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.   THE RATING HAS NOW CHANGED.  Please take note.   I'm glad so many of you liked the crossword idea in the last chapter!  It was Cinco's idea.  *grin*    ********* Sara climbed the stairs to the townhouse’s main floor, feeling unfamiliarly...achy.  In a good way.  She could hear the vaguely melodious sound of Kimmy practicing her clarinet, but it was faint enough to indicate that Kimmy was in her room.  Sara smiled; she didn’t feel like talking to anyone just now.  The door to Ed’s study was shut, which meant that he was in it and didn’t want to be disturbed.  Sara hung up her coat and headed up to the third floor, pausing to stick her head in through Kimmy’s open door.  I’m back, she mouthed to her niece, and waved, and Kimmy waggled the clarinet at her without ceasing her scale.  She went up one more flight and closed her own door, dumping her bag on one chair; the contents could go into the laundry and the dry-cleaning bin later.  Kicking off her shoes, she walked over to her dresser and stood in front of it, taking stock in the mirror.  She looked rumpled and extremely casual in Grissom’s clothes; her hair was loose and she wore no makeup, and she had a fresh beard burn on her throat.  Unbuttoning the shirt halfway, she pulled it aside to reveal the small bruise just below her collarbone.  Sara knew she had another set on her hip.  Well, to be fair, he’s got that nice fresh bite mark on his shoulder.  Her grin was unrepentant and downright wicked.  Damn, it’s about time.  Sara stretched her arms over her head, then dropped onto her bed, taking up as much of the available space as she could.  She felt tired, slightly sore...and very, very smug.  I’ve been wondering for more than a decade about the taste of his skin.  And now she knew not only that, but the weight of him on her, the feel of his fingers caressing her breast; the heat of him inside her, the break in his voice when he went over the edge.  All memories to be savored, treasured...and added to.  It hadn’t surprised her that Grissom was a thorough lover; it was inherent to his personality.  What had surprised her was how quickly he had set aside gentleness for intensity, but it had been a welcome surprise.  That many years of sexual tension were best served by the slow and in-depth lovemaking they’d enjoyed.  It had been amazing.  Sara suspected now that Grissom’s keeping her at arms’ length all those years had something to do with his ability to focus.  As the past few months had proved, once he turned his attention to someone or something, he gave all his attention.  Before, it had been his work.  Now...it’s me.  On some level, Sara reflected, that should creep her out, but it didn’t.  He can get a little obsessive, but this is special circumstances.  Once he’s back in a rhythm, instead of a holding pattern, we’ll both adjust.  She frowned, and rolled onto her side, snagging her lizard for a hug since Grissom wasn’t within reach.  We really need to talk about this.  Later this week, maybe.  In truth, there had scarcely been time lately, and the evening before had been reserved for fun, not serious discussion.  Okay.  Tuesday, then.  The smirk that kept sneaking up on her reappeared, and Sara curled a little tighter.  It had been a very long time for both of them, and there was nothing like a little tension release, on top of the emotional fulfillment.  And the best part is, we can do it again.  Sara tugged the sheet over herself, yawning and suddenly too tired to even pull off the pants.  Closing her eyes, she drifted off into a sated sleep, remembering the incredibly comforting feel of arms around her and a wide chest pressed against her back.  Oh yeah.        Grissom raised a hand to the Sidles’ doorbell, but before he could press the button, the door opened to reveal Ed.  “Saw you on the way out.  We really need to get you a key,” he said, standing aside so Grissom could come in.  “Later.”  Before Grissom could even ask where Ed was going at six on a Tuesday evening, Ed had disappeared through the garage door.  Chuckling a little, Grissom headed up to the main floor.  It was surprisingly quiet.  A faint smell of chicken in the air told him that the family had already eaten, and the living room was empty.  Grissom hung up his jacket in the closet and poked his head into the kitchen. and found it empty too.  But as he turned back, someone galloped down the stairs from the third floor.  “Oh, hi, Doctor G,” Kimmy said, going over to her backpack near the coat closet and rummaging in it.  “Aunt Sara’s in her room.”  “Thank you, Kimmy,” he answered gravely.  “How are you doing?”  She straightened, clutching a notebook, and flung her hair back.  “I have a book report,” she said in tones of deep disgust, rolling her eyes.  “I hate book reports.”  “Why’s that?” Grissom asked, waiting for her to start up the stairs first.  She glanced back at him mid-bound without losing her balance, a trick he envied.  “It makes the book no fun.”  Not a future literary critic, probably.  Grissom kept his amusement to himself as she went back into her room.  He glanced down the hallway; the door to Joey’s room was shut, though at this distance Grissom wasn’t certain if the wobbly-lettered sign actually said “DO NOT DISTURB” or “DO NOT DISTURP”.  Sara’s door, at the top of the third flight, was half-open, and Grissom could hear her speaking; he looked inside, and saw her standing with her back to him and her cellphone at her ear.  The sudden interest of his body was a little disconcerting.  Years of celibacy, down the drain.  It wasn’t that Sara hadn’t been tempting before; she’d tempted him almost since he’d met her, in fact.  But now that he knew…  Grissom suppressed his libido firmly, and focused on what Sara was saying, trying to figure out whether he should knock or just go away quietly until she was done.  But she sounded distressed, and he frowned.  “Toby, I can’t,” she said.  “My brother just left, and there’s no one who can watch the kids on ten minutes’ notice.”  She paused, listening.  “No, no one.  You’re just going to have to do this one without me--or I can come in later when he gets back--“  Doubts crowded into Grissom’s mind, but he ignored them as he pushed the door all the way open.  You’ve done this before.  It’s been a while, but you have.  Sara turned as he crossed her room, brows going up.  “I can watch them,” he said quietly.  She gave him the sort of look that questioned either his sanity or his determination, he wasn’t sure which, but he turned a hand palm-up, confirming his words.  She shrugged, then nodded.  “Scratch that, Toby, I have a volunteer.”  She said goodbye, closed the phone, and pursed her lips at him.  “You sure about this?”  “It’s a little late to back out now,” Grissom pointed out, and took the kiss her mouth seemed to be offering.  It pleased him a great deal that her eyes were slightly dazed when he was finished.  “What do I need to do?”  Sara took her hands from his waist, where they had ended up.  “Not a lot, actually; just make sure that they get to bed on time.  They know their routines, and if they give you any trouble, you can let them skip stuff.  Not brushing their teeth one night won’t kill them.”  She started stuffing files into her briefcase.  “Joey gets half an hour to read in bed, but he’s usually out in ten minutes; Kimmy gets an hour, and sometimes you have to turn off her light to make sure she puts the book down.”  Grissom nodded, storing the information.  “I have both your cell numbers.”  Sara closed the case, and then sighed.  “I’m sorry, Gil.  I really wanted to spend the evening with you.”  Grissom stuck his hands in his pockets.  “Relax, Sara.  Work is work.  We can always reschedule.”  She grinned at him, a little rueful, and picked the case up.  “I’ll hold you to that.  Lemme tell the rugrats that you’re in charge, and then I’m out of here.”  She went first to Joseph’s room.  Grissom took the opportunity to make use of the bathroom; when he emerged, her voice was coming from Kimmy’s room.  “I’m too old for a babysitter!” Kimmy was complaining, and Grissom stopped to listen.  “That’s true, but you’re not old enough to watch Joey on your own yet,” Sara countered in a reasonable tone.  “If this were a real emergency, then you could, but it’s not.  Anyway, Doctor G is really just here to keep an eye on things in case something happens, and to make sure that Joey gets to bed on time.  You’re old enough to put yourself to bed.”  Grissom felt his lips turn up at her cleverness, and took himself downstairs.  Sara hurried down a minute later, and bent over where he sat on the couch to give him one last kiss.  “You might have to help with homework,” she warned, “but they got most of it done before dinner.  Call if you need anything.”  She ruffled his hair, the same casual, loving gesture he’d seen her use on Ed, and was gone.  Grissom smoothed his hair back into place, secretly touched, and considered for a few moments.  He didn’t really anticipate any problems, but as time spent with Lindsey years ago had shown him, kids were unpredictable.  He ran through various scenarios in his head--injury, illness, fire--made sure his cellphone was still on his belt, and picked up a magazine.  Within fifteen minutes, Joey made his way down to the living room.  Grissom lowered the magazine and waved, and Joey waved back with elaborate casualness as he went over to the bookshelf that held some of the children’s books.  Grissom pretended to read as the little boy chose one, figuring that Joseph would take it back upstairs to his room.  Instead, Joey sat down on the couch next to Grissom and slid the book into Grissom’s lap.  He didn’t say anything, but the request was obvious.  Touched again, Grissom thought about asking whether Joey was done with his homework, and then decided it didn’t matter.  He opened the book and began to read out loud.  They went through three books, and were just finishing the third when Kimmy came downstairs, notebook in hand, and stuffed it back into her backpack.  Joey shut the book.  “I’m hungry,” he announced.  Kimmy straightened.  “You can have some fruit,” she said, in a big-sister voice.  Joey folded his arms and pouted, and a memory rose in Grissom’s mind, surprisingly crisp given how much time had passed--the teenaged girl from down the street who had looked after him when his mother was out.  Trish had handled his obsession with bugs with the aplomb of someone who had younger brothers, and had had the gift of being agreeable to tiny excursions from the rules that kept him from rebelling.  He decided to take a leaf from her book.  “Let’s see if there’s any ice cream left,” he said, pushing to his feet.  “Yesss!” Joey exclaimed, but Kimmy frowned.  “We’re only supposed to have healthy snacks on weekdays.”  Grissom shrugged casually.  “Nobody mentioned that rule to me.”  He watched as Kimmy wavered between insisting on the rules, and the temptation of ice cream; if she made a fuss, he decided, he would accede.  But then her eyes went merry, and she pursed her lips just like her aunt.  “Guess it doesn’t count, then.”  Grissom led them into the kitchen, hoping there was ice cream left; the kitchen gods smiled on him, and he found the remainder of the mint chip in the freezer.  He dished out small portions, mindful of the effect of sugar on small people, and the three of them sat around the kitchen island and ate peacefully.  Watching Joey get some on his nose, Grissom relaxed.  Trish had the right idea.      Contrary to Sara’s warning, and perhaps because of the ice cream, neither kid gave Grissom any trouble about their bedtime routines.  On request, Grissom watched as Joey brushed his teeth, and solemnly checked behind his dresser for monsters before closing his door almost all the way.  Kimmy was already in bed, so absorbed in her book that she didn’t even look up when Grissom passed by her door.  He returned to the main floor and his magazine, and finished three articles before heading back upstairs.  Kimmy was asleep, curled up under her covers with her book on the floor and her light out.  Joey had fallen asleep with the book on his chest, bare feet sticking out of rocket-ship pajamas that were getting too short.  Grissom removed the book and managed to tug the covers out from under the small limp body; Joseph didn’t even stir as Grissom covered him and turned out the light.  Grissom paused in the doorway, bemused by the protective feelings the sleeping child evoked.  He really had no desire for children of his own, but…Does she want them?  Not now, obviously, but later?  Not too much later--  It was something else they needed to talk about.  Ed came home just after eleven, looking tired but unsurprised to find Grissom in his living room; Grissom guessed that Sara had called her brother en route to work.  “Hey, man, thanks for looking after the spawn.”  Grissom set down the book he was reading--he’d been forced to raid the living room bookshelves for reading material by nine-thirty.  “Happy to help.  Just out of curiosity, where were you?”  Ed shed his overcoat, revealing something Grissom hadn’t seen even on Thanksgiving--a suit.  “Eh, major dinner party for some prospective funding sources.  Eat overpriced food and schmooze, you know how it is.”  Grissom snickered.  “Yeah, I do.”  He held up the book, which was about Renaissance art.  “May I borrow this?”  Ed hung up his coat and peered at the book.  “Oh, sure.  That was one of Jen’s.”  Grissom, having surmised as much, didn’t comment, instead closing it and standing up.  “I gotta go tell Kimmy I’m home,” Ed continued, heading for the stairs.  “She’s asleep,” Grissom noted, but Ed only nodded.  “I know.  I have to wake her up and tell her I’m back.  Ever since Jenny died--“  He shrugged and disappeared up the stairs.  Grissom watched him go, feeling a pang of sadness for a little girl who was still afraid for her remaining parent, and then went to fetch his coat, realizing suddenly that he was hungry.  He and Sara had planned to eat dinner together, and the ice cream was only a memory.  I’ll bet she didn’t bother to eat either, he thought with a touch of grim humor.  As he shrugged into his jacket, Ed came back down the stairs, having already shed his tie and coat.  “Here,” he said, and tossed something small.  Grissom caught it in one fist.  It was a key.  He looked back up at Ed, raising his brows.  The younger man grinned.  “It’ll save you having to wait for someone to come down and let you in all the time.”  Grissom frowned a little.  “Are you sure--I mean, Sara didn’t--“  “She wouldn’t,” Ed replied easily.  “She never lets me forget that this is my house.”  He rolled his eyes in exaggerated impatience.  “I swear, sometimes her ideas of what’s right are stronger than Joseph’s.”  Grissom had to chuckle.  “It can be an asset sometimes.”  Ed snorted.  “And a pain in the ass other times.”  A faint wail of “Daddyyyyy…” floated down the stairs, and he sobered.  “Oops, gotta go.”  “I’ll let myself out,” Grissom told him, and suited actions to words.  He pulled the key from the door and regarded it thoughtfully before putting it on his own keyring.  The handful of keys were an interesting comment on his life at the moment, he thought.  Keys to my apartment, my car, Sara’s house.  None of them permanent.  We do need to talk.  Folding his fingers around the keys, Grissom headed for his car.      Sara yawned as she shut the garage door behind her, wondering if she was going to stay awake long enough to get the shower she wanted so badly.  I hate to admit it, but I think I’m getting too old to work triple shifts.  Toby’s urgent summons to a crime scene on Tuesday had dropped her right into work, and she hadn’t even made it home on Wednesday, instead grabbing a change of clothes from her trunk and more coffee.  I barely even fit in a call to Gil.  But it was Thursday evening, she was home at last, and her bed was only a couple of floors away.  Ugh.  More stairs.  She made her way up the first flight, noting the quiet and figuring dully that the kids were out at practice or lessons or some such; she’d kind of lost track.  A light was on in Ed’s study, so she walked over to let him know she was back.  She leaned against the doorframe, but Ed, staring blankly at his monitor, didn’t look up.  This wasn’t unusual, but something in his expression troubled Sara slightly, and she rapped gently on the frame with one knuckle.  Ed blinked, shook himself, and looked up.  “Hey.”  “Hey.  What’s up?”  Ed chewed on his lip a moment, obviously hesitating, and then picked up a piece of paper from his desk and leaned over to hand it to her.  Sara sat down on the edge of a chair piled with files, her brows going up at the rich feel of the heavy paper, and read it.  Dear Dr. Sidle, it began.  Sara read it quickly, then looked up at Ed with astonishment, her fatigue receding for the moment.  “Whitney University?”  He shrugged, twisting his desk chair back and forth on its pivot.  “They want me to head up their research department.”  She knew that, the letter said so, but he was apparently not thinking quite clearly.  “You, an administrator?  They won’t know what hit them.”  Ed snorted without rancor and took the letter back.  “It’s a great offer.”  Sara set her elbows on her knees and folded her hands, letting them dangle between her legs.  “It’s an amazing offer.”  The stated salary had made her whistle silently.  “So what’s the problem?  You’ve been wanting to get back to California for years.”  Ed toyed absently with a pen, spinning it on his cluttered desk.  “Well, the environment will be a lot different.”  It was her turn to snort.  “Yeah.  Give me the real reason.”  His eyes met hers for the first time.  “You have to ask?”  Sara cocked her head, restricting her sympathy to her gaze.  “So take her with you.  She can transfer, and Whitney’s a better school than that third-rate community college.”  “Yeah.  If only it were that easy.”  Ed blew out a heavy breath.  “She hasn’t got the money to move, let alone to afford Whitney, and that assumes I could even talk her into it in the first place.”  Sara shrugged.  “Gracie’s got nothing keeping her here now, Ed.  She might accept a loan from you.  Or--“  She considered for a second.  “Maybe from me.”  Ed brightened a little.  “That’s a thought.”  He pointed at her.  “And when you go back to Vegas, we’d be closer.”   “If I go back to Vegas,” she corrected automatically, wondering anew if she would.  She regarded Ed for a moment, her lost-and-found brother.  She had come to him in grief, both of them mourning a loss, and in healing they had grown together; and now, she wanted him to get what both he and Gracie wanted.  Particularly with the new taste of her own happiness fresh on her tongue.  “I’ll talk to her, as soon as you make the offer.”  Rising, she patted his shoulder, and headed out of the office, pausing in the doorway to look back with a grin.  “Besides, doesn’t the university offer tuition discounts to family members?”  His eyes narrowed, and Sara walked quickly away, snickering.  The thwap of the flung pen against her shoulderblade only made her laugh harder.         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