A/N: This one takes place near the end of "Fire, Death & Family"; the story of Will Grissom.

A Few Days with the Grissom Family: Chapter 1

An uncomfortable edge pressed against her temple bringing her from a light sleep. Wispy feathery cobwebs floated across her face lifting her from dreams of warm sunshine and ocean scented breezes. She brought a hand to her face and tried to open her eyes.

The silky strains were dark and curly, attached to the head resting against her own. The point at her temple was an elbow. Sara grinned.

This was her child, her flesh and blood, whose breath warmed her cheek and whose pointed elbow had brought her from sleep. Long lashes made two dark crescents across her oval face hiding the blue-eyed genes of the child's father. Sara loved this little girl—it was something that Sara Sidle would not have comprehended a few years previously. Her first child—Elizabeth, Sara had named her—thinking she would call her Beth, was called Bizzy. Her father had given her the name before the baby was born; pressing his hand to Sara's abdomen and talking to "Bizzy Bee".

Sara was fascinated with this child; people wrote of the miracle of childbirth, but actually the miracle was of beauty and growth and biological engineering that made one believe that humans were headed in the right direction. This unexpected role of parenthood had taken both by surprise. Everything about the process was new, different, and a first for them. Their daughter never failed to find the laughter, the kindness, the joy in life and having two parents devoted to her every breath was to much too for one small child. Sara asked her husband for another baby which had turned out to be twins—who arrived months after Eli came to live with them.

She smiled as her eyes moved to the others in the bed.

Eli snuggled against her husband whose large hand lay lightly across the boy's chest; the other hand holding a children's book. The little boy they had taken into their home at his mother's request was Warrick Brown's son. He had not one gene of either parent yet Eli belonged to them as much as Bizzy or the two babies asleep in the next room. Sara had taken this child as her own the night he arrived in her home. He was easy to love—while her own daughter was the center of laughter; Eli was the intelligent, soft-spoken foundation of imagination in her household. The loveable, good-natured personalities of Bizzy and Eli made parenting easy.

A year ago, she noticed that Eli would pinch his nose as he thought—a familiar motion of Gil Grissom. He looked so much like his biological father, yet he was developing the habits of the man who took his place. Today, while at the beach, the two would bend in identical poses to examine some treasure.

Sara sighed, a deep, contented breathe of life.

Her husband's hand came to rest on her shoulder. "There's an empty bed in the other room," he whispered.

She nodded and both slipped from the bed and two sleeping children. She watched as both stretched and repositioned in warm spaces.

In the second room, she watched as Grissom dropped lightweight blankets over each sleeping child. They were safely caged in cribs wedged into a corner of the room and, in sleep, appeared as cherubs in a Raphael painting.

The two little girls, with blonde curls, blue eyes, chubby arms and legs, were so obviously the daughters of their father that Sara often asked how she gave birth to little female clones. Before they walked, each could mimic his raised eyebrow, present a scowl that mirrored his, or give an enigmatic smile. In one way, she knew the girls were hers—a quick temper, a stomp of a foot, a pout; a fury passion that would lead to trouble unless tamed. Grissom said they got a "double dose of stubbornness" as he lifted his own brow with an expression of his self-satisfaction. The agreeable natures of the two older children were such contrasts to the two babies. She and Grissom had learned to laugh as the two older children attempted to lead and control the younger girls.

Her husband stood from his bended crouch. "They are down and out—all that fresh air." Grissom grunted as he straightened and placed an arm around Sara. "Are you sure you want another one?" He asked.

He knew her answer. She stepped out of her pants, a smile on her face. "Get ready—I've decided today's the day!" She whispered with a sensual smile. "Everyone's asleep so get naked!"

His hand reached to the elastic on her purple panties. "I like these."

In mid-afternoon, the sun high in a clear sky and the distant sounds of surf drifting in open windows, Sara and Gil made quiet love to each other. Sounds were almost whispers as hands found familiar places of pleasure, smiles became gasps of desire, and these two knew they belonged together. He could build hunger, desire, a strong wanting of pleasure with touches to her skin.

For Sara, having the one person she had loved with a scorched-earth intensity return her passion, made her love more—her husband, her children, everyone and everything that touched her knew they were loved.

She whispered, "Gil."

His breath caught as he tumbled into her, helpless, end over end, physically and mentally, giving over to her, the feel, the emotion, the ultimate physical act of intimacy of being with the woman he loved. He kept her within his arms; her long legs wrapped around his as his foot caressed her calf.

"You are beautiful, Sara."

He felt her smile against his shoulder. She named this time "more intimate than sex" when they would lie together, skin-to-skin, legs and arms wrapped together, exposed and vulnerable, and talk. As Gil listened his finger touched a small scar on her abdomen. She was talking about their morning, watching as their children played in the sand, at the edge of the surf.

"I never thought I would enjoy watching kids play—seeing them have this experience. Is it because they belong to us? They are no different from hundreds of other kids I've seen." Her brow wrinkled with a slight frown. "It is different when they are our kids." The frown disappeared as she smiled. "They are almost perfect."

Grissom's hand continued tracing along her body as she talked. She's too thin, he thought, as his finger curved along her hip and moved across her belly.

"I think they are perfect." He kissed her neck. "Just like their mother." He heard a quiet laugh.

A/N: Thanks for reading--second chapter up soon.