A/N Thanks to the terrific betas CSINut and Cybrokat. Big ups to CSINut and Unspokenloves for talking me through this chap. Thanks to Toni for making sure my cohesiveness was on the ball. This really struck a few of you. I appreciate your support. Hope the next few chaps affect you in the same way. Your reviews are really helpful, the good the bad and the ugly. Well maybe not the ugly but the good and the bad for sure.

Chapter 2

Gil Grissom turned the blue invitation over in his hands. It was dotted with cartoon cowboys herding number "1"s. Wilson Stokes would be one on Sunday. There was to be a small, jovial celebration. Nick's and Mara's parents would fly in on alternating weeks so that they could have young Wilson all to themselves.

Gil had never thought he would dread the birthday party of any one single tiny human being. He had not seen any of them since the "incident," as it came to be known in his mind. He could not stand to see the disappointment in their eyes. They had taken care of Sara when he had not been able to, when he had disappeared, waiting to either get better or to die.

Sara watched him as he flipped through the mail. His forehead creased as he read the 4x5 card. For a split second, she had thought it was message from Eva. She now saw that it was Wilson's party invitation. The date was already marked on her calendar.

She sat a cup of strong tea in front of him. You could only find the tea at one store in Vegas, a small shop that only carried high end products from the United Kingdom. She put a small white plate with shortbread cookies in front of him, also from the shop. She put one sugar cube in the tea and stirred. The spoon made a jarring sound as she placed it on the saucer.

Sara was a good wife, a good life partner. He was unclear why she still treated him so well. Maybe she was trying to squelch any replication of her own tumultuous childhood. She would do that for Hope, for the new baby, for herself.

He had been surprised to find the stack of mail on his desk. He couldn't remember the last time he had actually opened his own mail. Sara worked out their schedules and lecture fees. She signed the contracts and figured out how much to charge. No bills came in the mail. They landed in Sara's email account and were paid with a few mouse clicks. At first he thought she was worn out from the pregnancy until he realized that she was afraid of what she might find addressed to him or to them as a couple.

"What does one get for the smallest cowboy?" she asked softly.

"A Shetland pony?" he countered.

She laughed softly and ran fingers through his hair. He didn't feel her fingers leave his hair. He did feel vacant air around him after she had left.

xx

Dana Brass had no illusions about motherhood and marriage. She had been married. It hadn't worked out. Still, there had been enough good in it for her to consider remarriage seriously. Motherhood, however, had been her primary goal. She knew enough about life to understand that total and complete dependency by another human being was not all sunshine and roses. She just hadn't counted on two little people at one time, though the doctors had warned her that multiple births were not unusual when scientists began to meddle with nature.

"Dane, have you seen my birth certificate? I mean have you seen all those numbers in row. Cause I know how old I am. You don't look your age but you ain't no spring chicken neither."

The immediate maternal selflessness surprised her. Dana Owens, globe trotting heiress, was now content to sit in her backyard and eat burgers cooked by her husband and shaped into oddly formed patties by tiny brown hands.

Her sweet husband. James Brass had been something of a surprise. She knew he was a good guy, a hard working man. At first, Dana had not been sure she loved him. He was a practical, reasonable choice. He was smart. He made her laugh. He didn't give a toss about her money. He worked hard. He could account for his one child and one ex-wife and she rarely saw his head turned by any woman under thirty. All in all, he was an excellent catch. He would make a good father and husband. Gil Grissom had not exaggerated the virtues of Jim Brass.

When Brass and Dana had celebrated their three week courtship, he told her that he loved her. Dana stared at him with wide brown eyes not bothering to breathe and wondering how she was going to weasel out of the awkward moment. He had laughed and kissed each cheek. He loved her enough for both of them. She would come around.

She had, exactly three days later. She had looked across the café table at James Brass, who'd been conversing with the wine steward about some Australian vintage, when she had been struck by how much she did love him.

"I love you."

He had turned from the steward and looked at her. "Yeah I know. Just waiting for you to figure it out. The 1997 was very acidic. Do you have anything from '98?"

Now she stood looking at her husband as he and the boys sat on the bed patiently waiting for her to finish with her pre-party inspections.

Gifts for Wilson Nicholas Stokes. Check. Gift certificate to Circus Circus from Jimmy and stuffed horse from Isaac.

Stylish yet casual attire for all Brass males. Check. Denim shorts and different color pullovers for the boys. Jeans and tan button-down for Brass.

Stylish yet casual attire for Brass female. Check. Khakis that showed that if she didn't still have all of it, she had most of it. Sleeveless coral top. Platinum and diamond earrings, platinum locket with picture of her family, low-heeled sandals that showed off freshly pedicured feet.

Lecture on behavior away from home. Check. "All right, boys. There will be no fighting."

"No fighting." The boys repeated, anxious to leave for the party. Their mother had told them that there would be a pony at Wilson's house. The promise of riding it had restrained their behavior for a solid week. Dana had a nice bottle of wine for the Stokes' as a thank you.

"No stealing off of other children's plates."

"No stealing." The Brass boys had huge appetites and sometimes found it more convenient to take from others' plates rather than asking for seconds. There argument was that that they only took food from children who were no longer eating. Their mother was always talking about starving people in other countries. Why did they need seconds when there was perfectly good food to be had all around them?

"No hitting any other children or adults for that matter."

"No hitting."

"You will share your toys."

This was not really necessary; the Brass twins were very generous. They nodded their heads up and down.

"Yes Mamma."

She kissed one chubby cheek then the other. She eyed her husband, who was still seething over Grissom's behavior. "You will play nice with others. Understood?"

"Yes Mamma."

She grinned at Jimmy's perception. "Daddy didn't say it. He got to play nice too."

xxx

A few suburbs away, Sara Sidle Grissom pulled her daughter's hair into a ponytail.

"Mommy I want to wear it down," she protested.

"Yeah I know you do. But you have your father's hair and if you wear it down you will sweat it into a big puff ball once you start playing. Do you want a puff ball?"

"Uncle Warrick's hair is a big puff ball. He's very stylish."

Stylish. The girl had just said stylish. Sara rolled her eyes. "Well Uncle Warrick has more money and more styling products than you currently have at your disposal. He's about to open his own practice. The only thing you practice is ballet, so a ponytail it is for you girly."

"Pink bow on it?" Hope bargained.

"Of course."

Gil watched stood in the bathroom listening to his daughter and his wife. There was nothing new about the conversation. Hope always wanted to wear her hair down for an event. If there would be running, skipping or jumping involved, Sara vetoed it.

He was dragging out his own preparations. For once, his perpetually pink-clad daughter was ready before he was.

"Daddy, come on. We don't want to be late," Hope huffed from the bathroom doorway.

"All right, Princess, just trying to contain the puff ball." He ran mousse through his half damp hair.

Sara leaned against the door frame and brushed a stray blond lock behind her daughter's ear. "Are you still mad at Kramer?"

Hope looked confused for a minute. "Nah. We don't stay mad always."

Sara nodded. "The beauty of good friends."

xxx

Kramer Elizabeth Brown was named after her paternal great grandmother, Elizabeth Kramer Brown.

Catherine had been stunned to find herself pregnant by Warrick. She had been to her see her friend Sandy Blue for her biannual appointment. Some ex-strippers got a profession like Cath. Some of them got married. Some of them got religion. Others, like Sandy Blue, got healthy.

"Catherine Willows, I do believe you got yourself knocked up. If your aura is correct. Have you told tall dark and brown... No pun intended."

"I told you we weren't seeing each other. We did the deed one night. It's been years in the making. We woke up the next morning and decided we were better friends."

"Good that you are friends, 'cause you are going to have a baby."

So she had been forced to deal with the fact that not only was she pregnant, but five months pregnant, over forty and unattached. It had taken her two weeks to work up the nerve to tell Lindsey and her mother and another two weeks to tell Warrick who had looked at the little bump of stomach that was pressing through her clothes.

"So you wait six months to tell me this."

"I didn't know."

"You didn't know. Six months, Catherine. How could you not know?"

"Look, when I was pregnant with Lindsey I had to stop dancing like three months out. I was huge. I mean umpo lumpo huge. This month is the first time I have seen hide nor hair of this kid."

And so they'd had a baby. Dated and finally gotten married. It was backward but it worked for them.

She was pulled back to present day by Kramer running down the hall. The girl never stopped running. She ran down soccer fields and basketball courts and through their large house.

"Kramer, would you please stop running." Catherine called wearily. Kramer appeared in the kitchen where her mother was rummaging through drawers looking for tape to finish wrapping Winston's gift.

She wore blue shorts and white pullover. Her dark brown hair was corralled into a high ponytail that would not make it through the afternoon.

Catherine and Sara were convinced that God mixed up their daughters. Kramer, born four months after Hope, was tall and leggy. The younger girl was prone to fits of outraged temper when other children were treated unfairly on the playground. Last week she had cornered Douglas Pearson in the boy's bathroom after he had kicked dirt on Roberta Fitzpatrick. The coltish tomboy was also consumed with sports. Her first words had been uttered during the NBA playoffs when she called out "foul."

Hope Grissom was a completely different animal. She danced through life confident that she would day be called upon to tap across a Broadway stage. A pretty girl that would someday be beautiful, she knew how to correct injustices without drawing attention to her retribution. A spider in a bully's book bag. Tripping someone with a dainty foot when they laughed at someone's clothes or new glasses. H, as Kramer called her, dragged home one bullied child after another so that Kramer could teach them the proper technique for a quick right jab followed by an uppercut.

"Where's Daddy?" Kramer asked.

"He's at work. He's going to meet us there."

"Coolly. Is he going to work those weird hours for always?" came Kramer's deep voice.

Catherine handed the child a box wrapped in blue paper. "Nah, in a few years it won't be as bad."

"Let's hurry Mommy. Uncle Gil is bringing bugs."

"Good ole Uncle Gil." Catherine said sarcastically.

xxx

It could have been worse, Gil Grissom told himself. They could have banished him from the group completely. As it stood, there was an aloof coolness than ran through most of the evening. They smiled. No one hugged him. Some avoided his eyes. The men kept their distance lest they be contaminated by the invisible scarlet letter that he wore. It could have been much worse.

He was in the kitchen when Catherine cornered him. The children had ridden the pony and stuffed their faces. Gil was pulling a beer from the fridge on the way to the back yard where Hope and Kramer eagerly awaited the unveiling of a rare insect he had found in the park. Truth be told it wasn't that rare. Uncle Gil and Daddy was still a star in their eyes and he thanked God for starry-eyed little girls that still believed in fairy tales.

He stood and found Catherine's sad eyes on him. Her body trembled with something other than rage and tears pooled on her chin. He wanted to hug her and tell her he was sorry. He wanted to tell everyone he was sorry. That he had made a dreadful mistake and that he was going to fix it. He knew that speaking to her or touching her would not soothe the pain he saw etched in her face.

"I thought you were one of the good guys, Gil."

He placed the beer back in the refrigerator and looked at her. His sincere blue eyes nearly caused her to turn away. "Me too, Catherine. Me too."

He walked out and into the back yard.

Hope was that last one to fall asleep. Jimmy and Isaac slipped into fitful slumber just as the Disney movie started. Wilson had lasted another 30 minutes, determined not miss one single moment of the festivities. Kramer succumbed soon after, her long body draped across her father's. When Hope's mouth fell slightly open and her breathing slowed Gil stood took her to the spare bedroom where Kramer and the twins slept.

He held her close to him and he tried to position her next to Kramer in the king-sized bed. She dug her fingers in his back and mumbled sleepily.

"No Daddy. Don't want you to go. Finish your book here."

Eventually he managed to soothe the fretful child. He watched for a bit to make sure she was indeed asleep. Once he closed the door he had let out a silent howl of pain, pressing his face against closed door. He cried soundlessly for what seemed like hours, though it was in fact minutes.

He wondered if his family would be better off without him. Hard pain thumped through his chest as he thought of his five-year-old self waiting on the front steps for his father to come home. He slid down to the floor as salty tears ran into his mouth and wet his beard.

Dana's presence startled him. She slipped one arm through his and squeezed his hand. He didn't have the energy to return the gesture.

TBC