Antarctica

By Anna Greenway

Rating: M, just to be safe. This is for sexual references and sex scenes. Appropriate for mature audiences only.

A/N: A few other things:

1. I do not acknowledge the death of Warrick. In my story he is alive. I hated that tragic ending and felt awful for Catherine. So he is alive, but left CSI. This is the only AU part of this story, the rest is canon.

2. This story is set post-Immortality (the series finale). I liked the ending, I'm just adding to it.

3. I don't plan for this to be too heavy with case details, just for anyone concerned. I don't want it to be boring. It's more about an adventure between the team, and them as friends, and the Grissom/Sara relationship.


Off the coast of San Diego, Sara lay on the bed, happily naked, as the boat gently rocked and rolled, riding the waves of the ocean. It had been three days since she had joined Grissom aboard his boat, and in that time they had sailed, watched the sunset, and made passionate love below deck – all in that order. Then they had slept, ate, and done it all again, catching up on lost time, and forgetting the fact that they had ever been divorced.

The decision to leave Las Vegas had been spontaneous, and even in the car she had second guessed whether she could afford to put her heart at risk again, but after a quick chat with Catherine – and a knowing look – she had taken the plunge, and all doubts had been evaporated when they had hit the sheets.

It felt so impossibly right – even after four years of divorce and a chaotic marriage, and so far they had done little else other than bask in the glow of their reunion. They had not discussed their plans, and nor yet did she plan to, not wanting to curse the moment with a dive into reality.

She listened from the bed as he moved about the cabin, getting himself a drink. There were soft thumps, and clinks of cutlery, and as he moved about she caught intermittent glimpses of him through the bedroom doorway.

She watched, happy.

"You look pleased with yourself!" he called.

"Shouldn't I be?" she quipped.

The sex had been great, and it was good to know that in the four years since they had last made love, that Grissom had not forgotten how. It was like his fingers had retained a muscle memory of how to touch her, and she was still giddy – so giddy that she was happy for once to not bother getting dressed, and she continued to lay there, naked, wondering how long it would take him to return, and how much of a break he would need.

She tested him as he passed again, raising one leg into an arched knee, stretching just enough to tantalise, offering him a glimpse of the space between her legs, and arching her breasts.

"You're a tease, Sara!"

"I'm just stretching," she teased.

He paused in the door, a smile tugging on his lips.

"You know, if you don't join me, I'm going to start without you," she said.

His eyes locked on hers, and she saw his breath hitch – but then, annoyingly, he hesitated.

"I've just lost something – I'll be there in a second."

He whipped around, and vanished.

Sara sighed.

"What have you lost?" she called.

"My tarantula!"

She heard him moving boxes then, clattering things about and searching behind them, and Sara was reminded again, unpleasantly, that she was dating an entomologist. Throughout their ill-fated relationship she had tolerated his love for bugs, and all things creepy-crawly, but taking a tarantula on board a vessel was a new one – even for Grissom.

She forced herself up, and from the doorway glanced across at the empty tank, sat atop the kitchen bench. The light was on, keeping the tank at a steady temperature, but the foliage was empty.

"She's loose in here?" Sara asked.

"Yes," he said, as though she was slow to catch on. "Help me look, will you?"

Unbelievable, Sara thought. There was seriously no other man on Earth she would do this for, but she did find herself doing it, and resisting the sudden urge to put on ten layers of clothing and a pair of thick hiking boots, she moved about the tiny cabin, thinking there was only so many places a spider could be.

"I don't see her," she said.

"Keep looking. She has to be here somewhere."

He was bent over, searching amongst a clutter of discarded items, and Sara bent over herself, from the waist, leaning to get a look behind a metal box in the corner.

As she did she saw in her peripheral vision that he had stopped moving.

"You're not looking," she said.

"I am looking," he said.

And then she realised that he was looking at her behind, raised high in the air, and as she stood a grin split across his lips. She bit back on a grin herself, having the sudden urge to toy with him.

"You know, I thought I was the only woman in your life," she said. "You didn't tell me there was another female on this cruise."

"You're the only one I sleep with," he said.

She smiled as she walked past him, and she felt his fingers brush, ever so subtly against her behind. The touch gave her another jolt in her groin, but one that she gathered would have to wait. She sensed that, even without the spider, Grissom needed more time. Ten minutes? Half an hour? An hour?

She moved to another corner to look.

Just then his phone rang, and she listened as he picked it up.

"Grissom."

There was a blur of voice at the other end, and she couldn't make out the words.

"Why, what's happened?" A pause. "Well, I'm not free at the moment." Another pause. "How much?"

Across the cluttered cabin, Grissom's eyes met Sara's.

"Well for how long?"

There was another pause, and then Grissom was scrambling for a pen.

"Well … I don't know. I can recommend some people. Let me make some calls … Yeah, I'll get back to you."

He hung up, and Sara looked across the cabin. Her heart stiffened, already sensing their romantic weekend was coming to an end.

"What's up?" she asked.

"How do you feel about taking a trip?"

XXX

Three days later, and Sara was back in Las Vegas, standing in the waiting lounge at a gate at the International Airport. She had migrated automatically toward the windows, trying to get away from the hordes of crowds which strode constantly in and out of the terminal, and had her purple suitcase beside her. Next to her stood Grissom, his own case in hand, and she had to bite down on some bemused disbelief at the way his eyes were twinkling – like he was eight years old again.

"I still can't believe you agreed to this," she said.

"We agreed to this," he corrected. "And it's the opportunity of a lifetime."

"Antarctica?" she queried. "You know I'm a California girl, right? I grew up surfing. I worked in the desert. I hate the cold."

"I'll keep you warm," he said.

He was still glowing, but looked at her earnestly, softening Sara's heart. Grissom had practically been skipping about for the last three days, ever since he had gotten the call. The call had turned out to be from the federal Department of Justice, who had gotten hold of his number from an old research colleague, one who now worked at the South Pole. There had been disappearances at the base, unexplained, and they were looking to hire criminalist consultants to go down there, and take a look around, and gather evidence – all expenses paid.

Sara's first question, unlike Grissom, had been about jurisdiction, but it turned out that this lay with the U.S. Marshals, who had law enforcement authority over Antarctica, but for which the detachment was so small that for all intents and purposes, they had no lab of their own, and no one had ever been prosecuted or charged in the region. The disappearance of eminent scientists, however, was unprecedented, and was something the Government was looking to solve quickly – and undoubtedly, Sara thought, to cover up. The result was immediate funding and a rush to get a team together, and after a quick discussion, Sara had seen the way Grissom had come to life at going to what was effectively a scientist's mecca, and she had cringed inwardly, knowing she could not deny him the opportunity to go, to see a place so few people ever got to experience. So she had agreed, and had been glad that she had, once Grissom had wrangled an agreement to widen the team, and include several of his old colleagues, justifying that if a whole team had disappeared, he needed proper resources to investigate it – and to handle anything which arose unexpectedly, given they would be so far from help.

Sara's heart leapt as she caught sight of the result, and saw, amongst the crowds in the terminal, several people walking toward them wheeling their own luggage – including Catherine, Nick, and Warrick, all beaming.

"Hey!" she exclaimed.

"Hey!"

They all returned greetings, and immediately Catherine hugged her, before Sara moved on to hug Nick and Warrick. Like Grissom, they all looked over the moon, and apparently she was the only one who was even remotely cynical about the trip.

"I'm surprised you were free," Grissom told Catherine.

Sara knew she had just taken the promotion.

"I have a fortnight before I start," Catherine said. "You timed it perfectly."

"And it's an adventure, man," Nick said. "I mean, Antarctica, right? The last great frontier … unexplored wilderness … how can you say no?"

"Yeah, thanks for the call, man," Warrick said to Grissom. "I'm in between jobs, this works out well."

"Well they said they wanted a crack team," Grissom replied.

"One more case, huh?" Catherine asked. "One for the road?"

"Why not?" he replied. "And this one's high profile. If we do this, it may open doors."

"That did occur to me," Nick said, smiling. "And the amount they're willing to pay … that's insane."

"It says they want it solved fast," Sara said.

"It says they're clueless," Warrick added.

"Just remember we're only there as experienced consultants," Grissom said. "We're cataloguing evidence and making a report, that's all. We're not arresting anyone."

"You said there was a contact, though," Nick said. "From the DOJ. They'll have law enforcement authority."

"Apparently, yes. We'll meet them in New Zealand, with our guide, and all our lab equipment. Then we'll travel down to Antarctica."

"I still can't believe we're doing this," Nick said, shaking his head with a beaming grin. "This is so awesome, man."

"It's like a vacation," Catherine said.

She suddenly looked up at Sara, and Sara saw her scientist's eyes narrow.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

"It's nothing," Sara said, shaking her head.

"She hates the cold," Grissom provided.

Catherine nodded to herself, and Sara felt a stab of irritation. It was so like Grissom to be oblivious to the fact that she would have preferred to stay on the boat, to have those few blissful days to themselves. Now there was another case – and there would always be another case, or another mission. She had never thought about second-guessing their romance, and yet already she was. It seemed already that history was about to repeat itself. When would she learn?

"Cheer up," Catherine said, touching her elbow briefly. "It'll be fun."

"Yeah, it'll be awesome, Sara," Nick said. "Once in a lifetime, right?"

"Yeah," Sara said, mustering a smile. "Once in a lifetime."

She would have to get Grissom to make it up to her when they got back.


I adore Grissom, but I do think he has his faults, and I think this sort of tendency to be oblivious to Sara's need for romance is probably one of them.

Also curious as to whether anyone is still reading CSI fanfic? … if you are, and are interesting in me continuing, then please let me know. It makes it easier to keep writing if I know people are reading. But I suppose it has been a few years since the show finished, so we'll see.