Light In The Mirror

Halfway to the Moon

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 Nutshell Studies do exist, and while I’ve never seen them myself, the research I’ve done indicates that they really are amazing.  Details can be found here, and an interesting look at Mrs. Lee here.  The location of the CMO as described is approximate, and the building’s interior is made up, but the Nutshells are open to be viewed by the public, by appointment.  Call 800-833-6263 for more info if you’re in the area. 

Many, many thanks to M. Baumgarten for the suggestion!

  


*********

Grissom had to admit to himself, this wasn’t quite what he expected. 

But, as he listened to Joey whine and watched Kimmy sulk, he acknowledged to himself that it was natural.  Ed, experienced parent, seemed mostly annoyed by his offspring’s bad behavior, and Gracie was her usual quietly cheerful self, but Sara was obviously embarrassed and trying to hide it.  Grissom wanted to tell her it was okay, he wasn’t offended, but figured it would probably just make things worse. 

So he kept his mouth shut and his hands in his pockets, and walked along beside the little family, observing because it was what he did. 

The day had started well.  Kimmy and Joseph had called in an earlier promise from Sara to take them to the Zoo, and somehow that had become all six of them.  Grissom didn’t mind; he was interested in seeing the animals, and outings with the children were usually quite pleasant.  He’d thought there might be a chance that he and Sara could split off for a few minutes alone, in turn for watching the kids while Ed and Gracie did the same. 

However, it didn’t work that way. 

First, it had started to rain about ten minutes after they’d arrived.  Not a downpour, but a steady drizzle that gradually soaked through clothing.  Ed and Sara had proposed leaving, but the children had begged to stay, so Ed had bought them plastic ponchos at one of the gift shops and they’d kept going. 

But the tigers were asleep, and the elephants were holding still, and the hippos were underwater; the zebras were in their shelter at the back of their enclosure, the turtles were all in hiding, and all they could see of the Komodo dragon was the end of his tail peeking out from the hollow where he’d curled up.  None of the inhabitants seemed to want to be seen.  Half the displays seemed to be closed for renovation, and Joey got scared at the sight of the gorillas. 

They trailed from one exhibit to the next, and the children started finding fault with everything.  Joey pouted, and when Kimmy wanted Sara to buy her a big stuffed lion in one of the gift shops and Sara refused, she pouted too. 

“May I buy it for her?” Grissom had asked in a low voice, thinking perhaps that it just exceeded Sara’s treat budget for the trip; he’d been considering getting the kids something anyway, because he found it surprisingly fun to do so.  It wasn’t that he wanted to bribe them to like them--he simply enjoyed the delight on their faces. 

But Sara had shaken her head.  “She has allowance, and I don’t want her expecting to get goodies every time we go somewhere.  Thanks, though.” 

Now the five of them headed back for the entrance, the children dragging their feet and Ed looking grim.  Sara was shivering a little with the damp cold, and Grissom wanted to offer her his jacket, but he’d already donated it to Kimmy.  So instead he stepped up beside her and put an arm around her shoulders, rubbing to try to warm her up, and she shot him a grateful look. 

“I’m hungry,” Joey whimpered.  “Can we go to McDonald’s?” 

“Nope,” Ed said firmly.  “You didn’t eat your lunch.”  Joey had turned up his nose at the sandwiches they’d brought along.  “You can have it now if you want.” 

The little boy began to sniffle.  “I don’t want ‘em!  I want McDonald’s!” 

“Too bad.”  Ed swung his son up into his arms, his tone level.  “Going out to eat is a treat.  You two have been naughty all day, so you’re not getting a treat.” 

Joey started crying, not very hard; Ed ignored it, simply settling Joey onto his hip.  Behind them, Kimmy heaved a deep, put-upon sigh, and Grissom carefully kept to himself his amusement at her sudden similarity to Hodges. 

It was a silent group that got into the minivan for the trip back home.  With a jerk of her head, Sara pointed Grissom to the front seat and took his place in the back next to Joey.  Kimmy sat in the middle seat with Gracie, still sighing every so often, though Joseph fell asleep halfway home. 

When they got there, Ed carried Joey upstairs to bed, while Sara fixed Kimmy a scrambled egg and toast--her request--for supper.  “I think they’re both coming down with colds,” Sara told Grissom quietly.  “Not that it’s an excuse for their behavior, but it could be an explanation.”  She gave him a wry look.  “You do realize, this means that we’ll all probably catch it too.” 

Grissom shrugged, not alarmed at the idea.  “I’ve got a strong immune system.”  He watched as Sara decanted eggs onto the plate.  “Do you want me to, uh…take off?”  Their plans of staying at the Zoo until sunset and then enjoying dinner out had rather collapsed. 

Sara shook her head quickly.  “No, please stay.  Um, if you want to.”  She looked rather uncertain, and Grissom smiled at her. 

“I want to.” 

Sara put the food on a tray and she and Gracie took it upstairs to Kimmy, who had retreated to her room.  Grissom wandered out to the davenport to wait for Sara, and Ed came out of his study and collapsed on the other end of the couch with an explosive sigh of his own. 

“Sorry about that, man,” he said, scrubbing his hands through his hair.  “Some days are just like that.” 

Grissom shook his head, and grinned a little.  “Don’t worry about it.  Nice to see they’re normal.” 

Ed snorted.  “Too much so, sometimes.  I hope you’re planning on hanging around for dinner.” 

“If you don’t mind.”  It was pretty much a rhetorical statement at this point; Grissom was still amazed by the swiftness with which Ed had accepted Grissom’s presence, not only in Sara’s life but in that of their family. 

Ed yawned without replying, looking sleepy and rumpled; he’d changed out of the thick sweater that he’d worn to the Zoo, and he hadn’t bothered to comb his hair afterwards.  Grissom regarded the other man.  “I do admire the way you two are raising them--they are well-behaved most of the time.” 

“I can guess what you’re thinking,” Ed said, and his voice was amused. 

Grissom let a brow go up.  “What am I thinking?” 

“You’re wondering how a guy from an abusive background can manage to keep his own family from going the same route.” 

Grissom cocked his head.  “While it’s true that I see a lot of repeated behavior in my line of work, I’ve never doubted the ability of a person to overcome their background.” 

Ed nodded, conceding.  “I assume Sara’s given you the lowdown on our family, if you can call it that.” 

Grissom made an assenting noise, hiding his shame at how long it had taken for Sara to trust him with the information, and Ed sighed. 

“I’m not proud of my part in that, you know--I got out of it as fast as I could, and I left Sara behind.” 

“You were a kid,” Grissom interjected, but Ed’s expression didn’t ease. 

“I could have done something.  Heck, I could have stayed in touch more at least.  But that’s done, I can’t change it.”  He sighed.  “Anyway, I had the perfect example of what not to do in a relationship.  I know a lot of guys in that situation grow up thinking that violence is okay, but I didn’t--all it did was made me want to run away from it.  In fact, I ran away from relationships, period.”  He snorted.  “Until Jenny got a hold of me, that is.” 

He rubbed lean hands over his face.  “I had help there, too--her family was perfectly normal.  I didn’t really believe in happy families until I met her parents.  She knew what a marriage should be like, she knew what it was like to grow up without having to be afraid that your dad was going to lay your mom out on the kitchen floor.” 

His casual words made Grissom’s stomach twist.  Sara had told him some things, yes, but she hadn’t given him a lot of detail.  But he didn’t interrupt, letting Ed tell his story at his own pace. 

“She made me go for counseling before we got married.  It helped.  And we sat down and talked about how we were going to raise our kids, the choices we were going to have to make.  She was the most compassionate person I’ve ever met, Doc.”  The grief that showed in his eyes was gentle, but Grissom could easily imagine a time when it was a tearing thing instead. 

“She gave me a good start on things, and I’ve tried to keep it up.  Sara was my lifeline.  I don’t know what I’d do without her and Gracie.” 

“Sara says she’s not good with children, but she is,” Grissom offered, and Ed chuckled. 

“I think she’s afraid that if she admits to being good with them, people will start asking her when she’s going to have some of her own.” 

Grissom blinked at that.  Children were a concept he’d only considered in the abstract for himself, and not at all for Sara.  “She never struck me as being particularly ambitious to be a mother.” 

“Oh, she’s not,” Ed assured him, though Grissom had to wonder if Ed really knew for sure.  “Says my two are enough.” 

Soft voices reached them as Gracie and Sara came down the stairs, and Ed grinned and tilted his head back to look at them.  “Hey, ladies.  Whattya want to eat?” 

Sara too had changed, into a worn Berkeley sweatshirt; to Grissom’s eyes she was adorable, reminding him of the young woman he’d first met years before.  Gracie was half-enveloped in one of Ed’s sweaters.  “Is there any quiche left?” 

Ed heaved himself to his feet again.  “I’ll check.” 

He disappeared into the kitchen; Gracie flashed them a grin and followed, and Sara sat down in the recliner and kicked off her shoes.  She looked tired.  “Are you all right?” Grissom asked. 

Sara shrugged.  “My feet hurt a little, that’s all.”  She curled her legs under her.  “I’m sorry about the kids.” 

 “Don’t worry about it,” he repeated.  “They can’t be well-behaved all the time.” 

Sara snickered.  “If only.” 

They were silent for a few minutes, relaxing into the comfort of being warm again and undogged by small whining people.  Then Gracie called from the kitchen. 

“You’re in luck.  There’s one sausage and one plain cheese left.” 

Sara glanced over at Grissom.  “That sound good to you?” 

 

They lingered over dinner, since it was early; Grissom hadn’t yet shared a meal with the two elder Sidles without the children present, and it was…fun.  Ed shared his sister’s sharp mind, and Gracie was no slouch herself; the debates flew thick and fast. 

Afterwards they somehow ended up playing a cutthroat game of Scrabble, with the big dictionary to hand.  Ed lost, mostly because he had no talent for spelling, but he didn’t seem to mind, and when he did remember the correct spelling his use of biochemical terms earned him a lot of points.  Gracie gave a respectable showing herself, but in the end it came down to the two CSIs and their voracious memories.    

Grissom and Sara managed a tie.  As they packed up the Scrabble set, Grissom couldn’t remember the last time he’d played a game for fun; his college days of poker for funding hardly counted, although they had been interesting.  And as he watched Sara put the game away into the coat closet, he realized that though he was still intent on wooing Sara, these quiet friendly times had become almost as important to him.  He’d always been a loner, preferring solitude to company, and rarely had he experienced this simple pleasure--the laughter, the stimulation of interaction. 

And be honest, sharing screwdrivers with Catherine isn’t quite the same thing. 

“Serendipity,” he murmured under his breath.  Making an unexpected and fortuitous discovery when searching for something else. 

It wasn’t quite on the level of the discovery of penicillin, but he’d take it. 

 

 

There were better ways to spend her time, certainly, but sometimes, one just had to stick with tradition. 

Besides, the bennies were good. 

Sara ripped open another tiny packet of M&Ms and tossed a few into her mouth.  Is it just me, or has “Fun Size” gotten smaller since I was a kid? 

Picking up her book, she returned to the story, getting lost in descriptions of plant life and fauna for a while before the doorbell rang again. 

Sighing, Sara stuck the book under her arm this time and got up from the chair she’d set next to the front door.  The big bowl of assorted candy sat on another chair, and she picked the bowl up and opened the door. 

“Trick or treat!” chorused three small figures, and Sara bent down to distribute handfuls of processed sugar, smiling.  She didn’t bother trying to identify the costumes, but it was nice to see their eyes light up at what she was handing out.  Ed insisted on quality candy, and lots of it. 

Straightening and accepting their thank-yous, she peered out beyond them; yes, an adult stood on the front walk, supervising this particular gaggle.  Sara relaxed a little.  Most of the kids had older escorts, but she couldn’t help double-checking.  Comes with the job. 

The townhouse complex was well-lit, and not just by the jack o’lanterns on various front stoops; as the quartet moved off, Sara stood a moment in the doorway, observing.  Other small groups were making their way from house to house, and Sara let herself remember. 

She hadn’t trick-or-treated often; her parents’ bed-and-breakfast was too far from other dwellings to make it practical.  But a few times she had been in decent foster homes come the end of October, the sort of place where the foster parents made an effort, and even if the costumes had been the cheap plastic kind, she’d had the fun of going around and soliciting candy like other kids. 

Not to mention the stash.  She’d been methodical, saving her candy, savoring each piece over time rather than eating it in just a few sessions. 

Shivering at the cold air, she closed the door and sat down, pulling her sweater a little tighter.  Kimmy and Joseph were out with their dad, leaving her to distribute, and Sara opened her book, waiting for the next ring. 

It came before she’d gotten through a page, and she stood again, setting down her book and picking up the bowl before opening the door. 

However, the person on the other side was a good deal taller than she was expecting.  “Trick or treat,” Grissom said, mouth turned up on one side, and Sara blinked, then grinned and slapped a Hershey bar into his palm. 

“Sorry, all out of chocolate-covered grasshoppers.” 

“They’re popular,” he agreed, and she snickered and moved aside so he could come in.  Another group was coming up the sidewalk, and she handed out more candy, aware that Grissom had taken the bowl’s chair behind her. 

She shut the door and turned, finding that Grissom had picked up her book and was riffling through it.  “Out of journals?” he asked. 

Sara took the other chair and put the bowl on the floor.  “I can’t concentrate on an article if I’m getting interrupted every ninety seconds.” 

Grissom nodded, still flipping pages.  “This is a good book.” 

Sara cocked her head.  “You’ve read My Family and Other Animals?” 

“Gerald Durrell’s tales of insect life are almost lyrical, if slightly unscientific.”  Grissom held out the book to her.  “Not to mention, he’s extremely funny.” 

Sara took it and laughed.  “Oh yeah.  I tried reading one of Lawrence Durrell’s books and I could not take it seriously.  I kept remembering Gerald’s stories about his big brother.” 

“I visited his zoo in Jersey, once,” Grissom said thoughtfully. 

“Wow.”  Sara was impressed, not so much by the fact itself as by Grissom sharing it.  “I didn’t even know you’d been to the U.K.  Lots of bugs?” 

He shook his head, giving her his half-smile again.  “None at all, in fact.  Durrell concentrated more on the larger life forms.  But it was quite an experience.”  He started opening the chocolate bar.  “What I’d really like to do someday is visit Greece.”  He gestured at the book.  “His descriptions make it sound amazing, though I doubt things are the same.” 

He was full of surprises tonight.  “You should go, then.” 

Grissom broke off part of the bar and held that out too.  “I probably will someday.”  His eyes flicked up to meet hers as she took the chocolate, and she could see the question he wasn’t asking out loud. 

Come with me? 

 

When the door opened without a knock, Sara was surprised to realize how much time had passed, but she was laughing too hard to care.  Grissom was sitting backwards in his chair, arms on the back, eyes alight.  “And then Jim turned around, clutching the blanket around him, and there were at least three people with cameras…”  His voice was shaking with laughter. 

“Hi, guys,” Sara choked out.  Joseph’s and Kimmy’s hellos were brief as they galloped up the stairs to sort out their loot, but Ed shut the door slowly behind him, looking from Sara to Grissom and back again.  Both of them were breathless from laughing, and a small pile of candy wrappers sat next to the near-empty bowl.  “How much did you have?” he asked in disbelief. 

“It’s the sugar,” Grissom managed, trying to sober himself without much success.  “She’s not used to eating that much at one time.” 

“Yeah, that doesn’t explain you!” Sara retorted, nudging his leg with the toe of one foot.  Judging from the way Ed’s eyes were crinkling, she was never going to hear the end of this, but at the moment she was on too much of a rush to care. 

Her brother sighed theatrically.  “You kids--can’t trust you on your own--“ 

Sara’s rude gesture was real this time, and Grissom started chuckling again.  With great deliberation, Ed shut off the porch light and picked up the bowl.  “Go on, both of you, out.  Walk it off.  I have to go up and take my cut of the haul.”  He fished in the bowl and tossed Sara a package of peanut butter cups.  “For the road.” 

There were still some groups of kids out as they wandered along, but fewer; the night was winding down.  Sara felt her chocolate-induced hilarity ebbing, but it left a good tired feeling in its place, of muscles stretched by laughter, and the pleasure of company that shared one’s sense of humor. 

“Halloween is unique in the plethora of American holidays,” Grissom mused by her side, calmer.  His brief foray into silliness was over, but Sara knew she would treasure the memory of him unguarded, trying to make her laugh but susceptible himself. 

“Because it’s the only one that focuses almost entirely on children,” she agreed.  “Did you trick-or-treat when you were a kid?” 

“On occasion.”  Grissom had his hands in his jacket pockets.  “It wasn’t so elaborate then; in my case, a costume was usually a ghost made out of an old sheet, or when I was older, a torn shirt and fake blood.” 

“What, no knife sticking out of your back?” Sara teased, and he shot her a sly glance. 

“I couldn’t get it to stay in place.” 

That set her off again, and she laughed as they strolled, enjoying the thought of a little boy with smashed brown curls pulling off a sheet to count his candy.  “So were you a hoarder or a gobbler?” 

“Hoarder, of course.”  Grissom looked smug.  “Though the problem was always whether to save the best for last, or eat it before it went stale.” 

“I knew I liked you for some reason,” Sara teased, and hooked her arm through his.  His stride wobbled for a second, but he recovered, and she felt his arm snug hers in closer as they continued. 

“What did you make the blood out of?” 

“Red food coloring, mostly.  I can’t remember all the ingredients at this late stage, but I think petroleum jelly was one of them.”  He let a few yards pass.  “What about you?” 

Sara shrugged, less bothered by memories than in the past.  “I only did it a few times, in foster care.  But it was fun--I guess kind of a stress relief, you know?  For one night I was just like all the other kids.” 

Grissom nodded, and she sighed a little, content rather than wistful--happy with her moment as it was.  “Plus, there was the candy.” 

“A bonus,” he agreed, and they walked on.  

 

 

 

Sara shifted in her seat.  “When are you going to tell me where we’re going?” 

Grissom signaled for a turn, a tiny smile playing at the edges of his lips.  “Patience, Sara.  It’s an investigator’s great strength.” 

She huffed, pretending to be more annoyed than she was.  “We’ve been driving for almost an hour.” 

 “We have an appointment.”  Grissom drove into a parking garage and was pleased to find a space on the first floor.  Parking in Baltimore was not usually easy, particularly on a Saturday. 

As he shut off the engine, Sara took off her seatbelt, and he knew that she would be out of the car before he could make it around to open the door for her.  It was a courtesy he enjoyed, partly because it allowed him to take her hand in the purely ceremonial duty of helping her out of the vehicle, but she usually only let him do it when they were going somewhere formally dressed.  Grissom wasn’t sure if she was too impatient to wait for him, or if she just forgot. 

Nevertheless, as he closed his own door and came around the car, Sara looped her arm through his, and that was more than enough to make up for the loss.  “Well?” 

Grissom guided her towards one of the pedestrian exits.  “It’s a surprise.  You can wait a few more minutes.”  He cast a wistful glance towards the bulk of Camden Yards a few blocks away, but baseball season was over. 

Their destination was only half a block distant, and the speculation in Sara’s face intensified as they signed in with the guards at the office building.  Grissom led her into a long hallway; a large sign reading “MORGUE” hung on the wall opposite, pointing down the corridor, but Grissom turned the other way instead, heading for a closed door.  The plaque next to the door read “Chief Medical Examiner”. 

Sara was obviously thinking hard, and Grissom enjoyed her puzzlement as he opened the door.  The diener within told them that the ME was out, but when Grissom gave the man his name, the diener grinned and escorted them up two flights into another hallway, unlocking another door and ushering them in.  “Take your time, Dr. Grissom,” he said, heading back out.  “Just let me know when you’re through so I can lock up again.” 

 “Thank you,” Grissom replied, his attention mostly fixed on Sara.  She was looking around the room with open-mouthed delight, taking in the small, exquisitely detailed dioramas of crime scenes. 

 “The Nutshells,” she said in an awed voice.  “I totally forgot they were kept here.  Grissom, this is fabulous!” 

He chuckled, very pleased.  “I thought you might like them.” 

She stepped forward and bent over one of the displays, which was about the size of the average dollhouse but far more complex and skilled.  “You’re so right.” 

Grissom watched her eyes moving as she absorbed the tiny scene, and came closer for a better look himself.  “I was here once years ago.  The ME uses them to teach detectives even now.” 

 “Yeah, I know,” Sara said, rummaging in her purse and extracting a compact magnifying glass.  “Forensic technology’s way ahead of these scenes, but they’re still great tools.” 

They were.  The eighteen Nutshell Studies were the creation of Frances Glessner Lee, a wealthy society woman who became a criminalist out of fascination with the science, and who helped promote it.  Grissom, like many others in law enforcement, had been struck by the mind-boggling detail of the dioramas, which illustrated different murders in order to train detectives to find, observe, and preserve evidence. 

The two of them worked their way slowly through the display, commenting on the variety of the deaths shown.  Many of the tiny items, including the pencils and whistles, actually worked, and Grissom found himself marveling anew over Lee’s dedication to the concept. 

It was almost like working a scene together again, but without the grim purpose.  They kept spotting the same evidence at the same time, and Grissom was both moved by the ease with which they meshed and saddened by the knowledge that they probably wouldn’t ever work together again like they once had, even if they stayed together. 

They spent more than two hours poring over the Nutshells before they were ready to leave.  As they stepped out into the early afternoon, Sara blinked at the autumn sunlight and grinned.  “That was really astounding, Griss.  Thanks for bringing me here.” 

Grissom captured her hand with his.  “You’re quite welcome.”  They set off down the sidewalk at an unhurried pace.  “We have the afternoon before us--what would you like to do?” 

She arched her brows, and swung their joined hands a little.  “The Science Center has a 3D IMAX movie about bugs.” 

Grissom cocked his head, and sped up a little.  “That answers that question, then.” 

Sara laughed.  “I’ll take you out to dinner afterwards.”   

 

 

Sara gritted her teeth.  It had been a lovely day, between Grissom’s surprise for her and the fun of the Science Center, and she didn’t want to ruin it with an argument, but he was being stubborn.  “Grissom,” she said carefully.  “This is not up for discussion.” 

He folded his hands and rested them on the table with the care of someone trying to hold onto his temper.  “Sara--” 

She cut him off, keeping her voice low.  There was no putting this off, but she had no more desire than he to make a scene in the middle of the Indian restaurant.  “I invited you, I’m paying for dinner.” 

Grissom’s mouth tightened in the old familiar manner, the sign that he was seriously annoyed.  “That is not how I do things.” 

Sara gave him a look that she hoped conveyed her disdain for that his statement.  “I don’t give a damn.  If we’re going to have a relationship--”  Grissom flinched, and she went on without stopping.  “--it’s going to be an equal one.” 

He frowned at her.  “This has nothing to do with equality, Sara, it’s just good manners.” 

“Yeah, manners half a century out of date.”  He winced again, and Sara bit her tongue and softened her tone.  “I’m not talking about the age difference, Grissom.  But this isn’t your mother’s world any more.  Paying for dinner, or whatever, every time, implies I’m not an equal partner in this...venture.” 

Grissom breathed out, and visibly mastered his temper.  “I don’t consider you anything less than my equal in any venture.”  He managed a small smile.  “Except perhaps bugs.” 

Relieved that he was able to find humor somewhere, Sara relaxed a little, but he went on. 

“It’s not just manners, Sara.  I treated you badly for a long time; I know I can’t really make up for it, but this is one gesture I can make.”  He held up a hand as she opened her mouth.  “Let me finish.  It gives me a great deal of pleasure to spend money on you--not in any expectation of something in return, but because it makes me happy to see you pleased.” 

Grissom shrugged, looking a little embarrassed at his own words, and Sara fought the heart-melting effect of them.  Leaning forward, she put her hand on his two, which immediately unclasped and folded around her fingers.  “I...appreciate that, Grissom.  More than I can say.  It means a lot to me that you feel that way.  But--”  She shrugged.  “I like to please you too, to do things for you.  If you pay for everything, when do I get a turn?” 

Grissom shook his head.  “You please me just with your company.” 

Sara sighed.  If she let them, Grissom and his pretty words would talk her right out of her argument, but she wasn’t going to allow it.  This was too important. 

She kept her voice soft, but made the tone firm.  “It’s only fair to let me have a turn.” 

Grissom pursed his lips for a long, considering moment, and Sara held still with an effort.  She hated arguing with him, partly because it was unpleasant and partly out of an atavistic fear that a disagreement would send him fleeing, but there had to be some ground rules. 

Then he sighed in turn, and lifted her hand to his lips to press a brief kiss to her fingertips.  “As my lady wills,” he said quietly, eyes twinkling a little, and she cursed him silently for turning her into a marshmallow with his absurd courtesy. 

She rolled her own eyes, but couldn’t help grinning, and if his humor faded slightly when she took the leather folder holding the check, she ignored it.  She could be as gracious in victory as he was in defeat. 

As was becoming their habit, they took a short walk after emerging from the restaurant before returning to the car.  Dinners weren’t their only dates, but they were often the easiest; strolling afterwards gave them a slightly more private time together before they had to return to their separate homes. 

Sara wasn’t ready to admit it, but she took a distinct and secret pleasure in walking with Grissom on a crowded sidewalk.  It wasn’t just that he tended to slip her arm through his, so that they would take up less space, it was the fact that he never seemed to notice the admiring glances thrown his way.  It made her feel smug.  It was selfish, it was atavistic, and she didn’t care one bit. 

This might not last…but I’m going to enjoy it while it does.