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.      ********* Sara sighed, and regarded the sheaf of papers on her bedroom desk without favor.  Evidence files, she didn’t mind at all; supervisor reviews were boring.  Not that she wasn’t going to give Toby Washington the highest of marks; but actually doing so was dull, and she really didn’t feel like doing it.  Oh, face it.  You miss Gil.  She sighed again, and pushed away from the desk, looking around her room restlessly.  He’d only been gone two days, and in fact she expected him back sometime that evening, but it had been hard to let him go after their near-disaster.  Her only comfort had been the almost frantic kiss he’d laid on her mouth when she’d dropped him off at the airport; evidence as clear as the pain in his eyes that he didn’t want to leave her.  But he had to see Rosalie, and Susan.  Family comes first.  She understood that, and she didn’t resent it.  She just missed him.  A lightning visit, he’d said; flying out on Wednesday and back on Friday, spending scarcely twenty-four hours in California.  Seeing that his mother was all right with his own eyes, and handling more paperwork to try to get her into better care more quickly.  Rosalie’s getting lost had one blessing hidden in it, at least; Grissom could now demonstrate that she was in danger where she was, since her facility wasn’t set up to handle wandering residents.  Cold comfort.  Sara rubbed her eyes, wishing she could have gone with him to offer support, if nothing else; and, selfishly, to be with him.  But it wasn’t practical, especially for such a short trip and at such short notice.  She was only working from home today because her case had wrapped up that morning, and Washington had chased her out, telling her to get an early start on her weekend.  She leaned over to pick up the small framed photo that sat on her bedside table next to the phone.  It was something she’d had in storage since long before she’d left Vegas; she’d dug it out when she’d gotten back from California.  It was the same one that Rosalie had in her album, the group shot of the nightshift team.  Funny how things change.  Sara’s gaze lingered on Grissom’s face, which was beardless, and remembered waking up with beard burn in California.  His ears had flushed when he’d seen her reddened skin, and he’d asked her if she would prefer he shave it.  “Hell no,” she murmured, repeating her answer.  Grissom beardless was undeniably cute; Grissom with a beard was near-irresistible.  Besides, she liked the way it tickled.  Sara put the photo back on the table, then leaned back until the chair was in danger of falling over backwards.  This is weird.  We almost gave up on each other this week.  I should be feeling a lot more doubtful about this whole thing.  Instead, some part of her had relaxed, as though Grissom’s mistake and apology had proven something.  Maybe it did.  She stared out a skylight, seeing only gray clouds.  It sure proved he was serious.  Nine hours, geez!  The memory of his curt phone call still made her feel a little sick, but the remedy was remembering his tight clutch, his repeated apologies, the fear and then the relief in his eyes.  Maybe that’s it.  Maybe we’ve proved that we can go to the edge and still survive.  Sara considered the idea for a while, then tucked it away for later.  Stretching, she unfolded herself from the chair and decided to go downstairs.  Hot cocoa.  Then I’ll deal with this thing.  She threw the evaluation form an unfriendly glance and left the room.      I’m glad to be back.  It was a bittersweet realization.  Grissom parked in front of the Sidles’ townhouse and sat for a moment, gathering his thoughts.  He was tired, but not overly so; being able to afford a first-class ticket meant that one got a truly comfortable airline seat, and he’d slept a solid four hours on the way back to the East Coast.  The past couple of days had been peculiar--arguing with facility administrators and Rosalie’s health insurance, struggling to explain to his mother what was going to happen and why, and praying that she wouldn’t dig her heels in.  Fortunately, she hadn’t refused...yet.  But all the while, he had been conscious of the feeling that even his mother wasn’t “home” to him any longer.  His thoughts were constantly drawn back to Sara.  It seemed as though giving in to his need for her had rearranged everything in his life, making work a distant third instead of the center of it all.  But that was the point, wasn’t it?  Grissom climbed out of his car and drew his collar up a bit against the freezing wind that gusted unevenly past.  He was still getting used to the uncertain weather of the Eastern seaboard; it was perfectly capable of being mild and sunny one day, and the next throwing in an icy wet cold that outstripped Nevada’s dry chill.  The sky was now heavy with clouds in the late afternoon, but nothing was falling at the moment.  As he crossed the Sidles’ small front lawn, another car pulled up behind his--Gracie’s battered Volkswagen--and the housekeeper climbed out.  Grissom paused to wait for her, but as she rounded the vehicle and came closer, he realized that she was in distress.  In fact, she was crying.  The usual feeling of helplessness came over him.  He never knew what to do when a woman cried; his instinct was to offer comfort, but he always feared to offend, and that dread tended to paralyze him.  But as Gracie reached him, he mustered his courage and put a hand on her shoulder.  “Grace, what’s the matter?”  Gracie gave a choked sob and all but fell against him.  Very startled, Grissom automatically wrapped his arms around her to support her, feeling her gloved hands curl into the leather of his jacket and clutch tightly.  She began weeping in earnest.  Grissom widened his stance a little to brace her weight, and patted her back awkwardly, feeling immensely flustered.  “Grace, are you okay?”  She doesn’t seem to be physically hurt, at least.  He heard her say something, but between her sobs and the fact that her face was buried in his chest, he couldn’t make out the words.  Whatever it is, it must be pretty drastic.  Gracie’s usually so serene-- Before Grissom could figure out quite what to do next, the Sidles’ door opened, and he looked up to see Sara in the frame it made.  It suddenly occurred to him that he made an interesting picture, standing on his beloved’s lawn holding another woman in his arms, but in the next instant he discarded the thought.  He didn’t doubt that Sara could be jealous, but she was neither stupid nor unobservant.  Sure enough, she came down the front steps with one bound, hurrying over to them without stopping for a coat, and her gaze was all for Gracie.  “What happened?” she asked, sounding worried.  Grissom let out a breath, part frustration, part apprehension.  “I don’t know.”  Sara put gentle hands on Gracie’s heaving shoulders.  “Grace…Grace, come inside.  C’mon.”  She managed to coax Gracie into letting Grissom’s jacket go, and the two of them supported her inside, as she was half-blinded from tears.  Her sobs slacked off somewhat as they got her into the house, but then Ed appeared at the top of the stairs, starting down them with his face creased in alarm.  “Gracie--”  The housekeeper started weeping in earnest again, and bolted up the stairs into his arms.  Ed wrapped her protectively in his hug and cradled her close, murmuring reassurances into her hair.  After a couple of minutes he helped her up the rest of the stairs, guiding her out of Grissom’s sight.  Sara whistled softly, her face sober as she looked after them.  “Something pretty bad must have happened,” she said in a low voice.  Grissom shook his head, and peeled off his gloves to stick them in his jacket pockets.  “I assume so, but I couldn’t understand anything she said.”  Sara turned to him and unzipped his jacket absently.  “Well, I’m sure Ed’ll find out when he gets her calmed down a little.”  She rested her hands on his waist and tilted her head to kiss him soundly, and Grissom leaned into the kiss.  “I’m glad you’re back.”  Grissom slipped his arms around her and gave her a second kiss, longer and warmer still.  “So am I.  I missed you, Sara.”  She sighed happily and hugged him for a moment before pulling back.  “You did good just now,” she added, regarding him thoughtfully.  Grissom snorted quietly.  “The panic was that obvious?”  Sara pursed her lips, trying unsuccessfully to smother a smile.  “You did look a little…stressed out,” she admitted.  “But the Gil I knew three years ago wouldn’t have been able to deal with someone he barely knew bawling on his shoulder.  You would have detached her gently and passed her off to someone else.”  The thought was not entirely comfortable, but Grissom realized that it was true.  It was odd; he’d been trying to change, trying to become a man whom Sara could trust, but he hadn’t considered that he might be changing in relation to other people as well.  “Mmm.”  He shrugged out of his jacket and followed Sara up the stairs, both of them treading lightly.  Ed and Gracie were huddled together on the couch, and Grissom could still hear her sobbing, though it was a quieter sound now.  Ed’s eyes met Sara’s over Gracie’s curls, and some silent communication passed between the siblings.  Sara caught Grissom’s gaze and tilted her head towards the kitchen, and signed “Tea?”  Grissom nodded, grateful to have something to do, and went to fill the kettle.  It didn’t take long to boil.  He made the tea strong and added a generous amount of sugar before taking the heavy mug out to the living room.  Gracie was no longer weeping, though her eyes were swollen and her face blotched; she sat in the circle of Ed’s arm as though seeking protection.  Sara sat on the low coffee table, holding a box of tissues.  Grissom held out the mug to Gracie, and she sat up a little and took it with an effort at a smile.  “Thanks,” she whispered.  Sara and Ed exchanged looks again, and then Sara set down the box and patted Gracie’s knee.  “We’ll be upstairs if you need us,” she said, and rose.  They made their way up to her room, and Sara sighed as she closed her door behind them.  “Poor Gracie.”  Sara’s bed was covered with piles of folded laundry, and rather than move them, Grissom sat down in the armchair.  He was curious as to the cause of Gracie’s heartbreak, but he had no doubt that the matter was private.  But Sara flopped down on her bed, careless of the jeans and shirts, and rolled over onto her side.  “It’s a long story, but…”  Grissom raised a brow.  “Should you be telling me?”  “Oh sure,” Sara said without hesitation.  “Grace trusts you.”  Grissom blinked at that, but before he could ask how Sara knew, she was continuing.  “Her ex, Danny, killed himself last night.”  Sara sighed again.  “He’s been in a mental institution for the past seven years--classic paranoid schizophrenia.”  Grissom saw a shudder pass over her, quick and subtle, and wanted to reach out and gather her up, but refrained from interrupting.  “They were college sweethearts, planned on getting married, but then he started showing signs.”  Sara’s mouth twisted sadly.  “He had a persecution complex, the whole works, and his family was useless.  Gracie dropped out of college to take care of him, but he kept getting worse and worse.  After a while she didn’t even know where he was half the time, so when he came back one time she had him committed.”  Grissom winced inwardly.  It was far too easy to imagine Grace’s despair.  “She works like crazy to keep him in someplace better than the state institution.”  Sara shook her head.  “She’s made of steel to keep that up and go to school too.  But last night he apparently went completely over the edge, and they didn’t find him in time.”  She stared at the floor.  Grissom remembered what she’d told him about her experiences with such places, and held out one hand.  “Come here.”  Sara looked up, then swung her legs off the bed and stood up, putting her hand in his.  Grissom drew her gently forward and coaxed her down onto his lap--a slightly ridiculous position given the length of her legs, but he didn’t care.  She sat stiffly for a moment, then gradually relaxed, letting him pull her head to his shoulder.  She let out another sigh, a deep one, as he cuddled her, and he let himself enjoy the moment even as he sorrowed for Gracie’s loss.  He’d come so close to losing Sara a second time; this was too precious to waste.  “How’d it go?” Sara asked after a while, her breath brushing across his collar.  Grissom let one hand stroke her hair.  “Acceptably.  I got things started, anyway.”  She nodded under his fingers, and her arm, burrowed behind his back, snugged a little closer.  “How is she?”  He blew out a breath.  “Confused.  Indignant.  She remembers getting lost, but I don’t think she realizes why it happened.”  Grissom’s mouth twitched at the memory of Rosalie’s silent ranting.  “It...comes and goes.”  One long-fingered hand reached up to rest on his chest, a gesture not so much of sympathy as of commiseration.  Grissom gave into impulse and leaned his cheek on the top of Sara’s head.  He didn’t want to say anything more just then, but she asked no more questions, and for a while they were just quiet together.  It was the faint sound of a door slamming that brought Sara upright and out of Grissom’s lap in one lithe motion, leaving his arms suddenly empty.  “I forgot--the kids went to skating after school--”  She strode across the room and out the door so quickly that it took Grissom several seconds to catch up.  As he came down the second flight of stairs he saw that Ed and Gracie were no longer in the living room; Sara was helping Joseph with his stuck coat zipper as Kimmy took off her own coat.  Both kids had cheeks flushed with exercise and were chattering excitedly about skating with their friends.  Grissom sat on the arm of the couch, returning Kimmy’s wave of greeting, and watched as Sara waited for the children’s enthusiasm to run down a little.  “Guys,” she said at last, still kneeling, “I need to tell you something serious.”  When she had their attention, she rested her hands on her thighs and went on.  “Gracie’s here, but she’s upstairs resting, and I’d like you to be quiet this evening.  A friend of hers died yesterday, and she’s very sad.”  The small faces went sober.  “Was it her mommy?” Joseph asked after a moment, and Sara put an arm around him.  “No.  It was a friend of hers from college.  He was...sick, for a long time.”  Sara grimaced, obviously searching for words.  “Your dad’s looking after her for a little while, so he’s going to be busy tonight too.”  “But I’m hungry,” Joseph said, looking slightly distressed.  Despite the sad situation, Grissom had to suppress another snort of amusement; Sara’s lack of skill in the kitchen was a fact of life to her small relations.  “We could go to McDonald’s,” Kimmy pointed out hopefully.  “Not on a school night,” Sara returned firmly.  “You know the rules.  I’ll make you some eggs or something.”  Joey’s lip quivered, and Kimmy looked sulky.  Grissom stepped forward and laid a hand on Sara’s shoulder.  “I could fix something, if you like.”  Sara looked up at him, surprise and relief on her face.  “That would be great.”  Grissom nodded, and went off to investigate the contents of the Sidles’ pantry.    He was in the middle of rigatoni parmesan and his mother’s apple salad when he heard Ed’s voice in the living room where Sara was helping the children with their homework.  After a moment, the elder Sidle appeared in the kitchen, face drawn but not upset.  “Hey,” he said quietly, going to the refrigerator and pouring himself a glass of juice.  “Is Gracie all right?” Grissom asked, spooning out brown sugar.  Ed swallowed a gulp of the liquid and shrugged.  “She will be.  It’s half relief, really, and of course she feels guilty about feeling relieved.”  Grissom stirred the salad dressing.  “That makes sense.”  He tapped the spoon against the edge of the bowl.  “How did you know that I knew what had happened?”  Ed shrugged.  “I knew Sara would tell you.”  He finished off the juice and set the glass in the dishwasher.  “Grace is asleep for now, but I’m going to go back up and keep an eye on her; she shouldn’t be alone right now.”  His eyes were bleak.  I suppose he would know, even if the circumstances aren’t the same.  Grissom nodded, and made a mental note to ask Sara where the trays were kept.  When the pasta was ready to come out of the oven, Grissom scanned the chore chart kept on the refrigerator and saw that it was Joey’s night to set the table, so he stuck his head out into the living room.  “Dinner’s almost ready,” he said quietly.  “May I borrow Joseph?”  Sara, bent over Kimmy’s math book, patted Joey’s shoulder with a teasing smile.  “Hurry up, kiddo, I’m starving and it smells really good.”  Grissom, amused at the compliment, gave her a wink and went back to his preparations.  Joey followed him.  “What’s on the menu?” he asked with gravity.  “Macaroni and cheese, and fruit salad,” Grissom answered.  “But I think you should only set four places.  I’ll take some dinner up to your dad and Gracie later.”  “Okay,” Joey said, not commenting further, and washed his hands before assembling plates and silverware.  Grissom, having seen him perform the chore before, knew Joey would get it right, and reserved only the heavy baking dish for himself.  He spooned out two generous portions and covered them before taking it out to the dining room and calling to Sara and Kimmy to wash their own hands.  Dinner was somewhat subdued, but the speed with which it vanished assured Grissom that his skills had not waned.  As Joseph began clearing the table, Grissom laid a hand on Sara’s arm.  “Should I take a tray up to Ed and Grace?”  She hesitated, then shook her head.  “Let me go up first and see…”  She trailed off, but Grissom nodded, squeezing her arm gently, and then let her go and started stacking plates.       Sara knocked softly on the door to Ed’s bedroom, not wanting to wake Gracie, and then at Ed’s bidding pushed the door open.  The room was dim, with just one low lamp on, and Ed was sitting in the battered armchair next to his big bed, watching the woman sleeping there.  “Want some dinner?” Sara asked quietly.  Ed sighed.  “I guess it would be a good idea.”  She gave him an arch look.  “Careful with that enthusiasm, you might hurt yourself.”  That did the trick; he snickered.  “Yes, thank you, I’d love some dinner.”  “Better.”  As Sara spoke, Gracie made a low whimpering sound, and uncurled from her huddle.  Ed leaned forward and put a hand on her shoulder.  “Grace...it’s okay.”  His attention was all for her, but Sara nodded anyway.  “Two plates,” she said, and went back downstairs.  Grissom was helping Joey load the dishwasher when she came into the kitchen, and Sara pointed at the items stacked in the sink.  “You cooked, I’ll wash.”  “I’ll dry,” he countered easily, and then glanced at Joseph.  “Unless that’s your department?”  Joey put a last glass in the upper rack and shook his head.  “My hands aren’t big enough yet.”  He held them up solemnly, fingers spread, and Sara melted a little as Grissom nodded equally gravely.  “Makes sense.  I think that’s it, Joey, and if not I’ll get the rest.  You go ahead.”  “Okay!”  Joseph flashed him a sudden smile, and slapped five on the hand Grissom held out in the ritual they’d developed.  Then he was scampering out of the room, and Grissom turned to Sara with both brows raised.  She couldn’t keep back the grin, and walked over to kiss him.  “You have no idea how cute you look.”  Grissom returned the kiss without hesitation, but his expression was skeptical.  “I am far too old and dignified to be cute.”  “Nobody’s too old to be cute, especially you,” Sara returned, pretending to straighten his collar.  “And you’re not old.  Gracie’s awake, so we might as well make it two plates.”  “Already done.”  Grissom stepped away and picked up a plate on the counter, removing the plastic wrap and putting it into the microwave.  Another stood waiting.  “There’s some fruit left, too.”  Sara divided the remainder of the salad into two small bowls while Grissom heated the rigatoni and collected silverware.  They arranged the meals on two trays, and Sara added a couple of bottles of water from the fridge before they each picked up a tray.  Gracie was sitting up when they entered the room, still looking very pale and shocky, but her smile was genuine this time, if weak.  Sara set her tray down in Gracie’s lap while Grissom handed his to Ed, and after murmured thanks from both recipients they went back downstairs to start the dishes.  “Feel like hanging around?” Sara asked casually as she scrubbed at the casserole dish, and Grissom, drying a paring knife, shot her a teasing look.  “I thought you’d never ask.”  She grinned back, delighted that he was there.  “Hey, we haven’t had dessert yet, and I happen to know there’s an untouched half-gallon of mint chip in the freezer.”  “That’s a deal-maker,” Grissom deadpanned, and took the heavy dish as she finished rinsing it.  “I see what Joey meant about his hands.”  Sara nodded.  “His grip strength isn’t quite up to ceramic bakeware yet, but give him six months.”  Kimmy stuck her head in the kitchen door at that moment.  “Aunt Sara, do I have to practice tonight?  Daddy said Gracie was sleeping.”  Sara knew that Kimmy’s concern for their guest was no doubt augmented by a desire to get out of clarinet practice for a night, but she acquiesced.  “She’s not sleeping now, but I think you’re right; tonight should be quiet.  You finish your homework?”  Kimmy nodded, and Sara glanced at the clock.  It was just past seven.  “Okay.  Tell Joey you two can watch a movie as long as you don’t fight over which one.  Then it’ll be bedtime for both of you.”  Kimmy nodded again, much more enthusiastically, and vanished.  Sara chuckled and unplugged the sink, snagging the towel from Grissom’s hands to dry her own.  “If you see what movie they picked, I’ll get the ice cream.”  Grissom put the dish away in the appropriate cabinet.  “Are we going to watch with them?”  “Depends on what they pick.  If it’s Barbie III...”  Sara shuddered.  Grissom raised his brows again, and went out.  Sara pulled down four bowls and found the ice cream scoop; as she began dishing out the confection, Grissom returned.  “It’s The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe,” he reported.  Sara let a scoop plop into a bowl.  “That sound good to you?”  Grissom shrugged.  “Sure, I haven’t seen it since it came out in the theater.”  Sara had to stare.  “You’ve seen it at all?”  He grinned, and stuck a finger in one bowl before licking off the ice cream.  “I like movies.”  The unexpectedly boyish gesture made her stomach tingle.  “I’ll keep that in mind.”  They ended up at either end of the couch with the kids in the middle; the younger Sidles devoured their ice cream and watched the screen with the dedication of true fans, though they’d both seen it many times before.  Sara, who perforce had seen it many times as well, savored her dessert and watched Grissom covertly.  His attention seemed to be fixed on the screen also, though he ate his ice cream more slowly, sucking absently on the spoon when the story got exciting.  Eventually good won out over evil, as it always did, and Sara herded the kids upstairs to get ready for bed.  When they were both settled in bed with books, Sara came back down, finding Grissom sitting lengthwise on the couch, reading a copy of National Geographic while the TV blathered quietly in the background.  Without hesitation she walked over and sat down on his end of the couch.  Grissom tossed the magazine on the coffee table and welcomed her into his arms.  “Is there something you want to watch?” he said into her hair.  Sara picked up the remote and shut off the TV before setting it back down and turning to face him.  “Nope.  I’d rather neck.”  His chuckle vibrated through her.  “No objections h--”  She covered his lips with hers before he could finish the sentence, and for a while they traded kisses in the quiet dimness of the living room.  Grissom tasted of mint and chocolate and himself, and it was a flavor that Sara found herself craving more and more.  In fact, they became so involved that the sound of a door closing overhead startled them slightly.  Sara lifted her head from Grissom’s throat, where she was exploring the edge of his beard in detail, and glanced over at the stairs.  Another door closed.  “Bathroom,” she said with a sigh.  He let out his own breath, and pulled the hem of her shirt down with gentle fingers.  “I should go.”  Sara opened her mouth to object, and then saw the glitter in his eyes, and rethought.  Much as I’d like to continue this, the couch in my brother’s living room isn’t the place.  “It is getting kind of late,” she agreed.  It took them a minute to find Grissom’s jacket; he’d left it in the kitchen when he’d made Gracie’s tea.  Sara saw him to the front door and got one last, lingering kiss, and watched him drive away with a pang.  I don’t like being apart from him.  Restless, she went back up to the living room and sat back down on the couch.  The magazine absorbed her attention for a while, until footsteps sounded on the stairs.  Ed was carrying the stacked trays and used dishes, and he nodded as he headed into the kitchen.  Sara stood up and followed him, leaning on the counter and watching as he put the dishes into the washer.  “How is she?”  “Asleep again,” Ed said.  “It’s a good thing; I don’t think she’s slept since last night.  She spent most of the night at the hospital.”  Sara nodded.  “Will she be okay?”  “Eventually.”  Ed added soap to the washer and closed it, pressing the start button.  Sara could tell from the set of his face that he didn’t really want to talk about Gracie at the moment, so she nodded again.  “You need anything?”  Ed looked up, and gave her half a smile as he started running water into the sink.  “Not right now.  Thanks.”  She was deep in an article on rainforests when Ed trotted down the stairs to the ground floor, and only vaguely registered the clank and slam of the dryer door, or his returning footsteps.  “I’ll be in the guest room if you need me,” he announced, striding back past with a pair of pajama pants flung over his shoulder.  “What for?” Sara inquired absently, then looked up.  “Oh.  Ed--“  He paused.  “What?”  She gave him a dry look.  “Please do not tell me that you’re leaving her alone in your room.’  Her brother flushed slightly.  “I don’t want to wake her--she’s exhausted.”  “That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”  Sara shook her head.  “Ed, she needs somebody with her right now.  She needs you.”  The flush deepened, though Ed remained silent, and when Sara figured out what he was thinking, she rolled her eyes.  “Oh, please.  This is totally different from me and Gil.”  He looked away.  “I can’t break my own rule.”  Amused, exasperated, Sara set aside the magazine and stood to go over and slip her arms around his waist.  “Ed.  I know neither of you are stupid enough to sleep together right now.  But Grace needs someone there.  And as far as the kids are concerned, you’re not dating--yet.”  Ed let out a chuffing breath.  “So I won’t be a howling hypocrite if I do spend the night in there?”  Sara let him go and reached up to ruffle his hair.  “Extenuating circumstances.”  He ducked away.  “All right, all right.  Just this once.”  He gave her a puckish grin.  “Move it, Eddie,” Sara ordered, grinning back, and watched him run up the stairs, pajama legs flapping behind him.  He never seemed to go anywhere slowly.   Suddenly sleepy, Sara followed him, yawning openly since there was no one to see her.  I hope they do get their asses in gear this time.  Ed needs her, and whether she’ll admit it or not, Gracie needs him.   Maybe we can double date.  Snickering at the thought, she climbed the last flight and went to bed.      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