A/N: If you've been reading, you know what will happen in this chapter. By a strange colliding of dates, in 2015 Sara Side will be 44 years old. Gil Grissom will be 59 years old. When William Petersen was born, his mother was 44 years old; when his twins were born, Petersen was 58 years old. We did not plan this-it just worked out.

Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Fifteen Years

Chapter 9

2015

Sara looked up as a shadow covered her book; the shadow belonged to her husband who was pushing back the hat on his head, smiling at her with an easy infectious smile.

Years ago, their first encounter had been inside a large room with a hundred people surrounding them and he had made the same smile. Since that day, Sara had told herself that all the little cells of her body had lifted and stirred in the knowledge that here he was—the one she had waited for, the one that caused a funny catch in the vicinity of her heart—or at least she believed it had happened that way—and the smile caused the same reaction today.

Gil Grissom offered her his hand, tugging her up, and didn't let go even when she was standing firmly on her feet. Touching her cheek with his fingers, he said, "Sara" in his deep low voice. His fingers slid beneath her chin and, with a smile on his lips, he leaned to kiss her.

"I love you," he said simply after he finished the kiss. His fingers remained on her chin and his hand held hers. "I should have married you fifteen years ago."

Sara arched an eyebrow. "Yes, you should have." She smiled and teased, "And instead of this, we might have a teenager."

If possible, his grin broadened as he brought his hand to her round belly. "That thought is kind of scary—well, this is scary, too." He kissed her again. "Are you ready?"

She knew Grissom was referring to leaving the sandy beach, not the outcome of her pregnancy. "I am if you are." She laughed as he made a little head nod toward their canoe. He helped her into a life vest and buckled the front and then held the canoe as she stepped into it. She did not have to look back to know Grissom waited until she was seated before he pushed the boat's nose toward the river and smoothly slid into the rear seat. A few pushes with their paddles and they were through the eye of a tiny needle slot and into the river and another few movements had them in the river's current.

At times verbal communication is necessary, but today there was no need to talk as the two floated down the Colorado River with a current strong enough to keep the canoe in the center of the flow. At times the river spread out and met rocky beaches softened by small trees, then turned and entered a tunnel of towering cliffs that looked like they had been cleaved by a blow of an ax. The silence was so peaceful that Sara pulled her paddle out of the water and listened to nothing at all.

The silence was broken by Grissom. "Here," he said, pushing an old float cushion toward her feet. "I can take us in—maybe thirty minutes to go."

Without saying anything, Sara carefully shifted her body so she could sit on the bottom of the canoe with the cushion under her butt. She stretched her legs in front of her and propped her feet on the front edge of the canoe; her back resting against the seat.

"Thanks. Perfect," she said as she settled into her new position. She laughed, "Do you remember the first time we did this?"

Grissom chuckled. "I do—and the second time and the third time. You learned to love me out here."

She laughed again. "No, dear, I already loved you when I agreed to come."

He knew she was right. She had loved him from the beginning—he was the one who had not known what to do. Paddling enough to keep the canoe in mid-stream, his mind drifted back over recent years. Sara continued to work at the crime lab giving them a sense of stability in Las Vegas as he had traveled to far-reaching corners of the globe. She would laugh and say she was working to provide insurance but he knew she wanted—needed the schedule of work and a real place to call home.

Two years ago, the university had offered him a research-teaching position, short-term, for one year, but he was on his second annual contract and the funding was stable. Luck or wise planning, with their surprise package arriving in a few months, they had purchased a house in one of Vegas' older neighborhoods and now Sara planned to take an extended leave.

Paddling several times, he maneuvered the small boat to keep it from drifting near several boulders the size of houses. Sara did not move; he stretched, trying to see if she had fallen asleep. Her hands lay across her belly, her head crooked to one side.

Softly, he said, "Sara" and got no response.

He sat with the paddle across his lap, smiling, and shook his head at the reality of life. They had been so naïve when they married, thinking because they did nothing to prevent a baby they would have one. After six months, fertility testing found nothing obvious to prevent pregnancy. Sara agonized for weeks about fertility medications; they talked to fertility experts and read everything they could find.

And they learned how expensive treatments were.

One afternoon as they watched an old movie, Sara paused the film and said, "I think my window has closed, Gil. I don't think I'm going to have a baby. Will it break your heart if it's just the two of us?" Her voice sounded as if she was telling him the weather forecast and he wondered how long she had practiced before saying the words.

He had reached over, taken her hand and said: "No, dear. We'll be fine."

Months later, she revealed what had caused her to say what she did but that day he knew he did not want to see her sad. He surprised her with a trip to the Galapagos Islands so she could show him the footsteps of Darwin. They worked, laughed, loved each other, and gradually no longer talked about having a baby; instead, they turned to their family of friends, who they had known for years, settling into a calm, loving, and somewhat predictable life.

Three months ago—it had been a Wednesday—he had returned home, to the house they were moving into, and found Sara sitting at the small kitchen table, surrounded by dozens of boxes. She was holding a piece of paper and when he walked in, she looked up with a strange, startled expression on her face. She waved the paper in his direction, tried to say something, and choked as tears filled her eyes.

In an instant, he thought of a death—but death did not come on paper. By the time he reached her, he saw the physician's name across the top and thought of cancer. Except what he saw in her face was not fear or apprehension, but a kind of astonishment or surprise.

His concern evident on his face, she managed a breathless laugh. She said his name: "Gil," as she held the paper. "Forty-three years old, Gil. I thought I was going into menopause." More tears came; she tried to laugh. "But I'm pregnant—we're going to have a baby."

He heard her phone ringing before his ears stopped hearing it; his eyes seemed to be looking down a long tunnel with Sara's face at the lighted end of it. Somehow, he managed to sit down—as he was sitting when his hearing returned.

"When?" he asked. His thumb wiped a streak of moisture sliding along her cheek.

"February, I think. Around Valentine's Day." She gave him a watery smile.

He frowned. That could not be right, he thought. "Due? When?"

She laughed realizing her mistake. "Oh—October." She looked at the paper still in her hand. "It doesn't say—but I think that's what the nurse said."

"What else did she say? Are you okay?" He chuckled. "A baby—ours—ours." Abruptly, he laughed. His brain was clearing. "We're having a baby! A baby!" His palms cradled her face. "Us! A baby!" He kissed her, wiped tears away, and kissed her again and both of them began to laugh.

Sara's phone was buzzing again. She picked it up and looked at caller ID. Frowning, she said, "It's the doctor's office," and answered.

Grissom watched her face as she listened. Her frown turned to a smile and she agreed with whatever was said.

"I forgot to make another appointment—I think I was in shock when I left."

That was when she had told him about her suspicions of early menopause, of erratic periods for months, and how she had put off visiting her physician until three months had passed without a period.

Grissom glanced up with a jerk when he heard voices and realized he was almost at the takeout point. He paddled the canoe so it turned toward the shore where several other canoes were already pulled to dry land. As soon as gravel scratched the bottom of the boat, Sara lifted her head and looked around.

"I went to sleep!" She said as she sat up, pushed herself to the seat, and grabbed her paddle to serve as a holding anchor in the sand and gravel.

Boating on the Colorado River was a tourist attraction with limits. Business was slow today yet several old school buses, converted for hauling boaters back to the parking lot waited as people gathered their belongings and filed onto the first bus.

Sara checked her phone as the bus drove out of the canyon and listened to a message from Catherine Willows.

"Catherine's in town—she wants to see us," she said as she tucked the phone in her pocket.

Grissom had his head against her shoulder, his eyes closed; his response was a soft "humph".

Catherine had been gone from the lab for three years—more correctly, she worked all over the country while Vegas remained her official home. Several times a year, she called everyone to meet at her house for dinner.

Grissom's hand came to rest on Sara's belly. "Have you told Catherine?" He knew Sara had been selective in announcing her pregnancy and only recently had most of the lab employees learned of it.

"I have not—I wanted to see her face. And I'm pretty sure no one else has," she laughed. "Everyone knows it's hard to surprise Catherine."

He laughed and snuggled his head against her shoulder. "You should wear the red shirt."

Surprised, Sara turned so quickly, Grissom's head fell behind her shoulder. Her husband never mentioned her clothes—not those worn outside of the bedroom that is. She asked, "Why?"

"Cause you look beautiful—and pregnant," his laugh sounded like a school girl's giggle. "I can't wait to see her face!"

By the next afternoon, Sara had heard from everyone who was going to Catherine's and they all wanted to be in the room when Sara walked in. They had been friends for so long they knew it was difficult to surprise Catherine with anything—and like Grissom, they wanted to see her face for this one.

The day was warm with bright afternoon light that seemed to gleam off the edges of everything. Sara did not hurry Grissom as he dressed at the last minute and, at the last minute, she decided to gather a few of the flowers growing around the patio. The elderly couple who had lived in the house for forty years had developed a beautiful garden using native plants as a canvas with brush strokes of brightly colored perennials. Sara clipped a dozen blooms—she knew a rose by its name, but none of these were roses.

"I'm ready," Grissom announced from the doorway. He smiled as she turned around. "You look great." He wiggled his hips and lifted his eyebrow. "I was exhausted last night, but today—I'm…"

Sara giggled and finished his sentence, "horny?"

His smile was one of seductive suggestion. "I'll always be that way around you."

"Even when I look like I swallowed a pumpkin?"

"You don't look like you swallowed a pumpkin!"

"I will by October!" She said as she wrapped the flowers in paper.

Grissom chuckled. "You'll be a beautiful woman and you'll never look like a pumpkin." He kissed her and took the flowers. "Does anyone else know our secret?"

She shook her head. "I can't decide if—how—when I should tell everyone. Maybe I shouldn't—let everyone be surprised."

Frowning, he said "The doctor's said you'll probably have to take early leave."

"Maybe we should make the announcement today," she grinned.

"Let's go."

Later, Catherine laughed as she related how odd it was for everyone to arrive early—Grissom and Sara uncharacteristically late. And how everyone had backed away—cleared a path—when Grissom opened the front door and held it for Sara who walked in with a bunch of flowers covering her belly.

Quickly, Sara looked around Catherine's beautiful house, saw everyone there, watched as Catherine walked toward her, and with six or seven feet between them, Sara held out the flowers.

"From our yard, Catherine." Sara said. "And we have an announcement to make!" She smiled, her grin spreading across her face as she watched her friend's face.

In an instant, Catherine's jaw went slack as her eyes processed what she was seeing. Sara's tight fitting red shirt was pulled over her abdomen showing an unmistakable outline—a shape most women recognized. She stopped before reaching Sara, her arm stretched to take the offered flowers; she choked. "A baby? You're having a baby?" Then, swiftly, her arms were around Sara and both women were laughing. Catherine caught Grissom before he could get out of arm's reach. "Did you do this? You! After all these years!"

Everyone was laughing as Grissom held up his hand. "Catherine, not only did I do this to my wife, but we've done it…" He folded two fingers and thumb to his palm, making a peace sign—two fingers. "Its not one—we're having two!"

There was a moment's silence as everyone processed what Grissom had said and what his upheld fingers meant. Then an uproar followed as the men saluted with 'high fives' and fist bumps, slapping his back as if he had won a race. Several hugged Sara, but then the women separated, moved into the kitchen, and the questions, comments and advice flew back and forth.

Catherine asked the obvious ones: "Due date? Have you had amniocentesis? Have you had all the tests? Do you know what you're having?"

"I have and everything is fine—two little wiggling babies in there—each one growing. And no, we're going to have a surprise. The doctor has actually blacked out any reference to gender."

"C-section?"

Sara's smile managed to hide her thoughts; she knew Catherine was not just prying but truly interested. "I'm planning on having a normal delivery—actually waiting until I go into labor." She saw the glances between several of the women. "If I can," she laughed. "I'm a bit late to all of this and I'm pretty certain I won't do this but once."

"You'll be fine!" Catherine insisted. "I did not know a thing about birthing babies when I had Lindsey!"

Later, as Sara undressed, Grissom stretched across the bed with Hank sharing his space. "What was all the girl talk in the kitchen?" he asked.

Sara laughed. "All the usual—questions, comments, suggestions—it's funny how babies make everyone so excited." She slipped a shirt over her head and joined him on the bed. "I think they are more excited than I am—I'm excited, but I think I'm more…" she grimaced, "I never thought this would happen for us, Gil." Her mouth remained down-turned for longer than necessary.

Grissom knew she worried about things he never thought about. Pulling her into his arms, he chuckled. "The men think I'm a stud."

Sara's mood lifted with the sound of his voice. "Hank needs to leave," she mumbled. Her giggle filled his ear. "Judy Robbins said we would not have time for sex for years."

Laughing as he led Hank into the kitchen, Grissom said, "Doc and Judy have three kids!" When he returned, Sara held his phone.

"Your mother called—left a message." She read from the screen, "Call me for lunch tomorrow."

He took the phone and placed it on the bedside table. "I'm not interested in my mother right now—her lunch will wait." He crawled into bed, lifted Sara's hand and kissed her palm. "Are you sure this is okay—doesn't hurt anything?"

Sara gave a quiet laugh. She found a sense of comfort and security by sinking into her husband's arms. He kissed her, gently at first, and then deepened it as she responded. Sara returned his kiss as greedily as he kissed her. As their lips came apart, she said, "You know sex during pregnancy with the father of one's baby seems to prevent eclampsia—which is a good thing." She kissed him, willing him into making love and he responded.

His hands were urgent, simply pulling his shirt over his head and doing the same to her. His mouth lingered, kissing, tasting her as heat seem to engulf his body and flow with his touch. He kissed her tangled curls, her smooth skin, the delicate eyelids that hid her dark smoldering eyes. Moving, kissing, taking her lower lip between his teeth, and then, still hungry, he kept his mouth against her skin as he progressed to her neck, tasting the fragrance of the soap they had used when they had showered. His hands explored the curves of her body, her spine, the crest of her hip and the new rise of her belly, his caressing hands slid to her thigh, opening her folds with his fingers, sliding into the wet darkness within.

Abruptly, Grissom stopped caressing her and raised himself on his elbow, covering her sex with his palm as he looked down at Sara. His desire for this woman had never diminished—if anything, it was greater now that she carried his children.

With a slight tremble in her voice, she asked, "What is it?" She tried to see his face but it was all shadowed.

"Oh, Sara," he said huskily. He kissed her again, prolonging it until they had to breathe. And then he was as urgent as she, almost savage in his need to be part of her. Sara's thighs opened with a delicate pressure from his knee and his erection was probing the damp throbbing entrance to her body, a force seemed to pull him inside her, steadily pushing, filling her until he begin to move, slowly within her. He rocked against her as flames shot along his spine to his brain and he was no longer capable of conscious thought.

Afterwards, they lay quietly for a time, letting their bodies relax in the warmth of their lovemaking cocoon. Sara floated as if in a dream; she loved her husband with a passion that astonished her with its intensity. And she was terrified—how could a woman love one person so deeply, so passionately—and in a few months, she would have two babies to love. How, she worried, would she be able to love their babies and keep this strong love for her husband.

Grissom shifted, his hand caressing her face. "Yes?" he asked, as if he read her thoughts.

"I love you."

He put an arm beneath her shoulders. "I love you, dear." His hand moved across her chest and caressed her breast, not erotically but with a soothing embrace more kin to massage. "I know you're worried, Sara. It's in your eyes." He leaned to her face and kissed her. "We'll do fine, honey. Most people do—babies are born and fed and diapered and grow into teenagers." His warm laughter caused Sara to smile. "Now I'm worried more about teenagers—two at the same time!"

She sighed deciding to reveal one worry—not all of them; she would never burden him with all the things running through her mind. "I'm afraid I—I'm afraid I don't know how—how can I love these babies like I love you? How does it all fit in?"

"Is that what's worrying you?" His soft laugh warmed her skin. "It's there—we have the capability to—to love in dozens of ways." She heard a deep rumble in his chest. "I've known for years that you love Greg, but not in the way you love me." His voice deepened, "Better not be, anyway."

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Sara, I will always love you. I love our kids and they are not even born! This is a big project—a big change for us. I'm fifty-nine years old and soon to be father to two babies. I'm—I'm sort of scared shitless!" He laughed and pulled her tight. "We'll figure out most of it—the rest won't matter."

The weeks went by with surprising swiftness and by the time Sara reduced her work schedule, she thought she was ready to sit with her feet propped up until something happened. Her belly did look like a pumpkin, she informed Grissom.

"I still love you," he said as he placed breakfast before her. He pulled his chair out and joined her at the table. "Are we ready?"

"I think so. We've finished our list—the room is ready." She patted her belly. "We're good to go—but we need to settle on names."

"Not Gilbert."

And then Catherine arrived.

Sara and her mother-in-law, who was thrilled to be a grandmother in her eighties, had set up a basic nursery in a small room adjacent to the master bedroom. The former owners had added it onto the house as a small sun porch so Grissom had covered the windows with blinds and they had furnished the space with two small beds, a small chest and a rocking chair.

Catherine called as she was driving to their house saying: "I'm in town for a few days…must see you, Sara!"

Grissom let her in; she was carrying several shopping bags. "Go get the others, will you? I've been in New York City and all I wanted to buy was baby clothes!"

Sara had gotten up and started toward the door. "Catherine, what did you buy?"

"These babies need clothes! I went shopping, Sara!" She piled four large bags on the sofa. "Go ahead, start looking!"

Grissom entered the house with more shopping bags. "Catherine! What is all of this stuff? We got diapers and gowns."

From one bag, Catherine pulled out two packages. "Well, I had to buy two of everything—and you know what I learned? A lot of new parents don't want to know if they're having a boy or a girl, so there's all these beautiful pastels and whites!"

Grissom sat down, pulling Sara beside him. His mouth hung open in stunned astonishment as Catherine kept pulling baby clothes from her bags. He glanced at Sara and saw a similar look on her face as more clothes and blankets—things he did not have a clue of their purpose joined the stack on the table.

"This is too much!" Sara finally managed to say.

Catherine waved a hand. "No! And if you have girls, you and I are going shopping! All of this is gender-neutral to six months sizes!" She pulled two soft stuffed animals from the last bag. "Can I see your nursery? Are you ready?"

"We are—waiting for," she laughed, "whatever comes next." Grissom tugged her to her feet and kept his hand on her back as they gave Catherine a ten minute tour of their house.

"And here is the nursery," Sara waved her hand at the former sunroom turned baby room.

The adults in the room took up almost all the floor space, but Catherine managed to turn, running her hand over each bed and the chest. "It's perfect."

Two days later, Sara rolled to her side early in the morning, pulled herself up to sit on the side of the bed and realized she could not see her feet. She stretched her leg in front of her and wiggled her toes before she stood. And fluid ran down her thigh. At first, she watched as the trickle became a stream and reached the wooden floor. For days she had felt a change, a crampy knotting of muscles across her pelvis, and now the true evidence of impending labor. Turning, she saw Grissom sleeping soundly and decided to let him sleep while she showered. But as she reached for a towel to wipe up the trail of fluid, what she knew was a true contraction hit her; she gasped and leaned against the wall. More fluid ran down her leg. A few minutes passed before she caught her breath, took the towel and headed back into the bedroom.

Grissom met her in the doorway. "What's wrong?" His face filled with such concern that he looked fierce.

She took his hand and smiled. "I think you are about to be a father."

In a relative short time, they were in a delivery suite with more nurses around them than players in a poker tournament. Yet it was quiet as an ultrasound was done—both babies were head down, Sara heard that. Fetal monitors were hooked up; a very solemn looking physician explained the epidural procedure. And through all of it, Grissom held her hand.

Without warning, a gasp broke from her causing her to gripped Grissom's hand with a strength he had not known she had. "Damn," she gasped. "So much fun…making it…them."

"Breathe, remember—all those exercises?" He grinned.

She grimaced. "I thought this epidural blocked the pain."

"Is she all right?" he asked a nurse checking one of the machines.

"She's fine—hang in there. You're both doing great."

Sara made a sound that was part groan and part laugh. Together, they counted and breathed, and everything around them faded away and voices merged and changed until contractions were so close the whole world seemed to be the beating of hearts—strong rhythms that came from within Sara's body, from the monitors attached to her body—and the doctor was beaming at her. Grissom's face broke into a wide grin; his face relaxed for the first time in hours.

"A boy—a boy, Sara." Grissom whispered against her ear.

The tiny infant cried and stretched arms and legs as someone placed him on Sara's abdomen. Her fingers met Grissom's as they both touched the wet, wailing baby and for several minutes they were speechless as they examined the infant. And then Sara's work began again, only this time it was much shorter and less than a half-hour later, she delivered her second son.

Names of their own, Grissom had insisted but Sara was adamant—both boys would share his name. After all she had been through, he relented. Carefully, she printed on the two forms: John Gilbert Grissom for the first born, and William Gilbert Grissom for the second.

The infants' grandmother agreed the names were perfect but, she signed to her son, "Why John and William?"

Grissom's fingers moved quickly, answering her question. "Mother, of all people, you should know." His fingers continued moving as he quoted: "A thing of beauty is a joy for ever: Its loveliness increases…"

Betty Grissom smiled; years ago she had introduced her son to the poetry of John Keats. She nodded her head, knowing the author of the words he would speak.

"Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind," he quoted.

A/N: What did you expect? Grissom loves poetry! One more chapter!

And thank you to those wonderful people who review-you know the work involved-the rest of you are a puzzle to us!