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.      ********* “You sure about this?” Ed looked doubtfully at the small shop. “It doesn’t look...I mean...” Sara took his arm and tugged firmly. “Ed, trust me. This is the place. You don’t want to get her anything ordinary, do you?” “Well, no.” Ed let Sara tow him into the estate store. “But I was thinking of the big jeweler’s at the other end of the mall.” “I know.” Sara stopped three steps over the threshold, lowering her voice to match the hush and surveying the freestanding wood-and-glass cases. “But that’s totally wrong for Gracie. You wanted my advice, Ed--this is it. At least look here before you go down there.” Ed shrugged. “Okay.” The shop had a few customers browsing in it, mostly elderly people in subtly expensive clothing, and the employees were all older than Sara as well. The siblings walked slowly in among the cases, looking down at vintage watches and antique necklaces before coming to a long row of rings. After a minute or so, an employee ghosted up on the other side of the counter, steps soundless on the thick carpet. “May I help you choose something today?” Sara looked up. “He’s shopping for an engagement ring,” she said, jerking a thumb at her brother. “I’m just looking, for starters,” Ed added hastily. The salesman, tall and turbaned, nodded in understanding. “Of course. All our rings are unique, certified; I’ll be happy to bring out anything that catches your eye.” Ed bent further down to peer at the rings, making a vaguely assenting noise; Sara flashed a grin at the salesman. “Give us a few minutes?” He smiled back, small and genuine. “Certainly. If you need anything just let me know.” He moved away as Sara looked down as well. As promised, the array of jewelry under the glass held no two alike; there were rings gemmed and ungemmed, wide and narrow, gold and silver, some obviously antique and some merely vintage. She dismissed a good two-thirds of them immediately as being either unsuitable as engagement rings or unsuitable for Gracie, but there were plenty of possibilities left. “I dunno,” Ed said in an unhappy voice. “There’s so many of them.” “If you see one you like, think of Gracie’s hands and whether it would look good on her,” Sara suggested. “After all, you have to look at it too.” He snorted gently at her and went on perusing. Sara scanned the rows of sparkle, quickly coming up with a few possibilities but holding them in reserve until asked for. She had no idea what kind of ring Ed had gotten for Jenny--she’d never seen it up close--but knew that at the time he would not have been able to afford anything in this shop’s price range. Ed cocked his head, still staring down, and Sara could see his shoulders relaxing a little. She sat down on one of the small padded stools provided for customers and waited. A few minutes later, he nodded. Before either of them could say anything, the salesman reappeared. “Do you see anything you like?” he inquired with another smile, teeth white against his beard. Ed nodded again, decisively, and pointed to two of the velvet flats that held the rings. The salesman brought them both out and laid them on the top of the case. Three of his choices were ones that Sara had spotted as well--two diamonds, one set in gold and one in platinum, and one of rosy gold with a diamond surrounded by a ring of tiny emeralds. The fourth was gold as well, with a huge amethyst, and Sara gave Ed a skeptical look when he picked it up to examine it. His returned glance was somewhat sheepish. “I like the purple,” he explained. She shook her head. “It’s pretty, but it’s not an engagement ring,” she said. “At least, not a conventional one.” “You think Gracie wants conventional?” Ed asked, turning the ring so the stone caught the light. Sara pursed her lips. “Not entirely, but...it’s your choice, Ed, but I don’t think that would really suit her.” She held out her own hand in demonstration. “She has very slender fingers. It’s too heavy.” Ed looked skeptical, but handed the ring to the jeweler. “What about these?” “All good,” she answered at once. “I like that one too.” She pointed at another gold with two smaller diamonds flanking a larger one. “It’s nice, but it’s a bit worn,” Ed pointed out judiciously; the edges of the stones were indeed rounded with time and wear. “The stones could be recut,” the salesman noted. “Or replaced, though that would detract from the charm of the piece.” “Nah.” Ed picked up the platinum one. “I don’t like it that much.” He examined each of the three rings one after the other, then turned to his sister. “They’re pretty, but I want to look around a little more before I make a decision.” “Of course,” the salesman repeated easily, and replaced the rings in their holders. “Would you like to place any of these on hold?” Ed considered for a moment, then shook his head. “No thanks.” He led Sara out of the store and down the main corridor of the mall, his long stride exactly like her own. “So are you and Doctor G going to go shopping too?” he asked as they passed a shoe store. Sara shot him a sharp look. “Nooo. We haven’t even discussed getting married.” Ed frowned a little, a thoughtful look. “Do I need to yank him into a back alley and talk to him?” The image made Sara hoot with sudden laughter. “Hell no. Seriously, Ed, it’s not that much of an issue for me. I want to be with him. Marriage would be…nice, but it’s not necessary.” “Mm,” Ed said, and elbowed her lightly. “Heathen.” She nudged back. “Prude.” The potential rumpus was derailed by their arrival at the big jewelry store. It was as opulent as the estate shop, but much flashier, and a saleslady with perfect makeup pounced on Sara the second she crossed the threshold. “Welcome to Top Hat Jewelers! What can I help you find today?” Sara eyed her sardonically. “Talk to him.” She pointed at her brother, who looked less than enthusiastic. Without missing a beat, the woman turned to Ed. “Who are you shopping for, sir?” Ed sighed, his face softening a little as he looked down at her; she was pretty. “I’m looking at engagement rings.” The saleslady’s eyes flicked back to Sara, who shook her head. “Not for me,” she clarified. The woman’s smile became a little more genuine. “You’re here to offer moral support?” Ed rolled his eyes at Sara’s snicker. “More like the feminine viewpoint.” The saleslady chuckled. “Well, come with me, and we’ll see if we can’t find something that you will both approve of.” The store had a good selection, Sara had to give it that, and the saleslady--Margot, by her nametag--toned down the high-pressure charm as Ed browsed, but everything in the cases was shiny-new and not very individual. This stuff is more about status symbols and carat size, Sara realized as she glanced down into a case of solitaire pendants. There were a few genuinely creative pieces, but most of them weren’t suitable as engagement rings either. She picked up a set of ring sizers and tried them idly on her fingers as her brother examined five or six selections, all of them elegant enough to pass her own basic muster, though she really preferred a couple of the antique ones. Give it a rest, Sidle, he’s not shopping for you. The platinum band and brightly cut stone he had in his hand at that moment, for instance, would grace--heh--Gracie’s hand beautifully if he chose it. Sara sighed a little, and put the ring sizers back down. Ed glanced sharply her way and then went back to his perusal, and she leaned against one of the cases and stared idly at a watch display. She’d answered Ed’s question honestly, but now she realized that a small part of her did feel wistful at the idea of marriage. It’s silly. I know I have Gil. Dressing up in frilly clothes to swap rings and vows won’t change that, and God knows that getting married is no guarantee these days that a relationship will actually last. But-- She couldn’t help it. It was too ingrained. Part of her psyche wanted the promises, the formality--the reassurance. They hadn’t discussed it, not at all, and Sara wasn’t prepared to bring the subject up. We’ve only just gotten together, she reasoned. And I don’t want him to think I’m needy or something-- “Hey, Sar?” Ed’s voice broke into her thoughts. “C’mere and tell me what you think.” Sara abandoned musing for tact and went to see what he had. Grissom had just finished buttoning his shirt when his cellphone rang. Striding back out into his living room, he scooped up the phone and noted the caller’s number with pleasure as he opened it. “Hello, Sara.” “Hey.” The flat tone of her voice made his incipient smile fade. “What’s the matter?” Grissom asked, leaning his hip against the table. “I’m going to have to cancel dinner tonight,” Sara said, sounding almost angry. “I’m sorry, Gil.” He frowned at nothing, suddenly concerned. “That’s fine, but why?” For a moment he thought she wasn’t going to answer, but then she sighed. “Um. Cramps.” Grissom felt one brow go up. “Sara, you do know I want to see you regardless--“ “Yeah, I know.” She laughed a little, but without much humor. “Believe me, I appreciate it. But at the moment I’m--“ Her voice broke off in a little gasp, and then resumed, sounding strained. “At the moment I’m curled up in bed praying that the painkillers kick in this time. If I try to walk anywhere I’ll probably throw up; I’m definitely not safe to drive.” “Oh.” Grissom suddenly felt himself to be awkwardly male and excluded. While he could discuss menses in the abstract with the cool detachment of the scientist, his personal experience with the function was sparse. “Will you be…okay?” Sara laughed again, this time a little more genuinely. “It’ll pass, it always does. But I’m basically useless for the next few hours.” “Huh. All right.” Grissom bit back a sigh, disappointed at the loss of their evening, but also somewhat worried about Sara despite her reassurances. “Get some rest, then. We’ll reschedule later.” “Right.” She grunted. “Maybe we can meet for breakfast or something before your flight. I’m really sorry about this.” “No apologizing for biological functions,” he said with asperity, to make her smile even if he couldn’t see it. “I’ll talk to you later.” Grissom closed the phone slowly, feeling disappointed. He was scheduled to leave for Nevada the next day, and to go from there to California for another ten days; the prospect of not seeing Sara at all before leaving was unpleasant in the extreme. He was trying to figure out what to do with his evening when his eyes fell on his keyring, gleaming faintly on the little table by the door. Hmm. Think outside the box. He considered for a moment, then sat down at his computer and did some quick research. Ten minutes later, he tucked in his shirt, grabbed wallet, jacket, and keys, and left. He had an errand to run. Grissom hesitated a moment before putting his new key into the lock on the Sidles’ front door, but finally went ahead. Ed wouldn’t have given it to me if he hadn’t meant me to use it. The sound of television and the spicy scent of tomato sauce filled the stairwell as Grissom closed the door behind him. Within seconds, a small tousled head was peering through the spindles at him. “It’s Doctor G,” Joseph reported, presumably to his sister. Grissom waved, and began climbing the stairs. As his own head cleared the floor, he saw Kimmy fixing him with a suspicious gaze. “How’d you get in?” she demanded. Grissom stepped onto the main floor. “Your father gave me a key,” he said mildly, and her face cleared. “Oh. I thought Joey left the door open again.” This earned a huff and an eye-roll from her brother, but he flopped back down on the carpet in front of the TV without additional protest. “What are you watching?” Grissom asked. “The Dark Crystal,” Kimmy said absently, her attention already going back to the screen. It looked interesting, but Grissom had other business. He glanced across the room; Ed’s study door was closed, which meant he was in it and didn’t want to be disturbed. “When your dad comes out, let him know I’m here, okay?” he asked casually, and Kimmy nodded without looking up. Grissom shifted the bag he was carrying to the other hand, and climbed more stairs. He knocked lightly on Sara’s door before pushing it open. She was lying on her bed in a fetal position, wearing a blouse and a slip but no skirt, and he could tell by the tension in her shoulders that she was not asleep. As he stepped into the room she lifted her head, blinking blearily, and her face was drawn with pain. “Gil? What are you doing here?” “Are your painkillers working yet?” he asked softly, ignoring her question and rummaging in the bag as he walked to her bed. Sara grimaced. “Not really, I took ‘em too late.” She winced. “Usually I can tell when this is going to happen, but it snuck up on me this time.” Her voice still sounded strained, and he didn’t like it. Grissom took a box from his bag and opened it, then bent to plug the heating pad’s cord into the nearest outlet, thumbing the controls to the second-highest setting. “Here.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, behind Sara’s back, and leaned over to settle the pad against her abdomen, just below the arms she had folded against her chest. “What?” she asked, looking down. “Oh--” “Heat helps relax muscles, you know that,” Grissom noted, satisfied when she didn’t push it away. “You should have one of these.” Sara shrugged a little. “I never think of it except when this happens, and it’s only a few times a year.” She made the same small grunting sound he’d heard over the phone, and it was his turn to wince. Her skin was pale and damp, and her mouth tight; she was clearly in a great deal of pain. How women put up with this kind of thing is beyond my understanding. Cautiously, Grissom shifted his position and laid a hand on the small of Sara’s back, rubbing lightly at the taut muscles. She made a small gasping noise, but didn’t protest, so he leaned in at a slightly awkward angle and started rubbing with both hands. Sara said nothing, only whimpering slightly when his thumbs dug into the dents along her spine, but Grissom figured that if she wanted him to stop she would speak up. Gradually the knots loosened, as did her hunched curl; eventually, Sara sighed and slowly relaxed, reaching back to halt the hand still stroking her back. “Thanks,” she said thickly. Grissom just brushed her tangled hair off her forehead, then pulled himself onto the bed entirely and sat back against the headboard. Sara rolled halfway over and put her head in his lap, her movements slow and languid. Her eyes were sleepy, but Grissom could see color returning to her face. “Better?” he asked quietly. She sighed again, and smiled. “Much. The endorphins are kicking in.” She fumbled with the heating pad for a moment, shutting it off and pushing it aside. “How’d you know to do all that? Ex-girlfriend?” Grissom shook his head, and stroked her hair again. “Research. The Internet is a wonderful thing.” Sara snickered weakly. Tentatively Grissom reached down and placed a hand on her abdomen. The skin was shockingly hot where her blouse had ridden up, thanks to the heating pad, but he didn’t think she’d actually burned herself. Recalling more of his research, Grissom started rubbing again, with the lightest pressure he could manage. Sara grunted and tensed, but then relaxed again under his touch. “Ohhhh.” When he stopped, she was as limp as a noodle, and--he judged--almost three-quarters asleep. Grissom settled his shoulders more comfortably, and began stroking her hair once more. “Have to do that for you sometime,” Sara said in a slurred voice, and Grissom smiled and forbore to point out that he lacked the necessary organ--he knew what she meant. “The heart does not a tally keep,” he murmured instead, and listened to her breathing slow into sleep. On impulse, Sara listened to the message again. It was nothing special, but still she smiled as Grissom’s voice spoke in her ear. “I landed safely, and I’m going straight to the lab to see if I can catch the director. You know how to reach me.” A pause, and then the shy admission. “I miss you already.” Sara sighed, and closed her phone. “I miss you too,” she muttered to herself, still a little pissed at having missed the call. But I can call him back later. Setting down the cell, she put her hands on her hips and stared around the big room. It was hers, certainly, but not for much longer. Time to do something about this. Quickly she shed her work clothes and hung them up, dressing in a soft pair of worn jeans and her favorite Niels Bohr t-shirt. A good third of her stuff was still in boxes in Ed’s basement, along with old toys and Jenny’s clothes, but there was plenty that could be packed now. She trotted down three flights of stairs for the empty boxes she knew were stored in the laundry room, and breezed back upstairs, collecting a roll of packing tape and her niece’s puzzled stare in passing. As she expected, she had barely filled half a box with books when Kimmy poked her head around the door. “Aunt Sara?” Sara looked up and waved a textbook at her. “C’mon in.” Kimmy did so, slipping past the empty boxes to perch on Sara’s bed. “What are you doing?” Sara eschewed the obvious answer and replied to the real question. “I’m getting ready to move.” Kimmy was silent a moment. “Back to Las Vegas?” “Yep.” Sara closed the flaps of the box and ripped off a strip of tape. “Can you hand me the black marker from my desk?” The girl rose to collect the pen and handed it to her aunt before settling back down. “Are you going soon?” Sara scribbled “BOOKS” on the box, capped the pen, and shook her head. “Not for at least a month, kiddo. I’m just getting an early start on things.” Kimmy nodded and pulled her legs up so she could rest her arms on her knees. “Dad says we’re moving to Los Angeles this summer.” Sara smiled up at her. “Yeah. You’re going to love it--lots of sun and surf, and cute boys.” Kimmy’s mouth curved a little before she sobered again and watched Sara wrap more tape around the box. “But what about snow?” Sara gave her a sympathetic glance. “Not a lot of snow in L.A., no, but I bet your dad will take you skiing if you ask him--he’s always loved doing that. And sailing.” “And horses?” Sara grinned. “Lots of horseback trails outside the city. No problem there.” Kimmy nodded, and as Sara carried the box to an empty spot along one wall, arranged an empty one in its place. “I don’t think I want to go.” Sara regarded the drooping girl, and sat down on the bed, holding out an arm for a cuddle. Kimmy nestled against Sara, letting her hair fall over her face. “It’s hard, leaving everything familiar,” Sara agreed. “But you’ll find lots of new things, and make new friends. And you can e-mail your old ones here.” Kimmy pushed her head into Sara’s side. “You won’t be there,” she said with a hint of resentment. “You’ll be with him.” Sara squeezed her gently. “That’s true. But I’ll be a lot closer than if I stayed here. You can come to visit me, and I know I’ll be visiting you.” She stroked the thin arm under her hand, realizing how much she was going to miss her family, and swallowed. “I was never going to stay forever, kiddo.” Kimmy didn’t answer, and they sat still for a while, just being together. “Will I have to call him Uncle Gil?” Kimmy asked at last. Sara snickered. “Only if you want to. ‘Doctor G’ will do just fine, he’s used to that.” She wondered abruptly what she was going to say if Kimmy asked when they were going to get married; Sara wasn’t ashamed of her choices, but explaining them to someone not yet twelve was something she wasn’t sure she was up to at the moment. Particularly when it’s not my kid. But Kimmy sighed, and straightened, giving Sara a slightly watery smile. “Can I help?” “Did you finish your homework?” Sara countered with a grin. Kimmy rolled her eyes. “All except the vocabulary stuff, and I always do that when I eat breakfast.” “Then sure.” Sara squeezed her one more time, because she still could. “I’d love it.”      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