Some of the characters and situations in this story belong to Alliance Atlantis, CBS, Anthony Zuicker and other entities, and I do not have permission to borrow them. Others strongly resemble characters that sort of belong to ABC, though I seriously doubt anyone cares at this point. The rest belong to me, and if you want to play with them, you have to ask me first. No infringement is intended in any way, and this story is not for profit. Any errors are mine, all mine, no you can't have any.

Spoilers: general fifth season through "Unbearable"

Note: this is a sequel to "Rollercoaster", which really should be read first. It is an AU futurefic that includes a number of original characters.

A short chapter, but hopefully a sweet one.

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"Sara? Sara, honey, wake up."

Grissom put a tentative hand on Sara's shoulder and shook her gently. She hadn't moved since she'd fallen asleep next to him, but the faint moaning coming from her now was enough to make the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

She didn't move, but the moan deepened. Grissom, worried, shook her a little harder.

Sara's eyes snapped open, wide and dark in the dimness of his bedroom, and she made a strangled sort of gasp. The pulse at her throat was thrumming way too fast.

Going on instinct, Grissom slid an arm around her and pulled her against him. He was half-afraid that she would shove him away, but instead she huddled against him, her arms wrapped around her own torso.

She was shaking, hard shudders passing through her as though she were cold, but her skin was slick with sweat. Grissom held her tightly, berating himself. She told me. She told me years ago, and I didn't really listen.

But there was nothing he could do about the past. Grissom kept Sara close, and waited for her to relax.

It took a long time.

But gradually she softened, each separate muscle slowly unknotting, until she lay limp against him, her head resting on Grissom's chest. He lifted one hand to stroke her hair. "Sara?"

"Don't ask," she mumbled hoarsely, without looking up.

One corner of his mouth turned up in faint amusement. "I wasn't going to. Would you like me to make you some tea?"

Sara let out a long breath, then uncurled, letting her arms slide down to embrace him in turn. "No. Could you--"

She cut off the words, and when she didn't continue, Grissom made an inquiring noise. Sara sighed again.

"Could you just hold me for a little while?" she asked, her voice small and wavering.

Grissom swallowed hard, and tightened his hold on her again. "As long as you like, sweetheart." Forever.

Sara tucked her head under his chin, and Grissom listened to her breathe, staring out into the room for a long time.

What horrors do you carry in your head, Sara?

xxxx

The next two weeks went rapidly. Sara's transfer application went through, and she began reducing the number of new cases she took up in preparation for the move. Grissom bought yet another set of plane tickets to return to California to move his mother at last.

"I wanted to come back here before returning to Las Vegas, but it just doesn't fit," he told her one night, distressed.

"Don't worry about it. I'll be in Vegas pretty soon after that." Sara kissed his temple, tightening her arms around him where they sat on her bed, Grissom with his back against her chest. She loved holding him like that, though he didn't often let her do it; but tonight he seemed in need of comfort, and she was more than happy to snuggle him.

Grissom folded his hands over hers where they lay on his chest. They had spent the Saturday helping Ed paint the first floor walls in preparation for selling the townhouse, and he still had flecks of white on his fingers, but she admired them nonetheless. And now I finally know how they feel…

She smirked. Down, Sidle. Wrong place, wrong time.

"I know, but I'll still miss you." Grissom sighed.

"It'll give you time to clean out half your closet," Sara teased. Grissom had offered her the choice of a new house entirely, but his place had plenty of room for both of them and she saw no reason to uproot him. I always liked his place anyway, not that I saw much of it.

And if they found later that they needed more space, they could always move again.

Grissom tilted his head back lazily and pressed his lips to her throat. The soft prickle of his mustache made her shiver. "I'll clear out the spare bedroom for you," he murmured, the words vibrating slightly against her skin. "We can make it into a home office."

"I'd like that," Sara replied lightly, trying to keep her hormones under control without much success. "But will you have enough room?"

Grissom twisted around and sat up, leaning in to place a kiss just below her jaw before moving up to her lips. Sara let him cup her face in his hands, loving the feel of his skin against hers, the clean warm scent of him surrounding her. Sometimes she still had trouble believing it, that after all the pain and change he was hers at last.

"I have a storage unit," he muttered after a long kiss. "It's only half-full at the moment."

"Good," Sara said, struggling to remember what exactly they were talking about. Grissom's knees were straddling her legs, a position that let him loom over her slightly, and the temptation to simply slide flat and pull him down on top of her was strong, but Ed's stricture prevented her--that, and the fact that the door to her room was not locked.

Grissom really was a superb kisser, worshiping her mouth with as much attention as he gave to evidence and other important things. It almost hurt to pull her head back after another few delicious minutes. "Gil…"

He sighed, breath brushing past her cheek. "I know." He kissed the tip of her nose briefly and shifted to sit next to her. "Sorry."

Sara picked up his hand and laced her fingers with his. "No apologizing. You know damn well I didn't want to stop either."

He chuckled. "A few more weeks and it won't be a problem." He glanced at her clock. "Hey, if we're going to make our dinner reservations we'd better get ready."

Sara let him go and slid off the bed. "You're right." Grissom had made plans for dinner at a restaurant downtown; since he would leave for California again before they would have another weekend together, he wanted something "fancy", as he said. Sara was looking forward to seeing him in a suit again.

She strode over to her closet, where only about half her clothes still hung; the rest were packed. Flipping through the outfits, she was trying to decide when Grissom's voice came over her shoulder, a little diffident. "Could you wear the one you wore last time?"

"The burgundy one?" Sara pulled the dress out and held it up, considering. It was definitely a special-occasion dress. But sometimes it's like every time we're together is special.

"Yeah, that's it. I like the way it...flutters." Grissom wiggled his fingers, eyes bright, and Sara laughed.

"Burgundy it is, then." She draped the dress over her desk chair and began rummaging for stockings and a slip, but when she turned, lingerie in hand, Grissom was still sitting on her bed. "Umm..."

"I can't watch?" he asked innocently, but she could see the smirk hiding in the corner of his mouth.

Sara cocked her head. "If I thought watching would be all you'd do, I might let you stay. Out."

Grissom sighed theatrically and shoved to his feet. "All right, all right." He headed for the door, then paused with his hand on the knob. "If you need me I'll be looking through the keyhole."

Her glare had no force. "If you're not ready by the time I'm done I'm leaving without you."

Grissom snickered, and left. Sara grinned at the closing door and pulled off her shirt.

He drove them downtown, and they talked about Las Vegas and Los Angeles, both of them determined to enjoy the time they had while they had it. The valet took Grissom's car, and Sara savored the snug of Grissom's arm through hers as they walked inside. The restaurant was crowded, and they were slightly early, so they went into the bar to wait.

Grissom ordered them both drinks at the long gleaming expanse of wood, but before their orders came he put his hand to his pocket and came out with his cellphone. "Excuse me a moment?"

"Sure," Sara said, and watched him fondly as he headed towards the back hallway in search of privacy. Their drinks arrived, and she leaned against the bar and sipped her Manhattan, waiting for Grissom to return.

"Can I get you another one of those?" a smooth voice said at her elbow. Sara turned to find a small bearded man standing next to her, smiling. He was a good two or three inches shorter than she, but that didn't seem to matter to him; his gaze held appreciation.

Sara gave him a polite smile. "No thank you."

That didn't seem to deter him. "May I offer you company instead, then?"

She considered him briefly, taking in details quickly with an investigator's eye. He was probably in his mid-forties, balding, well-off; he wore a suit but no tie, and didn't give off the vibes of someone desperate or deviant.

She hoped he would stay polite. "I'm here with someone, actually." She nodded at the Scotch and soda waiting for Grissom.

The man shrugged cheerfully. "Okay. Tell him he's a lucky guy."

Sara had to smile again as he moved away; she was inclined to look at such encounters with a cynical eye, but he had an air of honesty that disarmed her. And he's got a healthy ego to be hitting on a woman who's four inches taller in heels.

All the same, she hoped Grissom came back soon.

But when he did a few minutes later, she could see the familiar frown of concentration yards away. "What is it?" she asked as he reached her.

Grissom frowned harder, looking uncomfortable. "Body in a park," he said in a low voice, so as not to attract the attention of their neighbors. "A little girl, probably about six or seven."

Sara winced inwardly. There must be major bugs, or they wouldn't have called him.

Grissom's face was a picture of indecision. "Go," she told him, appreciating his dilemma.

He hesitated. "It's a consulting job. I can turn it down."

Sara shook her head. "Gil. It's the work. I understand. Go already." She smiled at him, and he sighed, and thumbed off the mute to accept the job.

"You're not upset?" he asked, folding up the phone and pulling out his wallet.

She shrugged. "It's a body with bugs, but it's also somebody's missing kid. It's not like you're running off to do paperwork or something." Reaching out, she took his free hand in hers for a quick squeeze. "If it bothers you, you can make it up to me later."

She grinned teasingly, and he shook his head in turn, struggling to hide his smile and dropping a bill on the bar to pay for their drinks. "All right. Come on, I can see you to a cab at least."

"Sure you don't want some help?" she joked as they left the restaurant.

Grissom looked down at her outfit. "Don't tempt me." A taxi was conveniently disgorging passengers at the curb, and the driver nodded at Grissom's signal to wait.

"Call me later." Sara leaned in and kissed him, brief and warm. "I'll be up."

Grissom caught her head in his hands and brought her lips back to his for a longer, deeper kiss, oblivious for once to their surroundings. "You astound me," he said softly when he released her. "I love you."

Then he was tucking her into the cab, apparently oblivious to the shock that made her speechless, and giving the driver her address with his usual courtesy. As the vehicle pulled away, Sara twisted around to watch him striding across the parking lot towards his own car. He was opening his phone as he went, and she figured with stunned hilarity that he was so distracted by the prospect of bugs that he hadn't realized that it was the first time, aside from one oblique quote, that he'd told her he loved her.

So Gil.

She pulled on her seatbelt and settled back, and just couldn't stop smiling.

xxxx

She was waiting for him again.

Grissom smiled as he saw the line of light under his apartment door. He'd already spotted Sara's Mercedes in the parking lot, but it was warming to see that someone was anticipating his arrival.

Well, kind of. She was curled up in one of the armchairs, stockinged toes peeking out from under her skirt, and Grissom smiled down at her, feeling a tender ache behind his breastbone. He pulled off his coat and stepped out of his shoes before sliding his arms carefully beneath her and lifting.

Sara sighed, wrinkled her nose, and snuggled closer to him as he carried her into his bedroom, setting her down on the rumpled sheet. It was a delicate job to get her out of the dress without waking her, but eventually he managed it, carefully hanging the garment up to keep it from wrinkling further.

Grissom tucked the covers carefully around her shoulders before stripping off his clothes and heading for the shower.

He'd just rinsed off the lemon juice when the shower door swung open and Sara stepped in behind him. "You're supposed to be sleeping," he told her, but she just snorted and reached for the shampoo.

She seemed to love to wash his hair, something he didn't quite understand; but her fingers felt wonderful rubbing his scalp, so Grissom never objected. When he was clean all over, Sara turned him in the narrow space, putting her hands on his shoulders and looking him over seriously; but whatever she saw seemed to satisfy her, for she kissed him firmly and shut off the water.

They dried each other off; moved by an impulse he didn't quite understand, Grissom sat Sara down on the bed in her towel and knelt behind her so that he could work the knots out of her hair with his comb.

Still under some spell of silence, they lay down together naked, Grissom pulling the covers up over them both. Sara rolled over until she could rest her forearms on his chest and her chin on her arms, and looked down into his face for a long while, her expression grave. Grissom draped his own arm over her waist and waited.

"I love you too," she said at last, solemn and peaceful.

Her words spread through Grissom's veins like endorphins, a giddy, quiet warmth. He cupped her cheek in one hand, running his thumb over her cheekbone, unable to speak.

She smiled at him, a tiny serene smile, and leaned over to shut out the light before returning to his arms.

They slept as though they shared one skin, and even in his dreams Grissom was happy.

See Chapter 26