Light In The Mirror

Halfway to the Moon




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 sonnet is #104.  The lizard shown above is by the fabulous artist Ursula Vernon, who didn't give me specific permission to use the image but has previously offered blanket permission to people wanting to iconize her artwork and so forth.  

Thanks, as always, to Cincoflex for everything, Trialia for offering much-needed reassurance, and everyone who has left a review or otherwise told me what you think!   I wouldn't do this without you.


*********

It was an itchy, fizzy sort of feeling, Sara decided, knowing that Grissom was within twenty miles of her, practically within arms’ reach.  But she also figured that she’d get used to it in time. 

Eventually. 

She didn’t see him for three days after he came for dinner, more because her work got hectic than anything else, but she did call him Monday night to see how he was settling in, and to thank him for the flowers.  They ended up talking for almost two hours, about forensics and the Las Vegas crew and nothing in particular, and while Sara yawned through most of Tuesday, she was surprised at how pleased she was by the situation. 

It feels like my life is actually going the way it’s supposed to.  For once.  To be sure, she’d never envisioned anything like this, not when she was still in Vegas and not in her unhappy, half-smothered daydreams since.  In all their previous interactions, Grissom had held the power, whether he realized it or not; now, she was the one ostensibly in charge, and he was the supplicant.  It soothed some of her apprehension, but Sara was also aware that she preferred a relationship that was more or less equal in both give and take. 

Well.  Hopefully we’ll get there eventually. 

And in the meantime...oh, in the meantime, it was lovely to be courted.  From the Thursday noon when he met her for a quick lunch near her office building, to the Saturday when he turned up at the house and spent most of the afternoon helping Kimmy and Sara with the ten-year-old’s science project, to inviting her for walks in the evening, Grissom was proving himself all she had dreamed he could be, and more.  Yet it wasn’t the things he did for her that she valued, or even the little gifts that he sent her--it was the fact that he not only cared, but was showing it at last. 

Sometimes she feared that her heart couldn’t stretch enough to take it all in.  Other times--usually on waking from another absurd, chilling dream--she wondered dismally when it would all vanish, leaving her cold and alone again. 

 

Among the many things that astonished Grissom about his chosen new life was the ease he felt with it.  Finding something to do had been absurdly simple--he’d merely gotten in touch with an old friend at the Smithsonian Institution, who when hearing that Grissom would be in town indefinitely, promptly offered him a job working with the Institution’s enormous insect collection.  It didn’t pay well, but Grissom wasn’t doing it for the money.  Work had been most of his focus for most of his life, and as a consequence he spent little; his townhouse had been the major purchase of recent years.  A superior financial advisor and judicious investments had left him plenty of funds to purchase the occasional racing roach, and still have so much left over that if he cared to, he could retire and live quite comfortably. 

To keep his hand in, Grissom also made it known to various local law enforcement agencies that he was available for consults.  That paid.  And it proved that he could probably make a living consulting, if he wanted to; something he had decided he needed to think about.  Things were still very uncertain, but if he did succeed in a relationship with Sara, he could very well end up staying in Virginia permanently. 

The idea distressed him a little; after all, his home and friends were back in Nevada.  But Grissom refused to worry just yet.  There were far too many variables still in play, and no need to borrow trouble. 

For a little while, he indulged himself in imagining a house hunt with Sara, trying to find the perfect place for them to share.  But somehow it always morphed into his townhouse, and him opening the door to let her in, watching with pleasure as she put her clothes in his closet and her plants in his windows. 

Making it her own. 

 

Grissom stared at the small envelope, bemused.  It wasn’t often that his mail included something pink; rarer still did it have the image of Barbie emblazoned on it.  In fact, I think I can safely say that I’ve never received anything with Barbie on it before.  But among the bills and one check and the ubiquitous junk mail he’d fished from his post office box lay this new missive, and while Grissom didn’t precisely recognize the careful, round handwriting, he was reasonably sure he knew the sender. 

He took his handful of mail over to one of the counters that dotted the post office’s lobby, and opened the pink envelope first, curious and amused.  Sure enough, it was from the Sidle children, though Kimmy was obviously handling the correspondence for the both of them.  Moreover, it was an invitation--to a birthday party for Sara. 

Grissom realized he was delighted to be invited, though he sincerely hoped that the pink-and-doll theme did not extend to the party itself.  He’d already broached the subject with Ed, as delicately as possible, and discovered that birthdays were sacred in the Sidle household--natal days meant family celebrations, no exceptions.  That had put paid to his plan for a private birthday dinner, though Grissom supposed he could just as easily take her out a day later for the same purpose. 

The invitation included a pre-stamped RSVP postcard, also pink.  Grissom carefully checked the appropriate box to say he would attend, grateful that he had no need to worry about the date.  One advantage of being unattached to a lab was the ability to make his own schedule. 

Then he put the postcard aside with a smile, and turned to the rest of his mail, his thoughts already running ahead to the date.  And I already have a gift. 

Ten days later he was pulling into the parking lot of a public park near the Sidle house, a little nervous.  He’d had dinner with Sara’s family twice since the first time, but Grissom figured that this event would include some of Sara’s friends, and he had realized suddenly that he knew very little about them.  Sara hadn’t spoken much of friends, merely making reference in passing to colleagues with whom she occasionally went out for lunch or drinks.  Ed had accepted Grissom with an ease that astonished the CSI, but Ed had his reasons. 

Are they going to look at me and see a weird old man?  Are they going to ask her later why she even lets me hang around?  What am I going to talk to them about?  It wasn’t something he’d normally care about at all, but he didn’t want Sara harmed by her association with him. 

Get a hold of yourself.  Grissom shook off the specter of social unpleasantries.  I’m sure either Ed or Sara supervised the invitations.  They wouldn’t have asked you if they didn’t want you here. 

He parked his car and climbed out, scooping up the small wrapped box that held Sara’s present, then shut the door and looked around. 

His first impression was one of overwhelming green, quite a contrast to Vegas’ arid summers despite the artificially sustained lawns.  The park was laid out like a long, winding ribbon along the creek that ran through its center; it was never even a quarter-mile across, but was miles long, and thick with trees.  To one side of the lot were a couple of tennis courts and two basketball courts, along with a small building housing sanitary facilities; following instructions, Grissom went the other direction, towards the playground equipment a little ways away.  There were quite a few children and families about, but as he drew closer he spotted a picnic table ornamented with clusters of helium balloons, and suddenly recognized Sara’s slender energy setting out platters on the tablecloth. 

It was just her at the moment, and he was able to get quite close before he chose to speak.  “They’re making you work at your own party?” 

She straightened with a gasp, but instead of cussing him out as she might once have, she turned and astonished Grissom by giving him a quick hug--so quick that his hands had only time to land on her waist before she was letting him go again.  “Hey, Griss, you know me--I have to have something to do.” 

“It’s that or tie her to a chair, and we don’t have any rope,” Ed added, appearing with a cooler on wheels. 

Grissom willed his heart to calm from the speed Sara had inspired.  “Can I help?” he asked, and Ed gave his trademark grin, with a hint of mischief. 

“Sure, just do whatever Sara tells you.”  Grissom’s brows went up, and he heard Sara make an exasperated noise, but Ed was already heading back towards his minivan. 

Grissom turned back to Sara.  “I am yours to command,” he said, managing to keep his face straight, and she snorted. 

“You can help Smart Boy with the rest of the stuff if you like,” she said.  “There isn’t that much left.” 

She was right.  Within minutes, the table was loaded with platters of goodies, most under lids of some kind to keep off the yellowjackets, though Grissom couldn’t resist spilling a little of his soda onto a paper plate to attract a few for closer observation.  Almost before he knew it, the kids turned up and Joey attached himself to Grissom’s elbow to demand information about the brightly striped wasps.  Kimmy and her jacks-playing friend gave the plate a wide berth but didn’t protest. 

It took a little while to satisfy Joey’s questions, and when Grissom looked up, he realized that other guests had arrived while he wasn’t looking.  Sara introduced him to the three women and three men; four were colleagues of hers, and two worked with Ed but were apparently friends with both siblings. 

Not one of them looked at him with anything other than mild interest.  The two microbiologists got involved in debating with Ed almost at once, and Sara distributed beers to her coworkers, grinning as one woman’s face lit. 

“Dr. Grissom!  Of course, the entomologist.  I attended one of your lectures a few years ago.”  She shook her curly head.  “I didn’t make the connection with that beard.” 

It was as easy as that.  She asked a few insightful questions about forensic entomology, and Grissom found himself suddenly at ease in answering them and discussing the latest in forensic science.  When he looked around for Sara a few minutes later, she was leaning against the table and sipping her own beer, smiling to herself. 

After that it was filling plates and finding seats among the various folding chairs and picnic benches available.  The food was mostly vegetarian picnic fare, salads and chips and deviled eggs, and at some point Ed had started up a grill to cook veggie burgers and real hot dogs.  The three kids bolted their supper and then headed back out to play; Joey had apparently already made several friends among the other children making use of the equipment. 

A small pile of presents had accumulated at the end of the table, and Grissom added his little box to it while Sara wasn’t looking.  This wasn’t quite like any birthday party he’d attended before, not that he’d been to one recently, but he was finding it enjoyable as the comfortable conversation continued.  He snagged a chair next to Sara’s after he refilled his plate. 

“Having fun?” she asked lightly, chasing some watermelon around her own plate with a fork. 

Grissom swallowed a bite of egg.  “Yes, actually.”  He cocked his head.  “Is Ed usually that twitchy?” 

They both looked across to where Sara’s brother was talking with one of his colleagues, and glancing up fairly frequently.  Sara snickered. 

“He’s waiting for Gracie to show up.  She’s got a housecleaning scheduled today, so she said she’d be late.” 

As if on cue, the redhead emerged from a car that had just pulled into the lot, hurrying towards them with a rather large box wrapped in an enormous bow.  She gave Sara a breathless hug that was returned with warmth, and then Ed was there, teasing her for being late and finding her a plate and a drink.  Grissom watched, finding himself amused by the dynamics underlying their interactions.  If he didn’t miss his guess, Gracie was as attracted to Ed as Ed was to her--and was equally as shy about it.  Though, he was sure, starting a romance after losing a partner had to be a delicate business. 

They all sat and chatted as the afternoon swung slowly towards evening, nibbling on food as the mood took them and discussing topics ranging from biomechanics to politics to dirty jokes.  The other guests were as brilliant as Sara and Ed, Grissom could tell, and were all fairly likeable, being curious and open-minded.  It didn’t surprise him that the Sidles chose people of like minds and tempers. 

Eventually it dawned on him that he’d been chosen too. 

But before he could work the thought over, the three kids plunged back into the group, demanding that Sara open her presents so that the cake could be served. 

Grissom half-expected Sara to be diffident about it, but instead she seated herself in front of the pile cheerfully, looking anticipatory.  I don’t know why I figured that, he thought, taking a seat further down the table as the group rearranged itself.  Maybe because she’s so shy about accepting praise…  Not that he’d given her much during his last stint as her boss, he thought grimly, but pushed the memories aside. 

We’re making new ones. 

With her small relations in close attendance, Sara pulled the first package off the pile and began demolishing the wrapping.  It happened to be the package from Gracie, and Sara opened the lid and pulled out a large, bright pink, rather startled-looking stuffed lizard.  It sat on its haunches in a way no real lizard did, appearing to Grissom’s eyes like something from a cartoon, and judging from the grin on Gracie’s face and the chuckle emanating from Ed, there was more to the gift than met the eye.  Sara started laughing as soon as she saw it, obviously delighted. 

“Not another one!  I’m going to have to give up my loft to the reptiles.”  But she belied the tease by hugging the toy, and Grissom’s throat tightened a little at how young it made her look. 

The rest of the gifts were smaller, books and CDs and a gift card, and a fingerpainted poster from Joseph.  Grissom’s gift was the second-to-last on the pile; Sara slid the small card out of the envelope he’d tucked under the ribbon, and to his delight he saw a faint flush bloom on her cheeks when she read what he’d written.  Unlike the other cards she’d received, she didn’t read his aloud, ignoring Joey’s demand that she do so and Ed’s speculative look.  Instead she put it back in the envelope and slipped the ribbon from the little box. 

It was another thrill to see her face when she lifted the lid and saw the sunburst medallion.  Sara’s lips parted in surprise, and then her eyes flew up to his.  “How did you know?” she demanded.  Grissom merely put on his best enigmatic expression, giving her only a smile. 

Two of the women oohed appreciatively when Sara lifted out the necklace.  It didn’t match the purple shirt she was wearing, but she put it on anyway.  “Can you hook it for me please, Kimmy?” she asked, and her niece’s small fingers made short work of the catch. 

One of Ed’s colleagues shot Grissom an appraising glance, as though the man was reevaluating Grissom’s standing in Sara’s life.  The CSI returned the look with equanimity.  Yes, I’m here, and I intend to remain here.  Get used to it. 

Then Ed clapped his hands and stood.  “Cake time!  You guys pick a key, and I’ll be right back.” 

“No singing!” Sara immediately countered, raising another round of laughter, and the issue was debated until Ed returned from the minivan in the glow of a candle-lit cake.  He began singing in a strong baritone that nevertheless failed to resolve in any major key; Grissom rather thought the other guests joined in mainly to drown him out. 

Sara covered her face, still laughing; Grissom sat quietly as the tune wound to an agonizing close, watching her contentedly.  Ed set down the cake with a flourish, and she dropped her hands, her grin sparkling.  “Make a wish, Aunt Sara!” Joey shouted, and Sara put an arm around him, squeezed her eyes shut, and blew all the candles out at one go. 

 

Grissom stayed to help clean up in the cricket-singing dusk, wary of overstaying his welcome and yet not quite willing to leave just yet.  Joseph was getting a little whiny, and both children were fairly grubby, but Ed herded them into throwing out trash and collecting the balloons before letting them go back to the swings for one last ride. 

Sara walked Grissom to his car, slipping her hand into his as though it were completely natural, and he wrapped his fingers gently around hers and marveled.  They passed by Ed and Gracie, who were standing close together in the dim, talking in low voices, and Grissom wondered how long they had been inching towards a relationship. 

“Thanks for coming.  And for the necklace,” Sara said when they reached his vehicle, sounding a little awkward.  Her free hand reached up to brush over his gift.  “How--”           

Grissom shook his head.  “That’s my secret.”  His gaze rose briefly to her lips, and he was tempted, so tempted-- 

But it was her choice.  “Happy birthday, Sara.  Thank you for inviting me.” 

She hesitated, as though about to say something more, then leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek, soft and lingering.  “See you on Saturday,” she whispered, and then was gone. 

It was, Grissom reflected, among the best thanks he’d ever received. 


 

Sara shut the door to her room at last, and looked at the heap of gifts on the old paint-spattered worktable that had belonged to Jenny.  It had been a long, if delightful, day, and Ed had had to go into work for some emergency, so it had fallen to her to put Joseph to bed and make sure Kimmy wasn’t reading past lights-out. 

Finally.  She blew out a breath.  She hadn’t really had time to assimilate everything.  Most of the gifts were trifles, a couple were dear--the hand-beaded hairsticks from Kimmy, for instance, who had inherited her mother’s artistic bent--but there was one that held her attention. 

Sara walked over to the table and picked up the little box from Grissom.  The necklace was still around her throat--and she had her suspicions as to how he’d figured that one out--but she wanted to reread the card, which she’d tucked inside the box for safekeeping. 

His familiar neat handwriting, and Shakespeare.  Of course. 

 

          To me, fair friend, you never can be old,

          For as you were when first your eye I eyed,

          Such seems your beauty still.  Three winters’ cold

          Have from the forests shook three summers’ pride,

          Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turn’d

          In process of the seasons have I seen,

          Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn’d,

          Since I first saw you fresh, which yet are green.

          Ah, yet doth beauty, like a dial-hand,

          Steal from his figure, and no pace perceived;

          So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand,

          Hath motion, and mine eye may be deceived:

                For fear of which, hear this, thou age unbred;

                Ere you were born was beauty’s summer dead. 

 

And then just his name, the quick scrawl of Gil, even though she couldn’t recall ever calling him by his first name. 

She’d never really worried about growing older--never had time--and yet, the words were balm to some small sore point in her, that had so often wondered what about her made things so impossible for him. 

“Ambiguous, too,” she murmured to himself; as was so often true of both Shakespeare and Grissom, the sonnet could be taken two ways--either a compliment of true friendship, or the adoration of something more.  “At least this time I know what you mean.” 

Sara tucked the card back into its envelope, and put the envelope in the drawer where she kept the dried roses from his first bouquet.  She’d long suspected that Grissom, as erudite and intelligent as he was, might also be hiding a deep sense of romance beneath his reserve.  It seemed to fit someone who could quote poetry at will and who paid obscure and moving compliments when one wasn’t expecting them. 

She let out a sigh, trying to settle the flutter in her stomach.  When she’d told Grissom he could stay, she hadn’t really considered what it would be like to have him not only there, but trying to woo her.  It wasn’t an easy thing; she ranged from moments of wanting to pounce on him to times when the old anger and hurt resurfaced, and it was sometimes hard to find a balance. 

But compared to the alternative…  She looked at herself in the mirror, noting the tangled hair, the plum-colored shirt, the gleam of the medallion around her throat.  It was pretty, yes, and she had wanted it when she’d seen it, but the fact that Grissom had chosen it for her made it doubly valuable, because it was tangible proof of his…well…desire. 

“I don’t know where we’re going,” she told her reflection softly.  “But no way am I quitting now.”