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 story Sara remembers does exist--it is the haunting The Wind Between the Stars by Margaret Mahy, currently in print in one of her short story collections but also out of print in an edition illustrated by Brian Froud.  I've never seen the latter--it's quite rare--but I still want it.  The combination must be astounding.   If you were a reader of Cricket in its early years, you may also remember the story.      ********* Grissom trudged wearily out of the elevator. It was almost two in the morning, and while he was still on West Coast time, he was nonetheless exhausted, and glad to be back at his apartment. He propped his suitcase up next to his door and fumbled for his keys, barely able to keep his eyes open. He’d almost decided to leave his car at the airport one more day and take a cab home, but instead had bought a cup of coffee at a 7-Eleven on the way home--not that it had had much effect. Next time they ask for volunteers to get bumped to the next flight--don’t. You’re too old for this. Grissom shoved the door open and dragged his suitcase through, leaving it in the small entrance hall as he stripped off his jacket and stepped out of his shoes. His apartment was dark and silent, though thanks to the cleaning service it didn’t smell musty; he didn’t bother with lights, just moving through the living room towards his bedroom, wishing it was still early enough to call Sara. For that, he would stay awake. Not at this hour, though. She should be sound asleep. Besides, you talked to her earlier. They’d had no plans for the evening, but he’d called to tell her he was taking a later flight anyway. It was odd, feeling that he had to update someone on his plans and whereabouts, but a good sort of odd. It’s Sara. That’s what matters. He had his shirt unbuttoned by the time he got to the bedroom, but there was an extra scent in the air when he walked into the room, and with surprise muted by exhaustion he realized that Sara had made use of the spare key he’d given her. He stripped off his shirt and pants, peeled out of his socks, and without ceremony lay down on the bed, pulling back the covers just enough so that he could slide in next to the softly breathing form. Before he could touch her, Sara rolled over, putting an arm around his ribs and letting her head rest against his shoulder. “You okay?” she muttered without opening her eyes. “Yeah.” Grissom sighed with quiet contentment, letting all the stress of travel go with the rush of air, and gathered her into his own arms, bringing their legs together in a warm tangle. She was wearing a shirt but her legs were bare, and Grissom shivered at the sensation. “Good. Glad you’re back.” Sara pressed her face into his chest, and Grissom let his eyes close at last. Home. Sara woke warm. The feeling of a hand burrowed beneath her and a heavy head resting on her shoulder were rapidly becoming familiar, and she kept her eyes shut for the moment and simply savored the sensation. Y’know, it’s weird when you think about it, that we both like to cuddle--but hey, I’m not arguing. The only people she’d ever comfortably shared a bed with, even including her few previous lovers, had been her nephew and niece; when she’d first arrived in Virginia, the nightmares had been a lot more frequent, and many nights it had been easier to let one or the other of them curl up next to her. The small heavy sleepers had evoked only a desire to protect. She’d always felt trapped with another adult in the bed, as though there wasn’t enough space on the mattress for both of them. But not with Grissom. Hell, all I want to do is get closer. And the same seemed to be true for him. Sara didn’t know anything about his past love life, aside from the fact that his last lover was years in the past, and she didn’t particularly care to know more. But she’d deduced, from the moment when Grissom began touching her on a regular basis, that he was tactilely sensitive. He loved to touch her, that was obvious. And the contact seemed to feed a craving in him. And you know you love it. Sara opened her eyes, blinking a little at the morning light, and glancing over at the clock. Damn. She had just over an hour before she had to be at work, and Grissom was still sound asleep. She wasn’t sure what time he’d finally gotten home, but she knew it had been pretty late. Oh well. To be continued. It took her a little bit of effort to wriggle out from under Grissom without waking him, but eventually she was free, and he snuffled and sighed and fell deeper asleep. Sara stood up and stretched, then had to bend over and kiss his temple--he was just too cute to resist. Sighing, she pulled the blanket up over his shoulder and went to take a hasty shower. It was midmorning before her phone rang. She was in one of the layout rooms, looking over a pile of trash, and she snapped off her glove before picking up her cellphone. “Sidle.” A second of silence, and then Grissom’s voice, amused and still a little sleepy. “Good morning. You’re not alone?” Sara glanced over at the other agent sorting through the garbage. “Not at the moment, no.” She waved to him and pointed at the door, and he nodded. “Hold on a sec.” She pushed through the door and out into the hallway, which was currently empty. “There. How’re you doing?” “I’m fine. I missed you when I woke up,” Grissom said softly. “But I was very glad to find you here last night.” Sara couldn’t help smiling. “Well, I missed you. That seemed the best way to see you as quickly as possible.” He chuckled. “I appreciate it, believe me. Would you like to come over for dinner tonight?” “How about you come over to our place instead?” Sara countered. “The kids have been asking about you.” Grissom hesitated just a fraction, but his response was genuinely warm. “I’d like that. What time?” “Sixish. Ed says that if you come over he’ll make spaghetti.” “I’ll definitely be there, then,” Grissom said with amusement. “Ed’s spaghetti sauce, if properly applied, could bring about world peace.” “Yeah, but then we’d all reek of garlic,” Sara pointed out, pleased that Grissom sounded more relaxed than during the past week. “There are worse fates.” He let out a little sigh. “I’ll see you tonight, then?” “Definitely,” Sara assured him. They said goodbye and hung up, Sara smiling as she closed the phone. She knew why he had hesitated before agreeing to dinner at her brother’s house, and she sympathized. It’s been ten days, after all. But she was nothing if not proactive. Toby Washington’s office was two floors away; Sara simply opened her phone again. “Toby, hey. Listen, we’re checking the trash now but you know as well as I do that we’re probably going to come up empty. Mind if I take off a little early?” Grissom wiped condensation from the mirror and looked at his reflection, a quick glimpse before the glass steamed up again. His hair was wet from his shower, and he’d scrubbed off the faint traces of lipgloss, but he still looked thoroughly...pounced, he decided. The grin was inevitable. Well, I can’t remember the last time I was pounced. Sara’s call to tell him she was on her way over had been a delightful surprise, and while he hadn’t wanted to assume anything, he had hoped. And his hopes had been greatly fulfilled when he’d opened his door to her knock. Her kiss had been intense and deep and very, very serious, and Grissom had barely managed to kick the door shut. When she finally let them get some air, he had grinned at her. “Sara Sidle, you blew off work for me?” Her answering grin had been blinding. “Shut up.” And that was pretty much the last thing either of them had said for a while, at least intelligibly. Sara had backed him into his bedroom and had her way with him, and he hadn’t protested at all. Now Grissom gave his rapidly fogging image a smug look and reached for the comb. Just as he finished running it through his hair, the shower shut off and the frosted glass door swung open. “Could you hand me a towel, please?” Sara asked. Grissom turned to admire. “I’m not sure I want to obscure any of your beauty,” he teased. Sara ran her hands over her dripping hair and gave him a harmless glare, and he conceded and fetched her a towel from the rack, taking the opportunity to dry her himself. “It’s almost five.” “Won’t take me long to get ready,” Sara answered, slipping the towel higher to squeeze water out of her hair. “Do you want to drive or should I?” The weather was stormy, with sudden winds and spurts of rain, but the townhouse smelled delicious the minute they stepped inside, the tang of tomato sauce deepened by spices and garlic and underlain by something sweeter. As Grissom followed Sara up the stairs to the main floor, Joey jumped up from his spread of Matchbox cars on the living room floor, and startled Grissom by giving him an enthusiastic hug. Grissom returned it automatically, looking down at the small dark head in surprise. “I missed you,” Joey said against Grissom’s abdomen, then looked up. “Did you bring us stuff?” Grissom felt a laugh escape him as Sara’s expression went from tenderness to amused outrage. “Joseph! That’s rude!” Kimmy, reading on the couch, rolled her eyes, and Joey let Grissom go to face his aunt. “But I want to know!” Sara put her hands on her hips. “That may be true, but it’s not a polite question.” Grissom felt a still-unfamiliar warmth behind his breastbone. Joseph was a straightforward child; he had meant the statement as much as the question. Grissom glanced over at Sara and raised a brow in question, but she shook her head, and he didn’t mention the goodies he had tucked away in his jacket pockets. Joey huffed, but at Sara’s stern glare he turned back. “I’m sorry for being rude,” he recited dutifully. “Thank you,” Grissom replied, keeping his face straight. The ritual completed, Joey took his hand and dragged him over to the couch, so Grissom could sit and hear all about soccer practice and school. As Joseph ran down a little, Grissom asked Kimmy about her week as well, and she related her first horseback riding lesson with pride. At some point he looked up for Sara, finding her leaning against one of the bookcases with her arms crossed and a soft smile on her face. For a second his memory rose up and superimposed her expression from earlier in the day--eyes bright with mischief, cheeks flushed with passion and anticipation--but then he tucked the image away, to dwell on later, still so grateful that he had it at all. Dinner was delicious, as Grissom had expected, and while the first half of dinner was taken up by the children’s questions about moving and California, the kids eventually left the table while the adults lingered over second helpings and debated research ethics. About half an hour later Joseph returned, leaning against Sara until she pulled him onto her lap, and he sat quietly for almost ten minutes before sliding off and returning to his play. Grissom watched, noting the easy way Sara held her nephew, offering the reassurance he was silently requesting. And when they did the dishes, Grissom scrubbing and Sara drying, he took a deep breath and asked. “Do you want children?” Sara blinked, obviously taken aback, but her eyes met his without flinching. “No, not really. I love Ed’s kids, but I...kind of have other plans for my life.” Grissom dipped his head, acknowledging, and feeling an odd mixture of relief and disappointment. Sara’s gaze didn’t waver. “Do you?” He paused to organize his words before speaking. “While I believe any child with your genes would be an asset to humanity, children are not one of my ambitions.” Sara pursed her lips, a little humor in her eyes. “In other words, you don’t want them either.” Grissom shook his head. “As you say, I have other plans.” He hadn’t seriously thought about children since late adolescence; they were an abstract that had never become tangible. He rinsed out the pasta pot and handed it to Sara. “Thank you,” she said, and the tone of her voice made it clear that the gratitude wasn’t for the pot. Puzzled, Grissom raised his brows at her. “You didn’t just assume that I wanted kids,” she explained, looking slightly embarrassed. “Sometimes it seems like everybody I talk to thinks my biological clock should be going off. When I tell them I’m not interested in children they look at me like I’m a freak.” Grissom reached out and took the damp towel from her hands, dried off his own, and then pulled Sara into his arms. “You’re not a freak,” he murmured, amused and tender. “You’re a strong woman who knows what she wants out of life. Children shouldn’t automatically be part of every female’s plans.” Sara sighed, resting her head on his shoulder, then snickered. “Well, you’re right about my knowing what I want.” Her hands, which had come to rest on the small of his back, slid lower. “And what d’you know, I got it.” Her gentle squeeze, combined with her words, made Grissom laugh. He tilted his head far enough to place a kiss under her ear. “That reminds me, Ms. Sidle. Are you free for a sleepover again tonight?” He reached back to capture one of her hands, and pulled it up to his mouth. “No strings attached,” he added, letting his lips brush her palm but only half-meaning the seduction. “Just holding you all night would be fine.” The corners of Sara’s mouth were twitching. “And pass up an opportunity for great sex? We have years of celibacy to make up for here, Gil.” But under the teasing he could see that she understood the offer, and the kiss she gave him when she pulled away her hand was sweet and loving. “Ew,” someone said in passing, and they parted enough to see Joey walking casually past to fill a glass with ice from the fridge. Grissom shrugged, and let Sara go, signing a swift “Well?” behind her nephew’s back. “After they go to bed,” she signed back, taking the towel from where Grissom had left it on the counter and then speaking out loud. “No comments from the peanut gallery, please.” Joey, adding water to the ice, either didn’t hear her or chose to ignore her, and Sara watched him go before pulling a pot lid from the drainer. “Being at your place will certainly cut down on the interruptions.” Grissom fished a wooden spoon from the soapy water and snagged the sponge for scrubbing. “That too.” They finished the dishes in peace, and as Sara hung up the dishtowel Grissom went to fetch the presents he had in fact brought back. If Joseph looked smug as well as delighted at the gift of a little model sailboat, Grissom didn’t mind, and Kimmy was pleased with the palm-sized cedar jewelry box, opening it to sniff the sweet scent. “You spoil them,” Sara murmured in Grissom’s ear as they sat together on the couch, watching Joey show off his new prize to Ed. Grissom shrugged, unconcerned, and Sara just let her hand slide through the crook of his arm. Later, musing over cups of cocoa at Grissom’s apartment, they somehow started telling the most embarrassing stories they could think of from their childhoods. Sara leaned back against his arm where they sat, fully clothed, against the headboard of his bed, savoring the fact that he was willing to share with her. “I took one hand from the handlebars, managed to signal for a right turn without losing my balance, and completely forgot to actually turn,” Grissom said, finishing his tale of learning to ride his first bike. “I ran straight into the tree and bounced off the seat.” He grinned, and Sara laughed, almost losing her grip on her mug; she could definitely envision the curly-haired kid from Rosalie’s photos doing just that. “I take it you weren’t hurt?” “My dignity more than anything,” he admitted. “Your turn.” She swallowed a sip of cocoa. “I’ve told you all the good ones. The only other one I can think of was missing a dive at the pool once and landing smack on my back on the surface, and I was too dizzy to think it was funny.” “Did the handsome lifeguard have to rescue you?” Grissom teased. She flashed him a smile. “Was he fifteen years older and devastatingly handsome? ‘Fraid not. She was probably fifty, and barely taller than me. And I got a huge lecture in the bargain.” The wind, which had continued all evening, rose again, howling around the building, and without even flickering the lights went out. They both blinked in the sudden darkness, though the curtained window was a patch of faintest illumination. “I have a flashlight in my kit,” Grissom said, but as he began to pull away Sara put a hand on his thigh. “We don’t need the lights yet, and they might come back on in a minute.” She listened to the rush of air past the window. “This kind of reminds me of one of the picture books I read as a kid.” Grissom settled his arm back around her. “What was it about?” “Wind. Not a storm wind, though.” Sara looked back at the memory, slightly surprised at its clarity. “For a long time it was my favorite story, I used to get it out of the library all the time.” She remembered only one of the illustrations, but it was vivid--an elderly, bent little woman and the stern figure behind her, and the glimpse of a garden out the window. “The wind came from between the stars, went three times around the world, and left again. It carried people and animals in it, the wind I mean--I think it had the twelve dancing princesses, among others.” She sighed a little. “It would take people with it, if they wanted to go.” “Oh?” Grissom asked. “Yeah. But it was forever. They mustn’t hope to come back again, I think that was the line.” She bit her lip, looking back at memory instead of into the darkness. “Every time the wind would rise before a storm, I’d go out in it, hoping that it was the star wind. I wanted to go with it so badly.” Grissom’s arm tightened around her, as if at the mere thought of losing her. “Not just for the adventure, I take it,” he said softly. Sara shook her head. “No,” she confirmed, equally softly. “I wanted to get away.” Grissom’s hand moved in small circles on her abdomen, tiny soothing motions. “I could see you in it,” he said after a moment. “Hair rippling, and your eyes lit up, swimming in air.” He sounded wistful, and Sara laughed a little. “Maybe,” she agreed. “Would you go now, if the wind came through?” he asked, almost in a whisper. Sara turned her head, and kissed his cheek. “Hell no. I like it right here.” He sighed, a long low sound, then took the cup from her hand and set it on the table next to the bed, unhampered by the dark. “Good,” he whispered, and kissed her thoroughly. Sara tasted chocolate and desire, and smiled as she gave herself up to it. This is exactly where I want to be.      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