susan and Jack are there.  But there was little they could do, either.  Rosalie was condemned to a slow deterioration of memory and ability, and while she was already on medication that might delay the process somewhat, the conclusion was inevitable.  He was going to have to watch his mother lose her grip on life, and dread the day when she didn’t recognize him, or anyone else.  That, too, made him feel sick.  Sara sighed in his arms, and then stirred, reflexively snuggling a little closer as she woke.  When she lifted her head, her face was still tired, but the strain of earlier was nearly gone.  “Are you cold?” Grissom asked quietly.  “Nah.”  She frowned a little, and extracted herself from his grip, sitting up and pushing her hair out of her eyes.  “Have you slept at all?”  Grissom glanced away.  “I can’t.”  Her touch on his face almost startled him, but obediently he turned his gaze back.  There was no anger in Sara’s expression, only sympathy.  “C’mere,” she said.  And he found himself drawn down into her embrace, held the way no one had held him in decades, as though he were small again and in need of comfort.  It had been a very long time since he’d allowed anyone to offer him comfort.  When Sara started running her fingers through his hair, Grissom let out a long, long breath, and focused on her heartbeat under his ear.  And listening to that, strong and slow, he fell asleep.      Grissom woke alone for the second time, but almost immediately he heard movement, the faint clink of china and the hiss of water in the kitchen sink.  Rolling over, he winced at stiff muscles, still feeling tired, and slightly grubby from sleeping in his clothes.  Standing up, he stretched and headed for the small bathroom to use the facilities and brush his teeth.  As he came out again, he noticed the time with surprise.  It was past eight o’clock--not a problem for him, but...  Sara looked out through the kitchenette window as he came into the main room, and smiled--not her full brilliant smile, but a genuine one.  “Good morning.”  Her hair was tangled, and her skirt and blouse were hopelessly crumpled, but she still took his breath away.  “You look beautiful,” Grissom said, coming around to stand in the kitchen doorway, and held up a hand when she opened her mouth with a doubtful look.  “It’s just an observation.”  Sara snorted gently.  “I started some coffee.  And I took a personal day at work.  I think we need to talk.”  Some part of him quailed at that thought, but Grissom focused on the positive.  She’s still here.  “You’re right.”  He scrubbed his hands over his face, and lowered them to give her an appealing look.  “But can we eat first?”  She laughed, and Grissom wanted very much to kiss her, but he wasn’t sure he was allowed to any longer.  “Definitely.  I think my blood sugar’s in my socks.”  She opened the refrigerator.  “Please tell me you have something more than bacon in here.”  “Uh, nope.”  Grissom shrugged as Sara closed the door again.  “I was planning on running to the store yesterday, but...”  “Yeah.”  Her expression was thoughtful.  Grissom thought fast.  “Tell you what--let me take a quick shower, and then I’ll run out and get something while you have one.  I’m pretty sure I’ve got something you can wear.”  She smiled again, looking a little speculative.  “Sounds like a plan.”  The coffee machine finished its cycle, and without asking Sara poured two mugs, handing him one before doctoring her own.  “You don’t have anything scheduled today, do you?”  Grissom sipped, and shook his head.  “No.”  Sara tasted her own coffee, then slid past him, leaning over to kiss his cheek briefly.  The warm touch of her lips was a small relief.  “Get me a toothbrush too while you’re out?”  “There’s a couple of extras in the medicine cabinet,” Grissom answered, turning to watch as she walked over to sit in one of the armchairs.  “There are clean towels, too.”  He took his coffee back to the bedroom and rummaged a little, finding a clean dress shirt and puzzling over what to offer her as a replacement for her skirt.  He finally settled on a pair of pajama pants, which he didn’t usually wear unless he was feeling unwell; they had a drawstring waist and might work.  A short shower later, Grissom felt much refreshed, though still apprehensive.  What if she wants to tell me she’s fed up?  Wants to quit and leave me?  He swallowed hard as he ran a comb through his hair.  It would be nothing more than I deserve.  But--  As he got dressed, Grissom kept thinking of things Sara might want to use, and eventually he made the bed and spread them out on the quilt--clothes, towels, brush and comb, toothbrush, the lotion he used on his hands when they grew chapped from repeated washing.  Reining in his nervousness, he grabbed his wallet and keys and went back out.  “What would you like for breakfast?”  Sara looked up from the journal she’d found.  “A bagel’s fine.  Or whatever.”  “All right.  Um, I put some stuff out for you.  Take your time.”  She nodded, smiling faintly, and Grissom let himself out.  He didn’t want to settle for just bagels.  Grissom drove to one of the big local grocery stores, which boasted a sort of lunch counter that also served breakfast.  There were many choices, some of them vegetarian, and Grissom knew the food to be good; he had fallen into the habit of eating there on mornings when he had a consulting job.  So he came back with fruit salad and breakfast quiche and a couple of danishes, and the requested bagels.  When he opened the door, he found Sara dressed in his offerings, and using the apartment’s ironing board and iron to press her skirt.  She looked up a little guiltily.  “I hope you don’t mind, I kind of went ahead and--”  “Of course not,” Grissom interrupted, coming forward to put the bag on the table and shuck his jacket.  He couldn’t help staring a little; Sara’s hair, still slightly damp, was curling freely, and the too-big shirt with the sleeves rolled up made her look younger.  The pants were a fraction too short, and her bare feet were long and elegant and vulnerable.  “I’m almost done anyway.”  Sara finished running the iron over the skirt and shook it out, draping it carefully over the back of a chair before putting away the equipment.  Grissom set out the food and poured more coffee.  They sat down on either side of the small table, and Sara raised her brows at the choices.  “This looks really great, Gil.”  She reached for the fruit salad.  Grissom served himself some of the food, but he found that it stuck in his throat.  He pushed it around on his plate, and watched Sara eat, noting with a sort of pained pleasure as color came back to her cheeks.  But halfway through her bagel, Sara fixed him with a mild glare.  “Why aren’t you eating?  You haven’t eaten since yesterday morning, remember?”  Grissom reached across the table and took her hand, the one not holding the bagel.  “Sara, I--I have to...  Are you going to call it quits?”  She blinked, and looked down at their hands before turning hers over so their palms met.  “I thought about it,” she said frankly, and Grissom clenched his teeth against the cold roil in his gut.  “But then I remembered how long I’ve waited for this, and how much I’ve wanted it, and--if I were going to leave you, Gil, I would have done it last night.”  He let out a long, long breath, feeling all the muscles along his spine relax in a dizzy rush of relief, and lifted her hand to press it to his mouth for a second.  “Thank you.”  Sara flushed a little, her eyes going shy.  “It’s not just that.  I...I was thinking.”  She gave an abashed shrug.  “Gil, I practically gave up on us on the spot, without even trying.  That’s not a good way to handle things.”  Grissom cocked his head.  “Sara, you can’t blame yourself--I was the one at fault.”  She shook her head and pulled her hand away.  “You weren’t the only one.  For one thing, I should have tried to figure out what was the matter, instead of just getting mad.  For another, why the hell should I expect you to be perfect?”  He blinked, taken aback, and she went on.  “You’ve been...amazing...these past couple of months.  I mean, really amazing.”  Sara offered him a weak smile.  “But geez, you’re human.  You’re going to mess up sometimes.”  She sighed.  “So’m I.”  Grissom opened his mouth to deny it, but she lifted her chin.  “You know I will sometime.  Maybe not the same way, but sooner or later I’m going to do something that will hurt you.  And how can I expect you to forgive me if I can’t forgive you?”  Words tumbled over each other in Grissom’s mind, denials, promises, reassurances, but he couldn’t seem to bring any of them out.  Instead, he gathered up both her hands this time, and kissed the palms, and felt her cup his face as though it were the most precious thing she’d ever touched.  And that was enough.      “What are you going to do?” she asked him later, as he drove her back to her office to pick up her car.  He frowned.  “I’m not sure.  My leave of absence is up in a couple of weeks, but I’m going to need a week to move Mom, and Susan says that there’s at least a month’s waiting list to get into the better facilities.”  Grissom saw Sara’s eyes widen a little in disbelief, and shrugged.  “She’s not physically incapacitated, so she’s relatively low priority.”  Her low sound of disgust echoed his own feelings.  “What a crock.”  Grissom grimaced in agreement.  “Unfortunately, that’s what we have to work with.”  They were silent for a little space as Grissom navigated past a fender-bender and the police car that accompanied it, but Sara’s hand rested for a moment on his leg, a warm gesture of support.  “I’m thinking of extending my leave for two more months,” Grissom said at last.  “That would give me time to get her settled…and give us a little more as well.”  He glanced over in time to see her slow nod.  “Do you think the lab will give it to you?”  “If the director wants me to come back, it will,” he replied, feeling confident on that if nothing else.  “And if not…I have other options.”  It was true.  Grissom had planned to return, yes, but he was prepared to give up his old life for Sara; and Rosalie’s deterioration was a new factor to be considered.  The work-intense life of a lab-affiliated CSI didn’t leave a lot of room for last-minute trips to another state.  “We’ll make it work,” Sara said firmly, and he took heart from that.       Sara climbed the stairs to the townhouse’s main floor, slowing as weariness caught up with her.  Between working late and emotional exhaustion, she felt worn out.  But it was early afternoon, and the house was blissfully silent with the kids at school and Ed at work.  The only indication that anyone had even noticed her absence was the note waiting for her on the small table where she and Ed usually kept their keys.  “CALL ME”, it said in bold letters.  Pursing her lips on the smile, Sara kicked off her shoes and dug her cellphone from the pocket of her coat before hanging the latter up.  Within two rings, she had Ed’s voice in her ear.  “Are you all right?”  “I’m fine.”  Sara sat down on the couch, rolling up the sleeve of Grissom’s shirt where it had come loose.  “We, um, worked things out.”  “Okay.”  Some of the tension in Ed’s voice relaxed.  “Are you going to tell me about it?”  “Hell no.”  She loved her brother dearly, but some things were private.  In fact, all she’d told him the night before was that she was out with Grissom, but he’d known something was up.  He snickered.  “Fair enough.  Sure you don’t want me to give him the Spanish influenza?”  “Back off with the microbes,” she ordered with a smirk.  “It’s fine.”  “Really?”  Sara thought a moment.  “Yeah.”  “Okay then.  Go sleep or whatever.”  “See you tonight.”  Sara closed the phone and sat back, idly considering a nap right where she was.  But it’s Tuesday, and Gracie’ll be by in a little while.  And I don’t feel like explaining why I’m wearing Gil’s shirt.  Sighing, she pushed herself upright, and collected her shoes and bag before heading upstairs.  Her room was a bit of a mess, but it was familiar, and hers; feeling unusually vulnerable, Sara locked her door, something she didn’t often do.  But I don’t want to be disturbed right now, no matter who comes by.  The bed did look good.  Sara dumped the clothes from last night into the hamper and peeled off the skirt she’d resumed before leaving Grissom’s apartment.  But as she reached for the buttons of the shirt, she hesitated.  There was nothing special about Grissom’s dress shirt...except...  It smells like him.  Faintly, a ghost of scent under the smell of cotton and hint of detergent.  She held the collar to her nose and pulled air in through the fabric, tasting it in the back of her throat.  A jumble of images filled her head, from Grissom’s slump-shouldered giving up to his head resting on her chest to the deeply reverent expression she’d held between her hands only an hour or so before.  What a night.  Sara pulled back the quilt on her bed and climbed in, yanking the cover over herself and burrowing down into the warmth as though for protection.  She wrapped her arms around her torso, feeling absurdly lonely, and for a moment pretended it was Grissom’s hug.  He’s it.  He’s always been it.  No matter how wrongheaded he could get, Gil Grissom was the one her heart wanted, never mind what her head might have to say about it.  Feeling suddenly mischievous, Sara propped herself up on one elbow and reached for the phone on her bedside table.  She didn’t use it much, preferring her cellphone, but she’d programmed a few numbers into the handset.  She punched in one combination and lay back down, smirking at the ceiling.  Grissom answered within two rings, sounding a little surprised.  “Sara?”  “You’re mine,” she told him, and pressed the disconnect button.  Satisfied, she replaced the handset and rolled over to sleep, still smirking.    On the other end, Grissom stared at the phone in his hand, a grin he knew to be foolish spreading over his face.  She’s right.       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