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.   Apologies for last week's hiatus; I'm back on track now and expecting no further delays.  Thanks for your patience!    ********* Grissom stood in the shadowy spot formed by a burnt-out light overhead, watching the activity on the other side of the DNA lab and shaking his head with a mixture of embarrassment and amusement.  I should have known.  The breakroom windows showed clearly the two figures perched shakily on chairs as they tried to hang a banner from the ceiling.  He couldn’t make out the entire thing, but he could see enough to know that it probably said Welcome back Grissom.  Beyond Greg and Gen was a sheet cake on the table, and Grissom found himself hoping that they didn’t drop the banner on top of it--or fall on it themselves.  Betty was brewing a fresh pot of coffee and teasing the workers, judging by the grin on her face, and as Grissom observed unseen Abdul came striding into the room, glancing at his watch and admonishing them.  Grissom wondered if his second-in-command disapproved of the surprise, but then changed his mind when Abdul gestured Gen down from her perch and took her place.  His longer arms made easy work of fastening the banner into place.  Still Grissom lingered in the shadow, feeling oddly uncertain.  He hated having a fuss made over himself; in the past, he might have gone briskly in and damped the celebration as quickly as possible.  But he kept remembering the fun of setting up the surprise for Greg when the younger man had passed his CSI proficiency, and the moment of true unity when they’d all gathered to congratulate him.  Sometimes it’s not about the person being celebrated, he thought.  It’s about the people doing the celebrating.  And whether it was about him or not, the fact that his team had gone to the time and trouble of putting a welcome-back together was making his chest ache pleasurably.  He’d gone away without much thought about them aside from the hope that they would manage in his absence; until Greg’s first phone call, he’d never considered that they might actually miss him.  Might as well make the best of it.  A voice behind him made him straighten.  “Hey, boss.”  “Nick,” Grissom said comically as he turned, “I haven’t been your boss in over three years.”  “Eh, details,” Nick said, beaming; Grissom rather thought Nick wanted to hug him, but his former subordinate settled for a strong handshake instead.  “Damn, Griss, Catherine was right--you look great!”  “A vacation can do that,” Grissom replied, keeping his face relatively straight but returning the handshake with pleasure.  It was very good to see Nick; Grissom was again realizing how much he had missed the lab and its people, beneath his life in Virginia.  “How are things?”  Nick shrugged easily.  “Same old, same old.”  He too turned to watch the activity in the breakroom.  “Guess it’s not much of a surprise now, huh?”  Grissom smirked a little as Warrick and Catherine joined the night shift, Catherine immediately going over to rearrange the spread of paper plates and napkins.  “I can pretend, if necessary.”  Nick shot him a quick look, but didn’t comment on Grissom’s apparent lack of dismay.  “I told them you wouldn’t want a big fuss, but Greg and Cath wouldn’t listen.”  “Of course not.”  Grissom cocked his head.  “Should I go over now, or wait to be fetched?”  Nick flashed him another smile.  “Actually, I’m supposed to be meeting you in the parking lot and luring you in there.”  He glanced at his watch.  “In about three minutes.”  “Ah.  Well, far be it from me to break the rules.”  Grissom gestured at his office down the hall.  “Shall we wait there?  You can always claim I insisted on stopping first.”  So they dawdled in Grissom’s office for a few minutes, Grissom listening to Nick’s rundown of cases with fresh interest.  All else aside, I needed a break, he realized with some surprise.  Grief and depression had made work his sole outlet; time away from it had renewed his curiosity and sense of purpose.  As Grissom expected, the breakroom was dark as they approached it, Nick going through his rather lame spiel of picking up a file he’d left there.  But Grissom didn’t have to feign surprise entirely when the lights snapped on; it wasn’t just the people he’d seen a moment before, but also Robbins, Brass, and a handful of techs, all of them crowding the small room to cheer him.  Grissom found his throat tightening a little at the noise and the happy faces, and he didn’t try to stop the smile.  It was good to be back.        We got Mom settled, finally, Grissom’s e-mail said, and Sara smiled as she reread it for the second time.  Grissom’s messages were no substitute for the man himself, but they were better than nothing, and in a moment of loneliness she’d decided to read over his recent ones.  Susan was right, it went on.  She was immediately absorbed in getting everything arranged the way she wanted it, and in making friends with the Deaf residents she didn’t already know.  I am satisfied, if not happy, to see that the security measures are strong; she isn’t yet at the stage that requires an alarm bracelet, but it’s quite difficult for anyone to leave the building without passing under the nose of a staff member.  And the gardens here are sufficient and enclosed.  Susan and Jack will be visiting as usual, which is also greatly reassuring.  I know I can rely on them to tell me if something is wrong, long before Mom will let me know.  And the staff is alert and charged to pass on any concerns.  Still...I wish it all weren’t necessary.  Sara sighed, grieving for both Grissom and his elegant mother.  She hardly knew Rosalie, but it hurt all the same to know that the older woman was losing her grip on life.  And she positively ached for Grissom.  But he’s not alone in dealing with it.  And he doesn’t ever have to be.  She scrolled further down.  Work has, not surprisingly, changed little from when I left.  The night shift is a cohesive unit, my presence isn’t missed there, and even though it’s only been a week (and much of that taken up with paperwork) my new position seems to fit well.  Isabeau seems to be using me as a source of expertise as well as the resident entomologist, sending me out to advise and teach on the odder or more difficult cases.  She claims that I have more experience than all the shifts put together, and while she exaggerates, it’s true that I’m the only person on staff who’s handled both a body embedded in wax and a scene entirely contaminated with six kinds of blood, for instance.  And I’ve always enjoyed teaching.  I think she has something wider in mind, because she keeps making noises about sending me out to some of the smaller departments in the state.  If it results in better forensic practices, I can’t say I’d mind.  Your belongings arrived yesterday, safe and sealed, and are now stacked in the garage to wait for your arrival.  It seems odd to have them and not you, though I do understand that your testimony must come first.  Still, I miss you badly.  Sara bit her lip, her eyes prickling at the simple words.  “I miss you too,” she murmured to the screen.  She had been preparing to leave, and had in fact sent the bulk of her stuff off in a moving truck, when she had been suddenly subpoenaed in a trial whose case she had worked two years previously.  So another week had elapsed, most of it spent sitting in the back of a stuffy courtroom and waiting for one side or the other to call on her.  It was infuriating, in a way; waiting around to testify was part of the job, if a boring one, but it was very frustrating to be almost on the point of leaving to join her lover and start a new life, and then to get yanked back into duty.  But he understands.  Sara closed the e-mail and sat back, dwelling on that knowledge and savoring it.  And it’s not like he’s going to disappear in the meantime.  Hey, he’d better not.       Grissom shifted on the couch, feeling restless.  His townhouse was quiet, and he couldn’t seem to settle into anything--not TV or journals or letter-writing.  He’d fed his roaches, cleaned the cricket tank, put on Vivaldi, and yet he knew that he was too edgy to sleep.   Relax, he scolded himself.  If you don’t get at least some rest, you won’t be much good at work tomorrow.  It’s not a good idea to fall asleep in the middle of a meeting.  But not even a cup of tea soothed him.  Finally Grissom opened the door to his garage and padded out into it--his Mercedes was parked in the driveway for the duration--to look over the neat stacks of boxes and the few pieces of furniture that half-filled the space.  All the boxes were taped to a fare-thee-well and neatly labeled in Sara’s printing.  Grissom searched through them for a moment, trying to decide, but he knew that she would have packed everything clean.  In the end he chose a large, light box, pulling a knife from his pocket and slicing carefully through the tape so he could reach in.  It seemed slightly karmic that the first thing his fingers grasped was the large pink stuffed lizard.  It regarded him with the same slightly skeptical expression Grissom figured was on his own face, but after a moment Grissom shrugged.  “You’ll do.”  He closed the box, placing another on top to keep it shut, and tucked the lizard under his arm as he went back inside.  Ten minutes later his teeth were brushed and his alarm was set, and Grissom lay down in bed, wrapping his arms around the lizard and trying to ignore the faint sense of ridiculousness.  But both his tension and his embarrassment ebbed as the plush warmed and the subtle scent of Sara rose from it to his nose.  Within minutes, he was asleep.        Sara rapped on the open door of Toby Washington’s office and took his vague gesture as the invitation it was meant to be.  The click of the door closing behind her made him look up from the file he was holding, and his face went from mild inquiry to resignation when he saw who had entered.  “Sidle.”  It would have sounded brusque, except Washington referred to all his people by their unadorned last names; titles were reserved for formality.  In return, they all called him Toby, or Boss, or Slavedriver if the occasion warranted it, and smiled when they said it.  Sara realized with a small pulse of sadness that she would miss this office, whose casual work environment hid the powerful mesh of personalities and abilities that made it one of the best in the Bureau.  “You finished?” he asked quietly, and Sara nodded, answering the question on all its levels.  Washington sighed, and dropped the file on the nearest stack of paper before climbing to his feet.  “All right.”  He came around his desk and enveloped Sara in a long-armed hug; she hugged him back, knowing that no matter how good her supervisor in Las Vegas was going to be, she would definitely feel the loss of Toby as well.  “We’re gonna miss you around here,” he grumbled as he released her.  “Even if I won’t have to come kick you out of the labs any more.”  “Just think, you’ll get the back room couch back,” Sara teased, trying to smile; she’d only slept on it twice, but it had become a running joke.  “Yeah, yeah.  Knock ‘em dead in Vegas, Sidle.  You gotta maintain our rep out there.”  Washington enveloped her hand in his, then let her go to shove his door open again and wave her through it.  Sara halted halfway out the door, eyes widening at the sight of every agent in the big room on their feet, looking over cubicle walls or standing next to desks.  Applauding.  Sara closed her eyes briefly, feeling her cheeks heat with a mixture of extreme embarrassment and pleasure at the accolade.  She’d made no close friends in the office, but there were plenty of people she enjoyed working with, and apparently the sentiment was returned.  When she looked again, they were still applauding, smiling at her; one or two of the more boisterous whistled.  Shaking her head, Sara glanced back at Washington.  “Are you responsible for this?”  He gave her an overly innocent look.  “Nah, I’ve got more sense.  Go on, greet your public.”  He shoved her gently.  Much to Sara’s relief, there was no actual party, but it took her almost fifteen minutes to work her way out of the office as various of her fellow agents took the opportunity to say goodbye.  She swapped e-mail addresses with a few of them, knowing that they were unlikely to communicate about anything other than a challenging case, but she appreciated the sentiment.  Finally she found herself walking through the parking garage for the last time, carrying a shopping bag half-full of personal items from her desk, and she paused for a moment as she approached her car to remember necking with Grissom there, and the time they had teetered on the brink of giving up.  Then she shook her head and climbed into her car.  It felt odd to be leaving work in the middle of the day, with no scene to go to or double shift behind her, and when she pulled out of the garage the sunlight seemed almost too bright.  But it was one of those sweet mild days that spring sometimes brings, and on impulse Sara punched the roof button before sliding on her sunglasses.  What good is a convertible if you don’t take the top down?  Feeling suddenly lighthearted, Sara grinned and headed for home.      The next morning started out the same as usual, except that after starting the coffee she returned upstairs and pulled on jeans and a sweater instead of the usual crisp pantsuit, and simply ran a brush through her hair instead of styling it.  She came back down to the kitchen a little early as a consequence, and busied herself setting out the cereal bowls and milk for her niece and nephew.  Joey came in and applied himself to breakfast with his usual concentration, but Kimmy dumped her backpack by her stool and picked at her cornflakes silently.  Sara, knowing the problem, said nothing; this was not something that words could help at the moment.  Ed came in soon after, unnaturally awake but his usual cheerful self; Sara gave him a speaking glance, and he nodded, and acted as though that morning were perfectly ordinary.  The time seemed to slip away more quickly than usual; before too long Kimmy slipped down from her stool and went to brush her teeth, and Sara looked over to Joseph.  “Hey kiddo, I’m going to run Kimmy to school, and you’ll be gone by the time I get back, so I’m going to say goodbye now.”  Her nephew set down his spoon and looked up at her solemnly.  “I don’t want you to go, Aunt Sara.”  His words put a lump in her throat, and she leaned down to gather him up.  His arms went around her neck; he was really too big for the cuddle, but she didn’t care.  “I don’t want to leave you, Joey.  But I’ll visit you in Los Angeles, and you can come visit me in Las Vegas.”  He was silent a long moment, and then nodded against her neck.  “Okay.”  She managed to set him down without letting a tear squeeze out, and leaned down to kiss his slightly sticky cheek.  He made a face at her, and Sara chuckled.  “Have a good day at school, kiddo.”  Joey nodded again, and Sara grabbed her keys from the counter and headed down to her car.  Kimmy joined her a few minutes later, dropping her pack behind her seat and belting herself in without a word.  Sara respected her silence and backed the car down the drive and into the morning light.  She could hazard a guess as to the emotions roiling inside Kimmy, and she figured that they would find a release before the two of them reached the school.  She was right; two blocks away from the building, stopped at the last light, words burst forth from Kimmy.  “Why do you have to go!”  Sara knew that Kimmy already knew the answer, and replied instead to the real question, her voice gentle.  “It’s not forever.  I know it’s a lot of change right now, but that’s what happens sometimes.”  Kimmy was too old to fold her arms over her chest and pout, but her fists clenched as Sara pulled away from the light and carefully drove the remaining distance to the school parking lot.  “It’s not fair.”  Sara shut off the engine and turned a little in her seat.  It would be so easy to give her niece platitudes, or a useless effort at perspective, but neither would help.  Kimmy’s world had been shattered once before, and while Sara’s departure was not nearly so drastic, Kimmy was still losing the immediate presence of one of the cornerstones of her life.  “I know,” Sara repeated sympathetically.  Taking a chance, she reached out and brushed a strand of dark hair from Kimmy’s forehead.  “I’m going to miss you very much.”  Her niece glared a moment longer, and then her face crumpled, and Sara was able to release their seatbelts and gather Kimmy into a hug made awkward by the gear shift between them.  The girl burrowed into Sara’s arms, a few hot tears soaking through Sara’s sweater, but only a few.  Sara held her tightly, inhaling the familiar scent of her shampoo, and abruptly wondered if her own decision of where to go would have been the same if Ed had not already decided to move to the other side of the country.  But the speculation was pointless.  Sara didn’t loosen her grip until Kimmy began to pull away, her face flushed but calmer.  “I’ll e-mail you lots,” Sara promised softly.  “Yeah.”  Kimmy sniffed back a last tear and rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands.  “An’ you’ll call too, right?”  “Every week,” Sara promised.  “At least.  And you can call me any time you like.”  Kimmy nodded.  “Dad says I can have a cellphone when we move,” she said, looking happier.  “I can send you text messages.”  Sara laughed.  “There you go.”  The faint sound of a buzzer bell reached them, and she sobered.  “School’s starting, kiddo.”  “I know.”  Kimmy sighed.  “G’bye, Aunt Sara.”  She leaned over and kissed Sara’s cheek.  Sara swallowed hard and kissed her back on the forehead, and then Kimmy was climbing out of the car and reaching into the back for her bag.  Sara watched her jog down the sidewalk and disappear into the building with a few other children; Kimmy didn’t look back.  Sara bit her lip, then put on her seatbelt and started the engine.      Two hours later she and Ed were walking into what Joey referred to as “the swoop airport” due to the curve of its roof.  Sara grinned at her brother, unable to resist teasing him a little.  “You could have just dropped me off, you know.”  “Yeah, right,” he scoffed back.  “Besides, after you get through Security I’m gonna get a couple of Cinnabons and eat them all…by…myself.”  The comic greed on his face made Sara laugh out loud.  Her entire family shared a passion for the gooey pastries, but Ed usually ended up losing most of his to his offspring.  “If you get sick, I don’t want to hear about it.”  He snorted at her as they joined the check-in line.  “Okay, remind me--the car guy is coming tomorrow?”  “Yep, he should be there at ten a.m.  That reminds me.”  Sara dug in her pants pocket for her keychain, and removed her car keys before handing the rest to Ed.  “You’ve still got the spare Mercedes set in the kitchen drawer.  This one--“ she pointed-- “is the one to Grissom’s place, so you can just toss it.”  “Got it.”  Ed put them into his own pocket.  Sara was having the Mercedes shipped to Las Vegas; the service was outrageously expensive, but she didn’t want to give up her car and she didn’t have time to drive it herself.  “You’ll be lucky if I don’t just have him take the minivan instead.”  Sara snickered and nudged him with one elbow.  “That’ll work up until you have to take both kids somewhere.”  They chatted lightly as the line edged forward.  Sara was torn between the sadness of leaving Ed behind, and the deep, electric delight of going back to Vegas, to Grissom; the emotions created a sort of balance within her, neither taking over for the moment.  Finally her ticket was validated and her bag checked; Ed walked with her over to the security gate.  There was no line, for a change, so Sara slung her satchel behind her and hugged him hard.  Ed’s arms went around her tightly; for someone so bony, he was a good hugger.  “You call if you need anything,” Sara said sternly, trying not to sniffle.  “Promise.”  “Only if you do too,” he answered in the vicinity of her ear, and she nodded against his shoulder.  They let each other go, and Sara could see that Ed’s eyes were a little red, though he was smiling.  “Take care of yourself.  And him.”  “I will.  Be happy, Ed.  I’ll see you in a few months.”  She spun away and strode into the Security area, turning back just before she passed through the gate.  Ed waved wildly, and she lifted a hand in return; and then he was gone.         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 CSI Home Feedback