Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: For those worried, Grissom is not Jace's father. Remember Jace said his mom left them for a while when he was 11? ...Jace is only like eight years younger than Grissom. More than likely, Grissom couldn't produce children at that age. :)

Tell me what you think! Also, just so you know, Grissom's memory in this one is a little dark... I kept it tame, because it upset me just to write it, but... fair warning.

Chapter Seventy One:

"…Gil?"

I shook my head. …I absolutely could not deal with this right now. This was… twisted. Sara managed words again before I did. "…Your name is Anne… Not Susan." A glance at her told me that she wasn't handling this turns of events any better than I was. Despite being unable to string words together, I managed to guide her to sit down before she fainted.

Susan cleared her throat. "Suzanna, actually. Richard has always called me 'Anne'." Richard, I knew from my relationship with the woman, was her ex-husband. …Though, I had been under the impression that Jace's parents had never divorced.

"You lied to me."

She turned a surprised gaze on me. I tried to determine her age—I had been nineteen when we started our affair, and she had been thirty-eight—I was now forty-four, which would make her sixty three. No, sixty four—her birthday was in spring. But she looked younger than that… her hair was still brown, though she might be dying it, and her eyes were bright green, just as I remembered them. Another quick bit of math—I knew Jace was eight years younger than me, because it was a fact that had haunted my insecure mind during the past half year I'd spent not talking to Sara. Which meant that when I had met her, Jace had been eleven. …That certainly shed some light on his crazy determination to keep his 'family' together. "…Excuse me?"

"…You told me you were divorced."

Her mouth fell open, and then closed. Finally, she huffed, "…What are you even doing here?"

I hesitated, for a moment, but the irony of the situation was overwhelming. "…I'm in love with your son's wife, actually. …Apparently I have a thing for married women." I snapped, my head starting to pound, though it was unsurprising—I had simply been waiting for the migraine to start. At least it was minor, so far.

"…I need to sit down." She said, moving to sit at the table beside Sara, who looked positively alarmed at the prospect of her mother-in-law and my former lover being the same person and coming closer to her. She stood up in alarm.

"…When did my life become a fucking soap opera?" She demanded, and I reached out to her, wanting to take her in my arms and somehow soothe her, despite my own mind still reeling from the discovery… but she backed away from my attempts as well. "I just… I need a minute… alone." She dashed off towards her bedroom and I sighed heavily, watching her go.

Susan turned to me. "...Does my son know?"

I raised an eyebrow. "…About you and I or Sara and I?"

"Either."

"…He doesn't know about you and I, because I had no idea that he was… that you were… Oh my god, how did I not see this? He's just as controlling and manipulative as you were!"

She turned her angry gaze on me. "And you're any better? …Is Sara only the second married woman you've slept with, or were there others between us?"

I blinked in surprise and took a step back. "…Are you kidding me? You… You lied to me, seduced me, used me… and you're throwing it in my face that you were married?"

"You couldn't have had as many qualms with it as you're implying… you're in my son's home banging his wife while his child is missing… so much for the good catholic school boy I left behind."

It took everything in me not to scream, to lose my temper, to take a knick knack off the wall and fling it at the floor. Instead, I stormed past her, out of the front of the house, to sit on the curb on the end of the street. I had never in my life shown violence towards a woman and I wasn't going to start now, in Sara's home, while Ayla was missing. I glanced around me—it was still light outside, despite evening approaching, because it was summer. Still, it was the time of day when the sun is lower in the sky and the light not so direct… and I took several deep breaths, trying to calm myself.

The fact of the matter was that I was a grown man in my forties, not a young man, barely out of adolescence. So I shouldn't feel so vulnerable being confronted with this woman from my past, but I did… I had been shaking when I was in the room with her, whatever calm I had expressed a ruse. A large part of me simply wanted to run away from this situation, because it was a little too screwed up for me to process… but the larger part of me needed to see Ayla safe at home, so I would once again choose to stay in a situation in which I felt vulnerable and powerless.

I swallowed hard, looking at the concrete beneath my shoes, my head spinning with old moments.

I knocked on her office door, only half-pretending to be nervous. I was always a little nervous when I came here, and not just because we could get caught… She made me nervous. I swallowed convulsively when I heard her sharp reply, "Come in." …The harsh tone instead of the welcoming purr that I had on occasion been privilege to told me that she was not in the mood to be the teacher with whom something spontaneously occurred… she was playing her usual role of the teacher who took control.

Even as my heart was pounding and my palms were sweating, I felt myself getting hard just thinking about it. I didn't understand the effect she had on me, but I was hopelessly in love with her, head over heels… and if this is what she enjoyed, I was happy to oblige.

I turned the knob quickly, knowing it would be worse if I made her wait on me, and slipped inside. "Professor Slade…"

My heart pounded harder as she snapped a ruler against her desk—she was wearing a fitted black skirt that was knee length but had dramatic slits up the sides, revealing the top of thigh high stockings, and a very tight red button up blouse. "Gil Grissom… I'm surprised to see you in my office. …I missed you in class this week."

I swallowed—of course I had been in class every day… I never skipped class—but she was playing the game, and so was I. I hiked my backpack on my back. "I… was hoping I could make up for my absences… do some extra credit…"

She walked around her desk and I took in the woman who had been my consistent lover and sexual educator for several months—although thirty nine, the woman looked like she was just pushing thirty. She had a beautiful face, gorgeous body, and the things she did to me… "I don't give extra credit. …You know that, Mr. Grissom. If you want to do well in my class, I expect you to attend consistently, do your homework, and study…"

"I will. I… I want to. I just… I've had some personal stuff going on." I said, because I knew that if she was saying no to extra credit, she wanted me to convince her with some added vulnerability. I don't know how I'd learned all her little cues so quickly… but I'd always been a good student.

"Oh?" She was now in front of her desk… she slid up onto it and gestured for me to take the seat in front of the desk, which would put me inches from her long, smooth legs, the slit on her skirt all too visible.

I sat down, nodding. "My… girlfriend just broke up with me and… I found out my scholarship is being discontinued next semester. It's been a tough week but… I really need this grade so I can apply for more aid…"

"Mmm…" She purred, sliding down. "…So it sounds like… you'd take just about any assignment to make up the time you've missed… We had a pop quiz today. It will take quite a lot." She shook her long hair so that it fell in a cascade over the back of her shoulders as she arched her back, making the fabric on her shirt stretch, tiny holes between the buttons over her breasts telling me she was wearing black lingerie.

I was starting to feel dizzy with how much I wanted her, but I knew I wasn't allowed to ask for her… she was in charge. …She was always in charge. "…I'll do anything to save my grade. …Anything!"

"…Are you sure about that?" She asked, and the trace of delight in her voice over the power she was getting ready to exhibit sent chills through me, simultaneously frightening and arousing. I squirmed in my seat.

"Absolutely."

"…Then lock the door."

I got up quickly, suddenly uncomfortable in my jeans, and locked the door to her office, despite the rest of the building being dark and deserted. I turned back to her. "…What do you want me to do?"

"…Are you a virgin, Gil?"

I blinked. If she asked the question that way, the only correct answer was yes. But there was more to it than that… she wanted something more. I cleared my throat, taking a step back towards her. "I, uh… I'm not sure… if we should be discussing…this."

Her lips curved into a smile. "…Oh, Gil, are you embarrassed…? There's no reason to be ashamed of being a good boy…" Ah, there it was. She wanted me to be a virgin because I was something innocent for her to taint. Other times it had been for other reasons… and other times she had not cared whether I said I was or I wasn't. But tonight…

"I, uh… I'm catholic, Professor. …It's a mortal sin to have sex out of marriage."

She grinned—I had said something she liked. Probably because it was fairly close to the truth… when we'd had our first encounter, she'd been married… after the fact, I told her it couldn't happen again because I was Catholic. "…Well… how badly do you want to pass this class, Mr. Grissom?"

I swallowed again. "…Badly. Desperately, Professor. I… I will do anything, just like I said…"

She slid back up on her desk and spread her legs, resting one high-heeled foot on each of the chairs before her, one of which I'd just been sitting in. At the apex was a scrap of black lace. She leaned back, one hand bracing her against the desk and the other slowly unbuttoning her blouse. "…On your knees, then, Mr. Grissom…"

I moved over to her, feeling a mixture of shame and submission battling with the excitement of being directed to pleasure her…I moved to my knees between her creamy thighs, inhaling and feeling the strain against my jeans increase. …I would never be sure why this gorgeous woman had chosen a skinny, unattractive, nerd like me… but if this is what it took to keep her around… I moved to press my mouth to her, but the ruler snapped against her desk again and I jumped.

"…Did I tell you that you could touch me?"

Shit. "N-no, ma'am."

"Stand up."

I did and she slid down again, unbuttoning my pants aggressively and sliding them and my tighty-whities down with them. I was trembling even though I knew she would most likely only tease me… for hours, she would go back and forth between bringing me to the brink while not allowing me release upon threat of punishment—the ruler was not simply a prop—and having me make her come. Her hand reached out for me and I was dreading it as much as I was anticipating it.

"Gil?" Sara's hand fell on my shoulder and I jumped about a foot.

"Oh, Jesus, Sara, you scared the hell out of me…" I realized with irritation that I was not only trembling in my memory but her on the curb outside her home.

"…I'm sorry. …I… Gil, I shouldn't have reacted that way. …I know what she did to you, and it wasn't your fault. …and I know it's not easy for you to be around her, now."

I nodded, not meeting her eyes—how could I? She knew that the woman had wanted me because she liked my innocence and got off on control… but if Sara had any idea how severely the woman had degraded me… I was still ashamed. I couldn't stand for Sara to know that. It had taken me years and years to think of sex in a normal way after her… to not expect pain and control and manipulation and shame. …It wasn't that I didn't understand what we'd done… the fetishes and the role playing… by all means, consenting adults in their own homes had the right to do whatever they wanted.

But I hadn't been consenting—not really. I was all but a child… I'd never had any social interaction in high school. On a purely social/emotional basis, I was probably still sixteen. And that, I knew, was why she'd picked the skinny, unattractive nerd. ...She'd seen my vulnerability, and sought to exploit it, apparently while lying about being divorced.

"…I'm not going anywhere. Ayla needs me." I said, because it was the only response I thought I could manage. Sara slipped her hand into mine, squeezing gently.

"…She's not going to tell Jace. If you want me to keep it from him as well…" I nodded, and so did she. "…Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." I said. It was taking all my strength simply to not shake while she was close enough to notice. She nodded again, and tugged on my arm.

"I… have to go inside… in case the phone rings again. Come with me."

"No."

"…I sent her away, Gil. …But she's going to cross paths with you either way… stay with me, please? I won't let her hurt you."

"Jesus Christ, Sara, I'm a grown man. I'm not afraid of her." I snapped, irritated that once again I was wearing my weakness on my sleeve. She frowned, but nodded.

"Okay… I hate the woman, and I'd rather not be alone with her. …Will you please come in, for me, while she's leaving?"

I looked off to one side, aware of what she was doing but also not wanting to sit out here alone, waiting for the woman to come out to either take a car or get into a cab to leave… I took the out she gave me. "…Well, if you need me…"

"I do!" She insisted, grateful, and jumped to her feet, offering me her hand. I ignored it, standing up myself, needing to show that I was not weak in any way, and she let her hand drop, frowning again but still moving to walk close to my side as we headed back to the house. I knew what I was doing and so did she… but I couldn't seem to help it, and I was grateful that she wasn't holding it against me.