Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or any of its characters; the OFCs in this story were created and are owned by lj usercincoflex
Pairing: Brass/OFC, Grissom/Sara
A/N: This is a sequel to alicat713's amazing Miles to Go which is a sequel to wobbear's delightful Making It a sequel to the astoundingly wonderful H5N1 by cincoflex. Thank you to both cincoflex and alicat713 for their gracious encouragement and unflagging support. This is unbetaed; all mistakes are mine.
It's harder than he expected.
Four miles through the hilly woods carrying only his pack and rifle took a little over two and a half hours going to Melissa's valley and well over three back to Grissom's land. But the snow and the sled have made it slow going; he's not quite to what he thinks of as the halfway point and more than two hours have passed if he's reading the position of the sun in the sky correctly. His aching muscles and freezing extremities tell him it's been more like four, maybe six hours. He ignores them and believes the sun instead.
Grissom still carries a watch but he doesn't. Time has morphed in to something not dependent on minutes and hours but sun and moon, days and seasons. He likes it better this way. One less tether, a little more freedom. It may have taken the end of the world, but he finally feels real and right and true to his life. He is where he is because he chooses to be, not because he has to be.
Yes, there are things he misses…showers and central heat and beer and indoor plumbing. And people…he misses those he knows didn't make it, Warrick and Vartann and Vega and Ecklie. And he misses those he hopes made it…Nick, Catherine, Sanders, Sofia.
And Ellie.
He feels almost like a fraud for missing her. She wasn't in his life, really. And he doesn't know for sure she's gone. But there's an empty, aching hole in his chest, nonetheless. And a feeling of betrayal at the idea of making a new life, a new family with Melissa. Because he is under no illusion, strapped to this sled, breaking a trail through snow midway up his calf, sometimes over his knee, he knows that's what he's doing.
On one of their many walks, Grissom had told him of their decision to try for Honey. He had naturally assumed she was a happy accident, the result of failing birth control. But Grissom talked about the decision calmly, something he and Sara both wanted. Brass had privately thought at first it was a way for them to assume control of the inevitable, until the first time he made love to Melissa. The desire not to have the condom between them had been more than the yearning for greater pleasure or more physical contact; there had been something primal, something so strong urging him to remove the latex barrier and fill her with life.
It's that that scares him. She feels it more strongly than he does, he knows. On the few occasions when Will has been out of the house when they have been together, in the middle of making love Melissa had grabbed his hips and hitched herself up and into him in fiercely erotic movements; trying to fuck the life out of me he thought at the time and now, realizes it's true in the purest sense of the word.
By coming to her, making a home with her and Will he knows there will be no more condoms. There will probably be a baby of their own. And he's scared, absolutely terrified and giddy beyond belief. A family. Melissa and Will and a maybe baby.
The sun has burned the grey clouds away and it's bouncing off the snow in playfully painful brightness and he stops to dig through his pack for his sunglasses; his breath is puffing out in clouds around his head and then floating off. He pauses a moment and listens to the bird song in the trees above him; happy song and flapping wings floating through the trees and he thinks despite the snow they must have found some food.
He wonders why they didn't fly south for the winter; does that mean the winter won't be that cold or hard or does it mean they simply have a home they choose not to leave?
Home has become a concept that transcends sticks and bricks for all of them, all of the survivors. Two years ago he would have questioned the survival instincts of his fluttering, chirping companions; today he understands surviving is only worthwhile if there is more to life than making it through another day.
He wishes the birds well and moves on through the snow.
He sees her before she spots him. The goats and geese must be in the shed and don't warn her of his arrival. She's in the yard, stacking wood with crisp, economical movements.
She is beautiful. He would have thought so in this world or the one before. But he wonders sometimes if she would have looked at him twice had they met in the one before. She's eighteen years his junior and smart and capable and pretty; she would not have had any use for a wizened police detective eaten up with cynicism, protected from the world by a shell hardened by the realities of life. If there were more men now, would she have given him a second glance?
He contemplates the dark thought of being the only option available, when she turns from the wood pile and sees him. Her face lights up at the sight of him, a radiant joy illuminating her whole being as she drops the stack of wood she had been holding and starts stumbling through the snow towards him. He wouldn't be able to stop his answering smile if the survival of what remained of the world depended on it.
This world or the one before, love is love and what was better than that to live for?
It is hard to be quiet that night when they make love. There is so much he wants to say to her, so much he needs to say that can't be adequately expressed in fevered whispers, hoping Will is asleep.
He's not sure if the boy noticed the sled contained all of Brass's worldly possessions or Melissa making room for his things. When Will is ready, he'll talk.
A lot of the civility of the old world has to be lost to move forward into this new one. People eat, they shit, they fuck; facts of life. No point in making that any prettier than the reality it is. But it also cuts through a lot of the social bullshit, no sense in pretending you like someone or something if you don't. Makes it easier to deal with emotional issues that way. Will will let him know how he feels about Brass coming into his family and they will deal with it however they need to.
Neither Melissa nor he can stop their moans when he enters her, bare for the first time. Fully surrounded by her warmth, filling her, he meets her eyes and he knows there is no turning back. This is his life now, she is his home.
When he comes, she cries and he kisses her tears away as he softens inside her, whispering of love and promises and the future.
He's been there four days when he sees her watching the sky anxiously as the sun sets.
They stare at each other for awhile, both of them knowing it's a risk, not practical at all, completely illogical, maybe even dangerous…so much of this new life is. But they both want it very badly. A chance for joy, a cause for celebration…that can't be ignored.
They agree they'll leave just after dawn if the sky is clear. Melissa hugs him and gives him a hard kiss that is a promise of softer things later. She begins rifling through her stores for the most special things…canned peaches, sugared pecans, Spam, peppermints. She packs three packs with the treats as well as some emergency gear should things go awry out in the cold.
Brass, in the meantime, presents Will with his Legos. The boy's eyes are huge and just a little wet and he appears for a brief moment to have trouble breathing. Jim feels a tightness in his chest, a jumble of feelings…joy to present the boy with a gift that invokes such a feeling, anger at God or the Universe or whatever it is that has brought them to this place where some plastic shapes are the equivalent of untold riches to a twelve year old boy whose innocence has been ripped away forever. But more than anything he feels pride in his son and realizes, for better or worse, baby or no baby, he is a father again.
The morning dawns bright and cloudless. It's even a little warmer than it had been since the first heavy snowfall. The tracks from his previous trek are still in tact for the most part, so there is no trail to break, only footsteps and sled tracks to follow in. It is beautiful and peaceful and all three of them are laughing.
They've hiked almost three of the four miles when they hear singing in front of them. Sara's clear and beautiful voice carries through the trees, moving closer, step by step.
What can I give Him, poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb;
If I were a Wise Man, I would do my part;
Yet what I can I give Him... give my heart.
In silent consensus they wait until her song is finished before calling out and rushing forward in excitement, snow flying up from their feet.
The Grissoms come into view, Honey snugly wrapped up and nestled against her mother's body, Sara and Grissom holding hands; they, too, had followed Brass's trail. Cheeks are rosy and eyes are sparkling as hugs and greetings are exchanged.
After a brief conference, they decide to set up under the trees on some fallen logs rather than heading back to either cabin. The days are short and both families want to be home before nightfall. They drape the tarp Melissa had packed over some low hanging branches to block the wind and manage to find enough wood that had dried from the previous week's snow to build a decent sized fire.
Both women had had similar ideas and between them they have managed what amounted to a feast these days, all the food Melissa brought plus Sara's bread, peanut butter and honey.
Excitedly, Will tells Grissom of his new Legos and all the things he plans to build with them and Sara hands Honey over to Melissa. Brass absently crumbles the crusts of the remaining bread; scattering it over the snow for the birds as he watches his mate coo to the infant and he feels his heart clench. Melissa had removed her gloves to prepare their meal and Sara has already commented on the ring he gave her in bed last night.
He knows all the things that could go wrong. Well, there are probably a few horrors he hasn't imagined, but they can't be too much worse than what he's already thought of. But it all feels fresh and new…he wants this new life, he wants to help create this new world. And that, more than anything, lets him know he does have a survival instinct.
Sara plants herself on the log next to him, nudging his shoulder with her own.
Her voice is soft and full of affection. "Merry Christmas to you and your family, Jim." She slips an arm around him in a brief hug. "I'm so glad you decided to join the living."
He has to swallow twice and blink his tears away before he chokes out, "Me, too." He clears his throat. "Merry Christmas."