Light In The Mirror

Halfway to the Moon




Gracie

"Gracie"

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 name I chose for the housekeeper, Gracie, is of course a joke based on "Will and Grace", but if I'd known I was going to write a sequel I would have chosen something else, because the character is much more like Sloan from "Prey".  If any Prey fans are reading this (unlikely) you'll get the joke of her last name.  

I want to say thank you for all the wonderful reviews.  This story means a lot to me, and I'm so glad that people are enjoying it!  


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On Saturday, as they had arranged, Grissom met Sara again at her townhouse, though a little later than the day before.  Kimmy was out on the small front lawn when he arrived, playing jacks with another girl about the same age.  Grissom waved as he approached, carefully stepping off the sidewalk to detour around their game.  “Hello, ladies.” 

The other girl giggled, but Kimmy regarded him solemnly.  “Hi, Doctor G.”  The name had been chosen two weeks prior, when the pronunciation of “Grissom” had proven to be beyond Joseph’s still-developing ability.  “You can go in if you want.” 

“Thank you,” he said gravely, and opened the front door.  Behind him he heard the unknown child. 

“Is that your Aunt Sara’s boyfriend?” 

Intrigued, Grissom pulled the door almost shut behind him, curious to hear what Kimmy would say. 

“’M not sure,” Kimmy answered deliberately.  “She says he’s not, but Daddy says he is.”  He heard the small thwack of the ball bouncing.  “I think they’re kinda confused.” 

Sounds about right.  Amused, Grissom closed the door completely and headed up the stairs from the utility room, towards the sound of a vacuum cleaner. 

Expecting Ed or Sara to be wielding the tool, he was a little surprised to see a strange woman with porcelain skin and a ponytail of curly red hair with the vacuum wand in her hand.  She looked up as he emerged from the stairwell, eyes widening, and then recognition dawned on her face and she shut off the machine. 

“You must be Dr. Grissom.  Sara’s upstairs, I’ll call her.”  She strode over to an intercom box set in the living room wall, and depressed a key.  “Sara, your friend’s here.” 

She was shorter than Sara, and curvy in jeans and a sweatshirt; she didn’t sound like a housekeeper, but Grissom deduced that that was her title nonetheless.  He stuck out a hand.  “Gil Grissom.” 

The woman took it and smiled, and the expression changed her face from merely pleasant to warm-eyed beauty.  “Grace Daniels.  A pleasure to meet you--Joey hasn’t stopped talking about you for two weeks.” 

He didn’t quite know what to say to that.  “Where is he?” 

“Over at a friend’s.  He’s a busy guy these days.”  Her expression invited Grissom to share a joke, and he smiled without quite figuring out what the joke actually was.  “Oh, here she comes.” 

Feet sounded on the stairs to the upper floors, which were across the room from the ones Grissom had just mounted, and Sara bounded into view, swinging a purse onto her shoulder.  “Sorry I’m late,” she said, a little breathlessly. 

“No, I’m early,” Grissom countered.  He looked at her where she had halted, three stairs up, and took her in with helpless admiration.  Her hair was curly and loose again, and she wore slacks instead of jeans; her t-shirt bore a portrait that took him a moment to recognize as that of Niels Bohr.  He realized that he was the victim of conflicting desires; he wanted to take her hand and kiss it, he wanted to ask her where she got the shirt, he wanted to walk up the intervening steps and slide his hands under the shirt and kiss her... 

Sara broke his reverie by pulling her hair from under the strap of the purse and finishing the stairs.  “Have you eaten?” 

Grissom put his hands in his pockets, to keep them under control.  “Yes.  Have you?” 

His tease made her wrinkle her nose at him; Grace laughed.  “He’s got your number, Sara.” 

That made his brows go up, even as Sara shot the other woman a dirty look.  “I thought you said you ate breakfast these days.” 

“Most days,” Grace said cheerfully, apparently completely unaffected by Sara’s glare.  “We’ve gotten that far.” 

Grissom let one brow arch at Sara’s caught-out look.  “Busted.” 

Sara growled a little and caught Grissom’s elbow.  “Let’s get out of here before this gets any more embarrassing, why don’t we?” 

Grissom might have teased her more, but he was too enchanted by the fact that she was actually touching him, even if it was only to tow him towards the exit.  Grace was chuckling behind them, and as they descended Grissom heard the vacuum start up again. 

Sara pulled open the door to the garage, and they squeezed past the minivan to her Mercedes, only to find that it was parked too close to the van for the passenger door to open properly.  Sara sighed. 

“Ed must have gotten out through the sliding door again.  I’ll back it out.” 

Grissom stepped back out of the way as Sara hit the garage-door switch, then went outside to the lawn as she got into the car.  Kimmy and her friend were still playing on the sidewalk, but they stopped their game to watch as Sara carefully reversed into view. 

“Where are you going?” Kimmy asked, still solemn, and Grissom got the feeling that she was weighing him. 

“Into Washington,” he said truthfully; they hadn’t fixed on a particular museum yet. 

“Can we go?” 

Grissom blinked.  “You’ll have to ask Sara that.”  He hoped she would say no.  Yes, he wanted to get to know her family--but not by touring a museum with two ten-year-olds.  Not today. 

The car halted in the driveway, and with slow precision the roof folded up and away, revealing Sara.  “It’s still kind of cool,” she pointed out.  “And there might actually be a breeze.” 

Grissom opened the passenger door and slid into the seat as Kimmy and her friend rose to come stand next to the car.  “Can we come too, Aunt Sara?” Kimmy asked, a little wistful. 

Sara grinned at them.  “No room in this thing for four, kiddo.  Besides, we’re going to be doing boring grownup stuff.” 

“Yeah, right,” Kimmy said with exaggerated doubt, but the two girls turned and went back to their game.  Sara waited until they reached the sidewalk before releasing the brake. 

“I’ll probably have to put the top back up when we get downtown, because of the traffic,” Sara explained, sounding the slightest bit nervous.  “But I like to have it down any chance I get.” 

“It’s a lovely day,” Grissom agreed obliquely.  It wasn’t his fantasy, but it was still very pleasant to sit next to Sara and watch the breeze play with her hair as she drove.  He put on his sunglasses so he could watch her a little more covertly; Sara was already wearing hers. 

“No matter where we go, it’s going to be a madhouse,” Sara warned as they stopped for a red light.  “Any preferences?” 

“The Air and Space Museum,” Grissom said firmly, knowing that she loved it.  Sara pulled down her glasses to peer at him for a moment. 

“Not the Natural History Museum?  Bugs, you know.” 

He didn’t rise to the bait.  “Air and Space.  The light’s green.” 

Sara had what Grissom had heard Warrick refer to as “park fu,” and was able to find a parking space in the crowded city with near-supernatural skill.  They strolled towards the huge complex of buildings that made up the Smithsonian Institution, just one more couple among swarms of families, tourists, and groups.  At least, they looked like a couple, Grissom hoped, then scoffed at himself.  If wishing made it so... 

They spent several hours wandering among the exhibits, and Grissom found again that their difficulties seemed to be in abeyance for a while as they took in the rockets and capsules and satellites, and argued gently about the Cold War and the use of animals in space exploration. 

At one point they circled slowly around the Moon lander display, admiring the shiny, fat little craft, and Sara eventually handed Grissom her camera.  “Here--I’ve always wanted a shot of this.” 

She chose her spot, and Grissom backed slowly up, trying to frame her perfectly through the camera’s viewfinder.  It took a minute or so, but eventually he snatched a second between passing tourists and took the picture, Sara smiling and behind her the valiant lander, built for a terrain it would never reach. 

He wondered if she would let him have a copy. 

Then he walked back to her, and she took the camera.  “Your turn!” 

“Sara--“  But she was already moving away, ignoring his protest.  Grissom stood stiffly, abruptly aware of his own appearance, self-conscious and unhappy but unwilling to refuse her. 

But she waved at him, and suddenly it didn’t matter so much.  So what if I look awful?  What difference does it make?  She already knows what I look like.  Grissom straightened and let his shoulders relax.  Sara held up her hand in an “okay” sign and took the photo. 

She was beaming when she came back.  “Nice one!  All you need is a spacesuit, and you’re there, man.” 

Grissom snorted.  “I prefer terra firma, thank you.” 

The last hour was spent in the gift shop, with Grissom losing track of time in the extensive book section before belatedly thinking that it might be nice to send postcards to his somewhat bewildered colleagues.  After all, he’d given them no real explanation as to why he’d suddenly decided to spend his leave of absence on the East Coast.  And, he realized, none of them knew that he was seeing Sara. 

I think I’ll keep it that way.  At least for now. 

Five minutes later, he had a handful of postcards and two books, and no idea of where Sara was.  He finally tracked her down on the shop’s lower level, where the toys were kept, and found her bent over the jewelry display.  “Find something interesting?” 

She straightened, and turned to smile at him.  “Lots, but I managed to cut it down to four.”  She gestured, and Grissom moved to examine the small pile on the counter next to her. 

The hot-pink fiberoptic flashlight and the Space Shuttle model were obvious, and Grissom assumed that the Einstein-sticking-his-tongue-out t-shirt was for Ed.  He touched the small faceted crystal, which had a hole pierced through one end.  “Is this for your window?” 

Sara shook her head.  “It’s for Gracie.  It always embarrasses her, but if I don’t bring her something, the kids get all insulted.”  She gathered up her choices and they walked towards the register. 

“So she’s part of the family.”  Grissom found that he was faintly jealous of a woman he’d only just met. 

“Sort of--she does a lot of babysitting and so forth.  To tell you the truth, Ed’s got a crush on her, and I think she likes him too.”  She laid her purchases down on the counter and dug into her pocket for her wallet. 

“Does that please you?” he asked, curious. 

Sara shot him one of those breathtaking grins.  “Oh yeah.” 

As they were coming out of the shop, Sara held up a hand.  “I have to hit the ladies’ room before we go.” 

Grissom took her shopping bag from her.  “Go ahead, I’ll meet you here.” 

He watched her stride across the museum floor, only to halt at the line that spilled out of the restroom and shoot him an uncertain glance over her shoulder.  He waved reassurance, and as she turned away and joined the line, he had another epiphany. 

The jewelry counter had a clerk behind it when he returned to the basement, and Grissom went straight over.  “Excuse me.” 

The young man looked up politely; his shoulders were so wide that he looked as though he would have trouble going through doors.  “Can I help you?” 

“Did you help the young woman who was here a few minutes ago?  Tall, brunette?” 

Dark eyes narrowed with male appreciation, and the man gave Grissom a grin almost as wide as his shoulders.  “I sure did.” 

“Good.”  Grissom felt a rare surge of excitement, a sense that he was doing the right thing.  “Did she buy anything?” 

“No sir.”  The clerk tapped the glass.  “She was looking at these, though.” 

Grissom bent for a better look.  The display was mostly of necklaces and earrings, ranging from elegant to the mild silliness of tiny airplanes.  “Anything specific?” 

The clerk unlocked the cabinet and reached in, withdrawing the padded tray that held a range of necklaces.  “She tried this one on.”  He pointed. 

It was an intricate piece, a sunburst of silver set with amber in green, gold, and red, and Grissom could instantly picture Sara wearing it.  It wasn’t terribly expensive. 

“She said something about it exceeding her budget for the week,” the clerk offered, clearly knowing his business. 

Grissom nodded, turning his attention to the other displays.  One caught his eye.  “Let me see that one,” he said, pointing in turn. 

The clerk laid the bracelet out on the counter.  It was heavy; polished chunks of golden amber sat in silver clasps, and the image behind Grissom’s eyes of it gracing Sara’s slender wrist was even more vivid than his picture of the necklace.  The bracelet was definitely expensive, but money wasn’t a concern. 

“Both, please,” he said with confidence, and the clerk smiled again and wrapped them carefully in boxes emblazoned with the institution’s own sunburst logo. 

He was back in his original position, waiting for Sara to emerge from the restroom, before remembering that she still might send him packing before the weekend was over.  The thought made his throat tighten.  You could always return them if that happens, he told himself, but he had the sneaking suspicion that he wouldn’t. 

It was a bleak image.  Twenty years from now, opening a drawer and digging through socks, only to uncover the long flat box; opening it to find the bracelet, its silver tarnished but the amber still bright, a reminder of what he’d let slip away…  

“Something the matter?”  Her voice was casual, but Grissom could see the wariness in Sara’s eyes as she joined him. 

“Nope,” he said easily, and as her face relaxed, he felt hope returning.  The weight of the bag in his hand was like a promise.  “Ready to go?” 

 

 

Kids could be a pain in the ass, Sara reflected, but they also had many advantages, though one that never seemed to be mentioned was their value as distractions.  It was much harder to obsess over the coming evening, or what she was wearing, or the fact that she shouldn’t be obsessing, with Kimmy bouncing on Sara’s bed and asking excited questions. 

It was only natural, Sara supposed, and decided to be grateful that she’d at least had time to shower in peace before her niece invaded.  She’d dropped Grissom off at a Metrorail station--his insistence, rather than driving him back to his suite--and gone home to get ready for the date he had asked for.  “Nothing too formal,” he’d said, which of course left her way too wide a range of options. 

She’d finally settled on one of the skirts she sometimes wore to work, dark and straight and reaching just below her knee, but topped it with a camisole and a thin maroon sweater that buttoned up the front.  After some deliberation, and expert advice from the short person on her bed, she didn’t pin up her hair, instead clipping it back with a couple of barrettes.  Now she was trying to apply a little makeup…trying being the operative word. 

“Pleeeeese, Aunt Sara?” 

Sara leaned forward to apply eyeshadow, her sigh clouding on the mirror for a second.  “Nope.” 

“Why NOT?” 

“Because your dad said no makeup before you’re fourteen at the very least.”  Actually, Ed had threatened her with tortures unnamable if she let Kimmy try out anything beyond a spritz of perfume, but Sara wasn’t worried.  Between her self-defense training and Ed’s deep-set view of her as his little sister, she knew she could wrestle him to the ground any time she felt it was necessary. 

“I think you should wear the pink one.”  Kimmy had come over to Sara’s cluttered dresser and was holding up a tube.  Sara winced. 

“It doesn’t go with my outfit, kiddo.”  In fact, the color didn’t really suit her; it had been a bad choice.  She selected a darker shade instead, almost the color of her sweater, then straightened to check the effect. 

Beside her, Kimmy sighed happily.  “You’re beautiful, Aunt Sara.” 

Sara laughed, and picked up her perfume.  “It’s all in the accessories.”  Kimmy, who knew when she was being teased even if she didn’t get the joke, made a face at her aunt. 

Sara applied the perfume to her wrists and throat, wondering briefly if it was a good idea.  But Grissom asked for a date--he’s going to get one.  Some innate sense of fairness pushed her to uphold her end of the bargain.  “Want some of this?” 

Kimmy held out an eager arm, dragging her sleeve up, and Sara sprayed a hint of the spicy scent onto her niece’s wrist.  The odor would be different on Kimmy, Sara knew; without the adult pheromones, it would remain sweet and light on the little girl’s skin until her bath washed it away.  On Sara, it deepened and became richer, and she knew she would catch whiffs of it all evening. 

One last look in the mirror.  Her reflection’s eyes were dark and wide, with both apprehension and excitement; her hair curled down her back a ways but the clips pulled it back enough to outline her cheeks and throat.  She tried on a smile; a little too bright and artificial. 

“It’ll have to do,” Sara muttered.  Despite her niece’s words, she didn’t consider herself beautiful, but she knew she was attractive, and that her taste in clothes suited her.  Feeling a surge of confidence, she winked at herself and grabbed her purse.  “C’mon, kiddo, let’s go downstairs.  I’m not going to wait up here for him like Rapunzel.” 

This made Kimmy burst out laughing, and they went down the stairs in a dramatic chorus of “Let down your haaaiiirrr!” 

Unfortunately for Sara’s composure, Grissom was waiting at the bottom of the second flight, talking with Ed.  Sara halted halfway down, feeling the words dry up in her throat as both men turned towards them, but where Ed held out his arms for Kimmy to jump into, Grissom only looked. 

She braced herself for amusement or embarrassment, but instead it seemed as though he hadn’t even heard their silly song; his eyes were burning bright, admiring her, almost devouring her.  A tremor ran through her.  Okay, this is definitely not a good idea. 

But it was too late to back out.  Sara got a grip on herself and finished her descent, Grissom’s gaze never leaving her; Ed was busy sniffing Kimmy’s proffered wrist and pretending to check for eyeshadow. 

Grissom looked...well, Sara couldn’t remember him looking quite so natty, even the last time she’d seen him dressed for court.  A tie didn’t really suit him, but the dark gray button-down shirt open at the throat definitely did, and the sport jacket he was wearing made him look like a professor at a fantasy university.  “Ready to go?” he asked softly. 

“Yep,” Sara answered briskly, unwilling to give Ed an opening to tease.  Grissom gestured towards the stairs and followed her down them, Kimmy’s goodbyes echoing behind, followed by “Daddy, when can I go on a date?” 

Sara couldn’t help grinning as she retrieved her raincoat from the closet, and Grissom chuckled outright at the answer of “We’ll discuss it when you’re thirty,” but then he startled her by taking the coat from her and holding it out. 

She wasn’t sure which surprised her more--that he thought of doing it, or that he knew how.  Sara let him help her into the coat, and was even more surprised when gentle hands lifted her hair free of the collar.  They made her shiver pleasurably, and to cover it she whirled for the door.  “Let’s go before Kimmy decides to come down and try to stow away.” 

It wasn’t until they were driving away from the house that Grissom spoke from the passenger seat.  “You look stunning, Sara.” 

This from a man who, besides an oblique comment about beauty, had complimented her appearance only once.  Sara felt her face heating, and was glad for the darkness.  “...Thanks.  So do you, by the way.” 

He made a small noise, as though in protest, but said nothing, and they settled into semi-uncomfortable silence.  It wasn’t until they pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant Grissom had chosen that Sara broke it. 

“I told you I was bad at this,” she grumbled, releasing her seatbelt, and he snickered, sounding relieved. 

“We’re right on target, then.”  He climbed out of the car and turned to face her over its roof, his face a little pink.  “Of course, that means the next thing that happens is that I bore you talking about insects, and then get called away to work.” 

Sara felt a smirk coming on, and closed her car door.  “You’re out of luck, Griss, because the bugs don’t bore me and work’s a lonnnng way away.” 

He was definitely amused, judging by the way the corners of his mouth were twitching.  “Then things can only improve.” 

Grissom held the restaurant’s door for her as they entered; it was a rather upscale Thai place, trendy and elegant both.  Most of the tables were occupied, but Grissom had made reservations, so they were seated almost immediately.  Sara looked around with interest; the décor was vaguely Asian and fairly streamlined, giving the restaurant an open and airy feel.  “I’ve never been here before.” 

“It’s relatively new, but it gets good reviews,” Grissom said, opening his menu, and Sara thought how like him it was to research the matter.  There was a good selection of vegetarian choices, and she made hers quickly, then used the cover of the menu to observe Grissom.  He looked much more relaxed than he had when he’d arrived, and less weary, as though he had found a new source of energy. 

And, she had to admit to herself, he was just as handsome as ever.  It wasn’t just his features; it was the kindness hinted at in the lines of his face, the intelligence behind the warm eyes. 

Great.  I knew this would be a problem.  In all the time since she’d first considered Grissom as more than a friend, Sara had been aware on some level that entering into a relationship with him, if ever they did, would most likely be very intense.  Grissom said he was bad at dating, and with people, but Sara knew better.  When he turned his formidable concentration on something outside work…  

If he truly meant this, if he was serious, she was going to have a great deal of trouble keeping him at arms’ length until she was sure.  Not that she thought Grissom would try to force her to do anything she didn’t want to do; she wouldn’t be anywhere near him if that were the case, but then, he wouldn’t be the man she’d known all these years if he were.  Her trust issues with him had never involved her physical safety. 

No, the problem was going to be keeping herself under control.  Not touching him, not…well, kissing him... 

But I am not going to screw this up.  If I decide to do this--  If she did, she knew as well as he that it really was their last chance.  Waste it, and there would be no more opportunities.  They would both be too burned. 

It was worth taking time over, if she chose.  And in the meantime, there was dinner with a gorgeous, brilliant man who seemed to want to make her happy. 

Sara decided it was time to enjoy herself. 

They placed their orders, and Grissom took a sip of his water.  “I’ve been meaning to ask…what exactly do you do for the FBI?” 

Sara sat back a little, amused.  “Took you long enough.  A little bit of this, a little bit of that; mainly forensics, but more lab work.  Lots of research.” 

“Materials analysis?”  Grissom had the head-cocked attitude that meant he was listening carefully. 

“For the most part.  I also seem to have a talent for profiling, but since I don’t have a psych degree it’s mostly informal workups.”  She played idly with the edge of her napkin.  “Every so often they send me out for collection, in more sensitive cases.” 

“Do you miss it?”  Grissom set down his glass.  “Being in the field, I mean.” 

“Sometimes.”  Sara narrowed her eyes a little, trying to put things into words.  “Sometimes it’s frustrating, working with so little evidence and wondering if the guys in the field overlooked something, but they’re pretty good.  I don’t miss the decomps.”  They shared a chuckle at that. 

She thought a moment longer.  “I guess what I miss the most is the relationships.  It’s a big lab, and people come and go all the time; you get to know some of the techs, but you don’t develop partnerships the way you do in a smaller lab.” 

Grissom nodded.  “Advantages and disadvantages.” 

“Yeah.”  Sara exhaled, not surprised that he understood.  “I work with lots more people, I learn more…but I don’t have any real buddies.  It’s a little lonely sometimes.” 

A small lump formed in her throat at the thought of the friends she’d left behind in Vegas; normally she didn’t let herself remember how much she missed them all despite their e-mails and phone calls. 

Grissom was looking a little distressed.  “Sara…”  

She shrugged off the melancholy.  “It’s just as well.  The first six months or so I didn’t have the energy, and the kids still take up a lot of time.” 

“It was hard for Ed?” Grissom asked. 

“Yeah.”  The one short word didn’t encompass her brother’s devastation, Sara thought.  Jenny’s sudden death had left Ed reeling with shock and grief, and Sara had seen the other side of love at first hand, the price eventually paid for even the best and deepest of relationships.  “He wasn’t really in shape to deal with them for a while there.  If it hadn’t been for Gracie--“  She let her lips curve up.  “It’s not like I knew how to handle kids or anything.” 

It had been just as well, in a way, that she hadn’t really known Jenny.  That had spared Sara the sorrow of losing her, had left her clear-headed to try to comfort two miserable children and support a brother she barely knew any more.  Calm Gracie, already a fixture three days a week, had been her salvation, mothering the kids the way Sara hadn’t known how to and leaving Sara time to take care of Ed. 

“You seem to do fine, from what little I’ve seen,” Grissom pointed out, and Sara’s smile widened. 

“Well, yeah, now I do.”  She snorted at a few particular memories.  “So, tell me how the lab does without Ecklie.” 

He grimaced with distaste.  “Much better, thank you.  Catherine turned out to be a natural leader.” 

“Doesn’t surprise me.”  Sara grinned.  “Let me guess, she plays politics with the big boys.” 

“If it gets the lab the equipment it needs, I don’t care if she plays saxophone and touch football.”  His eyes crinkled at her choke of laughter.  “She keeps threatening to steal Greg from me, but so far she hasn’t found an incentive that he’s willing to accept.” 

“She hasn’t found something big enough for him to tempt your wrath, you mean.” 

Their food arrived before Grissom could reply, ginger duck for him and sautéed eggplant with basil for Sara.  The food was as good as the reviews had predicted, and they spent a few minutes in appreciative munching before Sara spoke again.  “So tell me about your team.” 

He did.  He described Abdul, who had taken Warrick’s place as Grissom’s potential second; Betty, whose soft Wisconsin accent made her stand out in the flatter tones of the Midwest, and who had no desire to advance up the management ladder; Gen, who was the eager young rookie, full of ideas that had been tried before and a few that hadn’t. 

“And I’m sure you know exactly how Greg is doing,” he finished a little dryly.  Sara’s dimples appeared. 

“At length, as a matter of fact.  I get all the lab gossip, along with opinion, speculation, and the latest on the practical joke war between him and Hodges.” 

Grissom rolled his eyes.  “Don’t get me started on those two.  It was bad enough when Greg was just a lab tech, but seeing one of my best CSIs hopping frantically down the corridor because somehow Hodges glued the legs of his jumpsuit together and the zipper closed…” 

Sara covered her mouth with her napkin and laughed hard, not only at the image but at the twinkle in Grissom’s eyes.  “I didn’t hear about that one,” she managed when she caught her breath. 

“Somehow, I’m not surprised.” 

She finished another bite of eggplant before going on, keeping her gaze on her plate.  “He keeps bugging me to come visit.” 

Grissom was silent so long that she finally looked up.  His face was calm, but his voice held wistfulness.  “You could, you know.” 

She sighed, twirling her fork in her food.  “I…I might.” 

Awkwardness returned, broken only by the chime of Sara’s cellphone.  She hesitated. 

“Go ahead and take it,” Grissom encouraged. 

Sighing again, she dug in her purse.  “I told Ed not to call unless it was an emergency.  Oh--“  The display was not home, but work.  She shot Grissom an apologetic glance.  “I guess I’ll have to.  Excuse me.” 

He nodded, and she put her napkin on the table and rose, heading for the front door and not clicking on the phone until she was a few strides away from the table.  “Sidle.” 

Within three minutes, she had completed the call and rejoined Grissom, embarrassed and a little angry.  “Grissom, I hate to say this, but--“ 

“Work, right?”  At her affirmative, he nodded and gave her a wry smile.  “Looks like my track record is holding after all.” 

 

 

The Scotch was exceptional.  Grissom shifted on the bar stool and glanced at the TV, which was showing a college football game on mute, and then looked away again.  If it had been baseball…but it wasn’t. 

All around him was the hum of a Saturday night at the popular restaurant, and while there were a few other men sitting alone at the long slab of oak, they were eyeing the single women or had the air of people waiting.  Grissom wasn’t waiting, or interested in companionship; he’d already turned down one offer of a drink from a petite blonde.  He just didn’t feel like going back to his suite yet. 

What he did feel was contentment, which was relatively unfamiliar.  It had been almost karmic, Sara being called away by work, and she had obviously been upset about it.  He’d done his best to reassure her that he wasn’t hurt; a little disappointed, perhaps, but who knew better than he what it was like to be interrupted in the middle of something important? 

Besides, as Sara had left, she had hesitated, then leaned down.  The low apology he’d expected, the thanks were welcome; the brief warm brush of her lips against his cheek had been a surprise.  The spot still tingled. 

If it was to be their last date, Grissom reflected, it was all too short, but in that case a date of any length would be so for him.  If it was their first…well, then, on the whole it had been a success. 

That, too, surprised him a little.  The last few he’d had, and they were all years behind him now, had been stilted at best and abortive at worst.  He’d had things in common with those women--an inquisitive mind, a fascination with forensics--but things still hadn’t gone well.  Grissom wondered now if that was so much because of his lack of social graces, or because he simply hadn’t cared enough. 

Possibly both. 

This time, he cared. 

This time, it was important. 

 

 

Sara climbed slowly out of her car and shut the door with a weary slam.  It was almost two-thirty in the morning, and her day had been long, and she knew that at this point there was no way she was going to get up to go to church with Ed and the kids in the morning.  Not that she did go much more often than once a month or so, but…  This week is definitely not it. 

But instead of opening the door to the utility room, she walked out through the mouth of the garage, into a muggy summer night.  The moon was high and tiny and slightly fuzzy, and the air was still; a few lightning bugs were up late, flickering over the lawns.  Sara took a deep breath of the fresh air, still a little enchanted to be back in genuine seasons again, and sat down on the front stoop.  Her raincoat would protect her skirt from the rough brick. 

For a while she just sat, winding down, flexing her sore toes in her shoes.  The sandals she’d chosen for her date with Grissom were pretty, but weren’t designed for a few hours standing in front of a table bent over evidence. 

But eventually she reached into her purse for her cellphone, and pressed the appropriate buttons.  The last text message flashed up on the tiny screen again. 

Call me.  I’ll be up.  GG 

She debated.  It was very late; but Grissom knew quite well how long analysis could take.  And Sara still felt guilty about leaving in the middle of the date she’d promised him. 

The annoyance was on her own behalf.  I was having a good time, dammit.  With Grissom.  It’s been a long time since I’ve had that kind of fun. 

Finally, Sara punched some more buttons.  His phone rang only once; then his voice was in her ear, warm and low.  “Hello, Sara.” 

She couldn’t help smiling into the silvery night.  “Caller ID?” 

“Of course.  How else can I dodge Hodges?” 

That made her chuckle, which was echoed on his end.  She could also hear the faint tinny sound of a crowd’s roar.  “What are you watching?” 

The roar cut off.  “Baseball in Japan.  This TV seems to have every cable channel known to mankind.” 

She had to laugh at that too.  “No roach racing?” 

“That’s not on until four.”  She heard him shift, the slide of cloth.  “Interesting case?” 

“Kidnapping.  Four-year-old girl.”  She sighed.  “The pressure’s always on in those.” 

“I remember.  How’s it going?” 

Sara rolled her shoulders, working out the tension.  “It turned out to be a custody snatch.  The father called to taunt the mother, and that was that; he didn’t even have the brains to call from a pay phone.” 

“Nice when they make it easy for you.” 

She snorted.  “Yeah, well, it would have been nicer if he’d called a little sooner.” 

“Sara…”  She could practically feel him hesitating.  “I had a good time tonight.” 

“Me too,” she said honestly.  The reality of the situation dawned on her, and she smirked.  “Actually, my getting called in, it might have been a good thing.  Saves us the awkward post-date conversation.” 

“This doesn’t count?” Grissom said humorously, and her smirk deepened.  “I suppose you’re right.  Me trying to kiss you, you punching my lights out…” 

She snickered.  “Yeah, well, that’s the risk you run.” 

“Would you have let me, Sara?”  His voice had gone soft and serious, and she switched the phone from one ear to the other nervously. 

“No.  I--I mean, not yet.”  She bit her lip.  Where had all her cool control gone? 

“I understand.”  He didn’t sound disappointed.  “I really don’t want to push, Sara.” 

Honesty compelled her, even as she fought against revealing too much.  “I would want to, Griss.  It just wouldn’t be--smart.”  The memory of his kisses was far too clear right now, the incredulous pleasure she had felt and how his touch had fed her in some way, alleviated some of her hurt if only for a moment. 

“I know what you mean,” he agreed, and she relaxed somewhat. 

He’s been incredibly open with me so far.  I have to trust him, at least a little, it’s only fair. 

This won’t work if I don’t. 

“Thank you for tonight,” he added softly, and she smiled again. 

“I’m...glad you’re here, Grissom.”