Dear Readers,

A lot of these old stories need to be unfolded, aired out, and put back on the line. I think if they are rewritten, then new readers ( and some old) may enjoy them. I want to add things, take things away, and make them more character based. I hope you enjoy this.

~ Katy

~8~

The carnival was in full swing when Grissom and Sara pulled into the overcrowded parking lot. Sara hadn't been to a carnival in years and the last time was heartbreaking, but the sounds of the thrilled people on the 'tilt-o-whirl' and the 'kamikaze' reminded her of simpler times. Times when all a girl had to worry about was the price of a soda, or if Kevin from Biology was going to ask her out. Times were more difficult now. For one thing, she had to work this case with her lover - former lover.

"We'll make this quick," Grissom said, not looking at her because that would require effort; something she accused him of not putting into their relationship.

The case had already been put-to-bed, or so they had thought. Somewhere, someone, had broken the chain of custody. All evidence was thrown out and deemed inadmissible. The responsibility of securing any evidence or testimony was handed to Grissom. They needed to act fast because, as a traveling carnival, it had a time limit. As fate would have it, the rest of the graveyard crew all had an open case: except Sara.

"Got it," Sara said with a nod as she climbed out of the SUV.

The two CSIs were silent as they walked toward the entrance. All around them families laughed and young couples groped one another. The latter pained Sara for a beat, it had been a little while since Grissom had groped her like that and if she had been in a forgiving mood then she'd let him.

"Tickets?" A man at the ticket booth said, holding out his hand.

Grissom held up his badge. "Lifetime pass," he said, nodding at him.

Sara snickered at him. No matter how angry she was, or how determined she was to ignore him, his sarcasm alway made her chuckle. Ahead of them a clown stood, passing out balloons to children. He saw Sara and she immediately lowered her head: she hated clowns.

"Balloon for you?" he asked, extending a pink balloon out to her.

"Um… no… I'm fine," Sara struggled to say.

The clown shrugged and walked away from her. Grissom turned his head to watch him go, then he turned his attention to Sara. It was one of the first times that he had focused his attention on her since they split up over a month ago.

"I hate clowns," Sara volunteered. "They're nasty… greasy... and they seem to be stuck in a state of eternal youth."

"Sara," Grissom volunteered. "Did you know that the word 'clown' means 'to confuse'. People are often afraid of what they don't understand."

"Like how you're afraid of expressing you feelings to me," she offered as more of statement than a question. "and I never said I was afraid of clowns. I just hate them; they remind me of Gacy."

As Sara assumed he would Gil didn't acknowledge her jab at him. " Once a university pooled two hundred and fifty children together and rated the most common phobia based on photographs; fear of clowns was actually number one."

If there was one thing that Grissom was reliable for, it was facts. Grissom was a balance between being a walking dictionary, encyclopedia, or Farmer's Almanac. Which was a little odd, because the only thing he wasn't well-versed in was his love life.

"Whatever?" Sara sighed. "However you see the picture, a funhouse isn't exactly an ideal or normal crime scene."

"Not one crime scene is normal," Grissom pointed out. "This one is just a little more dazzling than the rest."

"Dazzling is just the right word for it!" the carnival barker said from behind them. "and not to mention that every moment that this ride is closed I am losing money. So there was a little murder in the hall of mirrors, what attraction doesn't have its ghost story."

"Quite a few," Sara pointed out. "I don't think Six Flags has a story like this."

The carnival barker looked like a man who had stepped out of a comic book; he lived up to the stereotype. He wore a tall black hat, a buttoned-down dress coat, and a pair of freshly greased oxfords. He had a sinister handle-bar mustache and Sara wondered if anyone else in the world still dressed like that.

"Well our vic didn't need to be murdered here," Grissom said.

The barker looked frustrated at them. "You're people have already been here," he said. "why on Earth do you need to come back?"

Grissom shrugged. "Why we are back really doesn't matter to you?" he said. "Now, if you let us get on with our task, then we will be out of your hair."

The barker looked down at the ground and let out a huff of air. "Well, I suppose I better let you in," he said.

~8~

Grissom noticed that Sara had no intention on walking into the funhouse. Brazenly he put his hand on the small of her back and inched her forward. It took a few moments for her to shy away, a lot more than he thought, but she did and when she did he missed the feel of her.

The moment they stepped through the entrance, they were hit by a blast of cold air. Sara's hair, dark and wavy, was flying back. The freckled back of her neck was exposed to him and it took every ounce of his strength not to brush his thumb over the little brown spots.

"Sir," Sara said, turning away from the air jets. "Can you turn that off please?"

The barker nodded to her and, like out of a movie, he turned with the tail of his coat flying up. "Of course," he said as he sailed out the door.

The door slammed closed with a heavy bang and soon Grissom and Sara were alone; with the sounds of their breathing keeping them company.

~8~

When the heavy door slammed shut, Sara felt small and alone. Grissom, who had had his hand deliciously on her back just moments ago, stood beside her. He shined his light at a mural painted on the great wall in front of them. It showed a clown with animal-like, razor-sharp teeth. It seemed to grin at her with maniacal madness. It had hands, raised with curled claws, and it looked like it wanted to snatch her up and devour her.

"Are you alright?" Grissom asked.

Sara straightened up. "Yeah, of course," she stated.

She knew that she couldn't let him know that this place was giving her the jinkies, but if she heard a demon growl from the bowels of the funhouse, the she would abandon him.

"The hall of mirrors is this way," Grissom directed.

They turned toward their left and Grissom lead them down a tight hallway. It was so narrow that Sara found herself shoved up against Grissom as they walked. There was no light but the light from his flashlight. Suddenly, Sara felt claustrophobic. She felt as if the walls were closing in and she wondered if this was the feeling the attraction was meant to elicit.

"Are we almost there?" she squeaked, not meaning to sound terrified.

"If clowns scare you, then whatever you do don't look up," Gil replied.

As he probably knew she would, Sara looked up. There, hanging from the ceiling, she caught a glimpse of nearly a hundred little bisque dolls. They were somehow illuminated by lights in the ceiling, and Sara felt herself shudder.

"You asshole!" she said, pushing Grissom forward.

Grissom chuckled. "I told you not to look up," he defended.

"You knew I would,"she countered. "That was entrapment."

Grissom shrugged. "You always do what I suggest you not to do," he said.

"What kind of attraction has dolls just hanging from the ceiling?" she asked.

Grissom pushed a door open. "Some people get a thrill from it," he said. "I guess this is it."

The overhead light flickered on and Sara saw images of her and Grissom; everywhere. The reflections were making her so dizzy that couldn't tell the real Grissom from one of his reflections very well.

"We're looking for anything viable," he said to her. "If you want, you can stay in here and I'll take the hallway with the creepy dolls."

Sara nodded to him. "That'll do," she said, stepping aside so he could get by.

As he walked past, Sara caught a scent of soap. She knew what brand too; she knew many things about him. She knew that he preferred to sleep on the left side of the bed. She knew that he watched old movies on television and hated a majority of new programs. She also knew what it was like when he kissed her and how he tasted like coffee.

"I'm going to go back to the truck and get a lantern," he said. "It's like a cave in here."

"Um… wait," Sara said, following him out of the room.

Grissom looked back at her as they both squeezed down the tiny corridor. "I'll just be a moment," he said, looking back at her. "Nothing is going to get you."

"Well, I still don't want to be in her alone," Sara protested. "This place gives me the creeps."

She put her hand on his shoulder so that she wouldn't misstep; after all he had the flashlight. Grissom looked back at her, she couldn't see his face but she knew he was smiling at her.

"You have to admit this is a little fun," he said to her. "You, me, and the dark. What more could you ask for?"

"Are you flirting with me? Really?" Sara asked.

She felt Grissom shrug. "Can't blame a man for trying," he said.

"i can blame you for being a jackass," she said "all you had to talk to me once in a while, Gil. How hard is that?"

"Oh, so we're going to talk about this now?" Grissom replied as they walked.

"Yes, because if we don't our working relationship is going to suffer," Sara responded. "We still need to be able to function."

Gil chuckled. "I want the the kind of relationship where we go to my place and I take your clothes off," he said.

Sara didn't know how to respond. Of course she wanted that too, but what kind of future was in store for them if they didn't sort their problems out.

"I miss you," he said. "I want you back."

"Have we reached the door yet?" Sara said, trying to ignore his comments.

"Yeah," Grissom responded curtly.

He pushed on the door. "It won't budge," he said.

"Trying pulling," Sara said sarcastically.

Grissom braced himself and pushed on the handle of the heavy metal door.

"Quit playing, Gil," Sara said, walking out from behind him and pulling on the door.

But he had been right; it wouldn't budge. Sara pushed it with of her might, but soon her forearms began to burn and she gave up. She turned to Grissom, who was holding up phone his trying to catch a signal.

"He can't just leave us in here," Sara said. "There has to be another way out."

~8~

A/M: Well, readers. Let me know what you think of the redux. The original one is still on my wall.