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.   Humble thanks as always to Cincoflex, who has patiently betaed this, and to Trialia, who gave me last-minute reassurance.   I made the animal sanctuary up out of whole cloth, but there is in fact an actual sanctuary near Reno (which is much further away from Las Vegas than my imaginary one).  If you're feeling Sara-like, Animal Ark does accept donations.      ********* “Gil.”  Sara, hands on her hips, stared up at him in exasperation.  Grissom turned his head to look down at her, his hands full of a case of large mounted beetles.  “What?”  She shook her head, exasperated to find him on the stepladder.  “I told you, you don't have to take those down.”  He pursed his lips, looking at the beetles.  “Your big Yosemite picture would look better up here.”  “No it wouldn't.  Come down.”  The look of appeal he shot her nearly softened her heart, but she frowned at him, and with a slightly exaggerated sigh he hung the case back on the wall and climbed off the stepladder.  “Sara--”  “What?” she said, frustrated.  “I told you I put up everything I wanted to put up.”  “But you've hardly touched this room,” Grissom retorted, sounding just as frustrated.  “It still looks basically the same as when you moved in!”  Sara took a deep breath, and forbore to mention the pictures she had hung, or the afghan over the back of the sofa, or the wooden screen, or her jacket hung next to his.  Instead she tried to control her voice.  “I like this room the way it is!  It's open and clean and it's just like you.  Why do you want to change it?”  Grissom opened his mouth, closed it, and then spoke.  “I want you to change it.  I told you, it's all yours to do whatever you like with!”  His face was a little flushed, his voice annoyed, but Sara saw a flicker of fear in his eyes, and insight suddenly dawned.  She gave herself a mental smack.  He's scared that if I don't change it, it means I'm not planning on staying.  Idiot.  Both of us.  She closed her eyes briefly, mastering her temper.  It's only been three weeks.  Of course he's scared.  I'm scared.  “Gil,” she said carefully.  “I don't want to change anything in here.  You're letting me repaint my office and redecorate the bedroom.  Hell, I even went and bought new towels for the bathroom, and that was totally over the top.”  She flashed him a small smile, and he managed half of one in return at the joke.  Sara stepped a pace forward and laid her hand on his chest.  “I like this room, I always have.  It's always fit my mental image of you.  Can't we just leave it the way it is?”  Grissom stared down at her hand for a long moment, then raised his own to cover it.  “Whatever you want.”  The soft promise made her a little impatient, but Sara chose not to push the issue at the moment, and slipped her hand free so she could put her arms around him.  “It's a good thing I have good taste,” she teased gently, and Grissom snorted and held her more tightly, sighing gustily next to her ear.  “I'm sorry,” he murmured.  “I didn't mean to push.”  Sara laid her head on his shoulder, smiling wryly even though he couldn't see her face.  He'll get a grip.  Eventually.      “So how's it going?”  Ed's voice was soft in her ear, and Sara gave Grissom's sleeping form one last look before closing the bedroom door and walking back to the living room, cradling the cellphone.  “It's fine,” she told him, meaning it.  “Things are going great.”  “Really?”   “Really.  You were right, Ed.  He is ready for this.”  Ed chuckled a little.  “Yeah--but how are you handling it?”  She rolled her eyes a little and flopped down on the couch, enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sun falling across it.  “I'm fine, Eddie.  A little overwhelmed I guess, but it's only been what, a few weeks?”  “The honeymoon's not over,” he teased.  “Just wait--”  “Bite me,” she riposted, stretching a little.  “Seriously, we're fine.”  “How's the new job?”  Sara laughed, and described it in detail, from her small whirlwind of a boss down to the ballistics tech who was the local wheelchair basketball champ, touching on colleagues congenial and hair-raising.  “Though I guess you can't expect to get along with everybody.”  “This is true,” Ed agreed.  “Hey, Joey says you answer his e-mails every day.  Don't let him take too much of your time, okay?”  Sara scoffed.  “Oh please.  Like answering takes so much effort.”  Joseph's notes were short, full of questions, and very nearly daily.  Sara enjoyed them a great deal; not only was it good to communicate with her small nephew, the letters were often an antidote to bleak cases.  “Yeah, well, he thinks e-mail is his private domain.”  Ed sighed.  “Listen, I'm going to be running out to Whitney next week, just so you know.  Only for a couple of days, to iron out some details with the administration.”  “Sounds good,” Sara said, smiling.  “Grace going to stay with the kids?”  Ed gave another sigh, this one exaggerated.  “Yeah, since you abandoned us to run away to Sin City with your lover...”  Sara hooted, trying to keep it quiet.  “You're just jealous.”  “Too right!  Right there where you can get married on a moment's notice.”  “So bring Gracie out here for a visit,” Sara suggested, grinning.  “Nick and I know this nice little chapel...”  “Not going to any place you've had to investigate, thanks,” her brother replied dryly.  She blinked in the sunlight.  “Actually, I'll give you a hint.  If you have an eleven-year-old daughter, you do not sneak off to Vegas or anywhere else for a quickie wedding.  You plan, so that she can be a flower girl or a junior bridesmaid.  Trust me on this.”  Ed groaned.  “I think I just broke out in hives.”  Sara had to laugh.  “It doesn’t have to be elaborate--just think of it as an excuse for a good party.”  “Yeah, well, I’ll wait until she’s actually agreed to marry me,” he said wryly.  “Probably a good idea,” Sara admitted, and an idea of her own bloomed.  “Hey, Ed, if you can find somebody else to watch the kids, why not ask Gracie to go with you to Whitney?  I don’t think she’s ever been west of the Rockies.”  “Huh.”  Ed sounded thoughtful.  “That’s pretty good.  It might make her feel better about moving out there, too.”  “Yup.”  A muted beeping reached Sara’s unencumbered ear.  “Hey, I gotta go.  Give everybody a hug for me?”  “You got it, sis.”  Sara said goodbye and closed the phone, knowing that Grissom had hit the snooze button in the other room and was probably sitting on the edge of the bed, scrubbing sleepily at his scalp with his eyes still shut.  He’s just so cute when he first wakes up.  Pursing her lips in a secret smile, she rose to go start the coffee.      Grissom still had trouble believing how easily everything had changed.  Or, to put it more precisely, how easily I’ve changed.  Not that it had been all easy by any means, but as he sat across from Sara while they ate their evening meal, he marveled at the simple pleasure of it.  Some part of him kept expecting a backlash, a rebellion in his solitary soul, but at the moment it seemed that his soul, like the rest of him, was content to bask blissfully in Sara’s presence.  And she didn’t seem bothered either, he had to admit.  True, on the weekends they were evolving a pattern of spending some time together and some apart, one office or the other serving as a private space, but sooner or later they would wander out again and somehow settle down together.  Grissom found that Sara seemed to find touch just as reassuring as he did; tucking her feet under his thigh on the couch, reaching out across the breakfast bar to absentmindedly link their fingers, once or twice sitting at his feet and leaning against his legs when they were watching TV.  He did the same thing--taking her hand or her arm when they were walking somewhere, or finding her sprawled on her stomach on the floor in front of the TV and lying down crosswise so he could rest his head on her back while he read.  He did it without really thinking about it, and that was what surprised him.  The ease was reassuring, but Grissom still kept thinking about the small box he’d secreted at the bottom of a half-empty can of barbecue-flavored mealworms, figuring that was one place Sara was unlikely to stumble across it.  He wanted it accessible, not out of immediate reach in a safe-deposit box.  It was still too soon to ask her, but…  Sara took a sip of iced tea and set down her glass.  “I’m glad tomorrow’s Friday,” she said, stirring her chili.  “It’s been a long week.”  Grissom swallowed a bite of toast and nodded.  “Do you want to do something special this weekend?  We could take a day trip or something.”  “You just want to drive the convertible,” Sara teased, and he grinned.  “While I won’t deny the idea is of interest, I was thinking more of just getting out of the house for a while.”  “Sure, why not.”  Sara shrugged casually.  “As long as we sleep in that morning.”  Grissom arched a brow.  “You?  Sleep?”  “I was thinking more of you, actually.  I know you're tired.”  She took a bite of chili, and Grissom, stung, frowned.  “I'm fine, Sara.”  The look she shot him was skeptical, but it had an edge of appeal.  “Oh, come on, Gil, I can't be worried about you?”  He opened his mouth to riposte, but bit back the words as he realized she wasn't being critical.  Relax.  She cares.  He let out a breath and gave her a rueful smile.  “I'm sorry.  I'm not very used to having anyone concerned for my welfare.”  Her shoulders relaxed, and he picked up his fork and added, “Except Catherine, and her concern is usually the conversational equivalent of a bulldozer.”  Sara choked on her bite and covered her mouth with her napkin, muffled laughter escaping around the cloth.  Grissom smirked, pleased at the result.  “Oh, you are so right,” she managed eventually, wiping her eyes with the napkin.  “And now she's going to wonder why I'm trying not to giggle when I talk to her.”  “Tell her that Jim just told you a bad joke,” he suggested, chuckling when she gave him a skeptical look.  “What?  It works for me.”      Squinting a little against the Saturday morning sunshine, Grissom slid behind the wheel of Sara's convertible for the first time, adjusting the tilt of the seat and the steering wheel as Sara settled into place beside him.  “So where are we going?” she asked, pulling on her seatbelt.  Her sunglasses were already in place, and she'd tugged on an old LVPD cap to keep her hair from the wind.  Grissom put on his own seatbelt and turned over the engine, impressed at the purr, which was quiet even with the roof down.  “Wait and see.”  He put a hand on her headrest and turned to back the car out of the driveway, appreciating the lack of a blind spot as the car rolled down into the street.  “Are we going to the body farm?” Sara persisted, sounding a little hopeful, as Grissom put the car in first and depressed the accelerator cautiously.  It had been a long time since he'd driven a sports car.  “Nope,” he replied, but filed the notion away for another time.  Now that he thought about it, he remembered that he'd meant to take Sara there not long after she'd first arrived in Vegas, but the intention had faded as their relationship grew strained.  “I'm not going to tell you, so you can stop guessing.”  Sara peered at him over her sunglasses for a moment.  “Oh, like that's going to stop me.”  Grissom laughed, and let the car go a little faster.  It was an enjoyable trip.  Grissom had never been a true gearhead, but he could appreciate a fine machine when he encountered one.  Growing used to the Mercedes, he opened it up a bit on the highway, catching the flash of Sara's grin out of the corner of his eye.  “Nice, isn't it?” she said, projecting a little to be heard over the rush of air.  “Exhilarating,” he agreed, and pointed the car towards the mountains.  Two hours later they were high in the hills, pulling into a graveled parking lot next to a low rambling building surrounded by trees.  Sara read the sign over the door aloud.  “George Donald Memorial Animal Sanctuary?  This is the place for abused show animals, right?”  Grissom nodded, shutting off the engine.  “Among others.  It's where the Shasti elephants came after that trial two years ago.”  “Oh yeah.”  Sara shuddered as she took off her seatbelt, but brightened.  “This is totally cool, though!  Do we actually get to meet the animals?”  “Some of them,” Grissom replied as they got out and started up towards the building, pleased beyond measure at her delight.  “Awesome!”  His pleasure continued through the afternoon as Sara cuddled a young one-eyed kit fox, donned a gauntlet so a huge wing-damaged owl could perch on her arm, and leaned over a low fence to let an elephant's trunk gently explore her.  I was right.  The memory of the skinned gorilla, and Sara's desire to find some resolution in the case, had served him well.  Her face glowed as she met creature after creature--not all of them touchable, but most quite observable--and heard from the staff their often-sad histories.  And when they came to the big enclosure that housed several African tarantulas taken from an unscrupulous pet dealer, he happily consented to letting two of them use him as a climbing gym.  “Here,” he said, extending his hand to her.  “They're quite gentle.”  Sara's expression was mingled doubt and amusement, but as he knew, she couldn't resist a challenge, and didn't so much as twitch when the big arachnid tapped lightly from his palm to hers.  The reluctant smile that crept onto her face as she and the spider eyed one another made him think that he might just make use of her Christmas gift to him sometime soon.  “You're some kind of VIP here,” she said in a low voice as the staff member in charge of the spiders returned them to their cage.  “Don't think I didn't notice.”  Grissom shrugged.  He'd been quite aware that she would pick up on the fact that they were being given a private tour rather than the briefer, less interactive one meant for the general public.  “I know one of the founders--she's had me in to consult about insects a few times, mostly as a diet for one animal or another.”   He didn't mention the donation he sent every year.  It wasn't that sizable compared to many of the contributions the place got, anyway.  Nor did he mention that it was something of a tribute to Sara herself--to her determination, and her respect for life.  It was no less than he expected when she wrote a check herself after the tour.  The sun was going down when they finally left the sanctuary, Sara brushing idly at the several kinds of fur that had accumulated on her slacks.  Grissom took the opportunity to dust some from the seat of her pants--or, at least, that was what he told her.  Sara snickered at his look of innocence.  “I'm starving,” she declared as they neared the car.  “Please tell me there's someplace to eat between here and Las Vegas.”  “Several places,” Grissom assured her, managing to open the car door for her before she reached it.  “It depends on whether you want Italian, fast food, or down-home.”  Sara swung herself into the seat.  “Hmm...it's probably a risk, but I'll go with down-home, if you don't mind.”  “They have vegetarian entrées,” Grissom noted mildly, closing the door and rounding the car.  “I wouldn’t have suggested it if they didn’t.”  Sara gave him another smile.  “Sorry, I should have known.”  Grissom hadn’t been to the restaurant in almost a year, but it was just as he remembered it--rather shabby-looking on the outside and low-key on the inside, but with delectable food, and doing a decent business in tourists driving through the area and canny locals.  The two of them got a booth by a window, and Sara ordered the fish chowder after a quick perusal of the menu.  Grissom chose Brunswick stew.  “Um, if you haven’t been here in so long, how’d you know they have vegetarian stuff?” Sara asked after they ordered, looking puzzled.  “I mean, you don’t eat them.”  Grissom shrugged, a little reluctant to explain.  “Ah, I…always check, now.  For about the last five years or so.”  “…Oh.”  Sara’s eyes widened, and Grissom winced internally, thinking of all those years wasted on hopeless yearning.  He wondered dismally if his words had hurt her, but after a moment Sara let out her breath and put her hand over his.  “All that matters is that we’re here,” she repeated softly, and the knot in his gut dissolved.   They had old-fashioned cheesecake for dessert, Sara sighing happily as she devoured it down to the last crumb.  “Good thing you’re not a vegan,” Grissom teased, offering her the last bite of his own slice.  She leaned over and closed her lips over his fork, bringing his body to attention as she slowly slid the morsel off the tines, her eyes laughing at him.  “Yep,” she said when she’d swallowed.  “In fact, cheesecake is one of my reasons not to be a vegan.”  Grissom set down his fork, folded his hands, and regarded her, impressing the moment into his memory--Sara with her face alight and her lips curling in a smile, relaxed and replete and totally at ease.  She gave him a puckish, inquiring look.  “Yes?”  He cocked his head.  “Let’s go home.”  Her smile went sultry.    It was full dark when they left, and chilly enough to put the top up, and Grissom found it a peaceful ride, with the ribbon of the road unrolling just ahead of the headlights and Sara singing softly along with the radio.  It seemed like their own private cocoon of warmth and darkness, suspended in time; the hum of the engine and the wheels, the weight of Sara’s hand along his thigh--not trying to distract him, just maintaining the touch.  Contentment can be found in the strangest places.  And much later, when they were as close as skin allowed, drifting into sleep with the last of their hungers sated, Sara shifted and whispered against his shoulder.  “Thank you for today.”  He just smiled.       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