Title: Dreamers on the Rise

Author: Cropper

Pairing: GSR

Rating: Mature for Profanity, Graphic Imagery, and Adult Situations

Disclaimer: See Prologue

A/N: Thanks to Cheryl for the outstanding beta work on the G/S relationship snippets and holding my hand through some of the more intimate moments.

Summary: "No shepherd and one herd! Everybody wants the same, everybody is the same: whoever feels different goes voluntarily into a madhouse" Also Sprach Zarathustra Freidrich Nietzsche

Chapter Three

If there was a witness to my little life,

To my tiny throes and struggles,

He sees a fool;

And it is not fine for gods to menace fools.

Stephen Crane

"Jesus said, 'Show me the stone which the builders have rejected. That one is the cornerstone'."

The Gospel of Thomas (66)

I have preached the word and none have listened. You cling, still, to your idols, your graven images of deceit and deception. Your insolence is an abomination to my spirit, an insult to my glorious magnificence. You shall listen, you shall obey. You have no choice but to hear me and believe all that I say. Mine is the voice of reason. Mine is the voice of truth. Hear me. You will pay.

I have shown you the true path and still you stray. You hide in the neon jungle, burying your blackened souls in the greed and lust of sinful over-indulgence. You shall listen, you shall obey. You will follow my light and bow before me. You will worship at my feet and lick them clean. You will pay.

I have revealed my glory and my power and you have turned away. You slink back into that which has made you comfortable and compliant. Nevermore shall you retreat from me, for I am your God. I am the Shepherd, you the pathetic Herd. You shall do my bidding, and only my bidding, now and always. You will pay.

Red Lion has come.

Fear me.

The inky blackness of night was slowly dissolving into morning; radiant pinks and pastel blues were smeared across the horizon, heralding the dawn and ushering in a new day. Time was irrelevant, meaningless, in the sterile confines of the Crime Lab. All the members of the Graveyard Shift were working frantically, hoping to come up with something, anything that would give them a lead on their perpetrator. They were racing the clock for they knew what the coming day would bring…fire.

At some point during this second day of Judge Simmons' disappearance, flames would erupt, either in her chambers at the courthouse or in her own home, and everything the Judge had worked for, had fought for, had struggled and surpassed the odds for, would be nothing more than kindling for the conflagration that was to come. Even with 'round the clock police presence, even with extra security, there would be a fire. Some how, some way, this self-proclaimed "Red Lion" would find a chink in the armor, slip inside and...fire.

DNA evidence on the coffee cup, cigarette butts, chewing gum and other debris found in the courthouse parking lot was still pending. The rock, a very common stone that could be found in any landscaping store in Clark County or picked up in the outlying desert, had yielded nothing. There were no prints, no fibers, no blood smears, and no trace of any kind. Again, as in the other two cases, they had nothing substantial to work with and what little they did have, made absolutely no sense.

Jacob Simmons had been interviewed and cleared. He had been embroiled in a grueling board meeting when his wife had disappeared. Aside from the various criminal cases his wife had presided over, he could think of nothing in their personal lives or close circle of friends that would lead her to be a target for something like this. Alethea was an exceptionally kind woman, a great mother and a wonderful wife. Neither she nor Jacob had ever indulged in an extra-marital dalliance and, although they experienced the usual ebbs and flows associated with any relationship, their marriage was strong. Jacob left the interview to bring his sons home and wait in vain for a ransom call that would never come. The chances of him ever seeing his wife again were growing smaller with each passing hour.

Muriel Stremming had also been unable to provide any useful information. There was nothing on her current calendar in her pending cases that had any connection to the three victims. She had tried several cases before Judge Simmons and those cases would be reviewed for any possible links, but that avenue of investigation would most likely lead to another dead end. Muriel was not married and, at the moment, did not even have a live-in or significant other. She was either chosen at random or happened to be in a courtroom that had some significance to the kidnapper/killer.

The pressure for a break or a lead of some sort was mounting. The press corps was camped outside the doors of the LVPD waiting for any tidbit of information that might be tossed their way. Talk radio channels were blithering incessantly about the lack of progress and local television stations were beginning to question the competency of both the police and the criminalists. The Mayor, Sheriff and Ecklie were hounding Catherine mercilessly for a solve and Cat, in turn, was chewing every ass she could find.

Warrick had been sent to retrieve the case files connected to Judge Simmons and Ms. Stremming. He and Nick had fought for the opportunity to escape the lab, even if only for a few minutes, but Warrick had prevailed. Sara welcomed her own slight respite when she walked over to dispatch to pull the 911 voice logs of all calls pertaining to the three cases. She had to get out, even if just for a few minutes.

She purposefully looked for Jimmy Matthews, one of the overnight dispatchers. Jimmy was a stickler for rules and would not normally bend them for anyone, even the Mayor himself, but Sara knew his weakness and would not hesitate to exploit it. Jimmy was a small, shy, timid man who thought Grissom parted the Red Sea and walked on water. Jimmy practically worshipped the ground Grissom walked on and leapt at any opportunity to provide any type of assistance. Sara was aware of all of this and was not at all opposed to tossing Grissom's name about to get what she wanted.

As she had suspected, Jimmy was more than happy to help, nearly falling over himself in his haste to get what Grissom needed. "Here you go, Miss Sidle," he said while handing over copies of the tapes. "I hope they help Dr. Grissom find the guy."

Sara gave him a smile. "Thanks, Jimmy. They should be a big help. I'll let you know if Archie finds anything and I'll be sure to let Grissom know that the tapes came from you."

Jimmy practically beamed before clearing his throat. "Miss Sidle," he began hesitantly. "Ummm…would you like to go out for a drink or something sometime? With me?"

"Oh, wow, Jimmy," she spluttered. She had not expected him to ask her out. She thought all of Jimmy's love was reserved for Grissom and was surprised that he did not seem to know that she and Grissom were involved as it was common knowledge. She thought everyone knew that she and Grissom were a couple. "I really appreciate the offer and I'm truly very flattered. However, I am involved in a serious relationship and am just not interested in seeing anybody else." She winced as he seemed to deflate right in front of her. She knew that it had probably taken him awhile to gather the courage to ask.

"Tell you what. The next time the shift goes out for breakfast, I'll let you know and you can join us. Is that okay?"

He nodded, disappointed that Sara was seeing someone else, but pleased with the invitation to join the team and Dr. Grissom for breakfast. It was a fair trade-off.

Sara returned to the lab, dropped the tapes off for analysis and wandered into the breakroom for a much-needed cup of tea. There was nothing to do at this point but wait. She rested her head on her arms and closed her eyes. She was tempted to call Grissom but hoped that he was sleeping. He had been away for almost four weeks and Sara was feeling the bite of separation. The pangs of loneliness hit her the hardest when she had nothing to occupy her time. It was during these moments, when her guard was down and longing for Grissom most acute, that she drifted, recalling snippets of their life together to soothe her heart and rekindle her desires, slipping back to the first time they had shared a bed for anything other than sleep.

The move into physical intimacy had been cautious, despite the fact that they shared a bed on a nightly basis and were very comfortable with each other. They had touched and even kissed; sweet, chaste pecks to say "Hello", "Have a good day", Good morning", Sleep well", and "I love you". Their tongues had been timidly introduced to one another but were still at the polite small talk stage, discussing Platonic love and courtly Victorian notions of physical intimacy as opposed to anything more lusty and risqué. They had shared a few well-timed and well-placed caresses but nothing too hot and heavy and certainly nothing below the belt. They had seen each other in various stages of dress and undress but there was still a vast wilderness of uncharted territory to explore.

Neither really questioned why they were moving so slowly. Certainly the seriousness of Grissom's injuries had provided some early obstacles but all, save for his troublesome left knee, had largely faded with few visible scars left to tell the terrible tale. Maybe Sara was waiting for Grissom to make the first move to let her know that he was fully healed and physically capable of more rigorous activity, or maybe Grissom was waiting for Sara to show him that this was real and what she truly desired, that she believed in him and what they were building as much as he believed in her, in them. Or, maybe, both simply preferred to allow their hearts, minds and souls to form an iron-clad, unbreakable bond before bringing their bodies into the mix.

Past relationships and affairs were rarely discussed, a minor miracle for which Grissom was profoundly grateful, as he had still not revealed his virginity to Sara. She had shared the painful details about a couple of prior liaisons that had quickly fallen apart once sex became part of the equation because there was no foundation on which to build once the physical curiosity had been satiated. Both wanted so much more than just a mindless, loveless fuck. They wanted everything, they wanted forever. They had waited years to be together, so a few more days, weeks or even months were no great hardship. There was a time and place for everything, even sex and love, especially sex with love.

They were lounging comfortably, talking softly and unwinding; sharing their day and waiting for sleep to claim them. Both loved these quiet moments together when they could toss out their stress and anxieties and just enjoy the presence of the other. The room was dark, curtains shuttered tightly to blot out the light and the dimness just added to the peacefulness permeating the room and their bed.

Grissom rolled on his side to face Sara, watching her silently, head propped in his palm. She felt the weight of his perusal and glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, shocked by both the innocence and intensity of his quiet contemplation. He had never looked at her like that before and Sara felt a small quiver of anticipation. She turned her head to give him her undivided attention and he simply held her gaze for a long moment before scooting closer to nestle down between her breasts. Sara gently ran her fingers through his hair and breathed out a soft sigh and wrapped an arm about his shoulders, encouraging him to follow any path he might choose.

For long moments, Grissom merely rested, absorbing Sara's lovely essence into his skin, allowing it to flow into his soul and consume his senses. He tentatively nuzzled her breast and began to press whisper-light kisses along its supple roundness through her t-shirt, his warm breath dampening the thin purple cotton. Sara slid her hand down his softly bristled jaw, grasping his chin firmly to pull his mouth to hers for a slow, languid kiss. Shy, tentative pecks quickly morphed into slower, more serious presses. Sara's tongue nudged against Grissom's lips and she growled softly as she slipped inside his warm, eager mouth. Their tongues tangled wantonly, a wild, exotic tango fanning embers of want into roiling flames of need. It was frenzied, it was frantic, and it was perfect. But it wasn't nearly enough.

Both were breathing harshly when Grissom reluctantly pulled his mouth from hers. He stared at her, his glittering blue eyes boring in to the coffee-tinted depths of hers, silently asking permission before lifting her shirt over her head and baring her glorious skin to his wondering gaze. He visually devoured her pale, luminescence before finally placing a shaky hand upon her bare breast. With fingers twitching slightly, he cautiously closed them to enfold her mounded flesh. Sara released a breathy moan at the contact, reaching out to grasp Grissom's broad shoulders with both arms and pull him back to her hungry lips.

Grissom tenderly kneaded and caressed her breasts, sliding his hands over her taut nipples, and delighting in the feel of her tightly ruckered nubs slipping sensually against his sweaty palms. Sara arched into his hands, seeking more pressure, and he granted her wish, pressing more firmly as she groaned loudly in appreciation. His beard tickled the sensitive skin of her neck as his mouth moved lower to slide across her collarbones, tasting every inch of her flushed skin as he continued his journey downward.

Sara hissed sharply when his mouth finally closed around one of her painfully erect nipples. She held his head tightly in place as he suckled softly, sweetly. His thumb played with the other, rubbing maddening circles across the surface, pulling gently to mimic the suction of his mouth before slipping free to explore the quivering satin of her abdomen.

Sara could feel every whorl and groove of his fingertips, every friction ridge against her awakened skin as his hand skated lower to tangle in her dark curls. She whimpered when his mouth left her breast but bit her lip when he gently removed her panties. Grissom was mesmerized by the sight splayed out before him. He had seen girlie magazines and stag films before but never the sheer beauty of Sara glistening with arousal. He swallowed hard before giving into temptation and sliding a finger into her moist cleft.

"Sara, please," he begged softly. "Teach me how to love you."

Sara was astounded. Never had anyone taken the time to ask, let alone seemed to care what she liked. Her throat was tight with emotion as she placed her smaller hand over his and guided him into herself. His hand trembled as she shyly revealed her secrets. She showed him where to touch, how to touch, she taught him her rhythm and pressure. She showed him things she had never shared with anyone else and he was a very avid student. She removed her hand and pulsed beneath him, straining for more.

"Gris, I need...I need..." She could not continue the hoarse whisper and grabbed his hand again to show him. She guided two of his sturdy fingers up her slick channel, moaning loudly and he began to stroke and rub, moving in and out in sync with her gyrating hips. His mouth reclaimed her nipple as he thumb sought out the bundle of nerves. He brushed against it twice before Sara tensed, cried out and clenched tightly around his fingers.

Her breathing was still ragged when Grissom snaked his tongue out to taste what his fingers had just wrought. Sara wound her hands into his hair as he greedily retraced the route she had drawn, an erotic trail forever emblazoned in his mind. Her scent was intoxicating, her flavor overpowering. Sara was a delectable feast, a succulent delicacy that would forever leave him craving more. He redoubled his efforts and was rewarded with a painful tug on his scalp and squeak of his name as Sara rode off into ecstasy once again.

He moved back up the bed and wrapped his arms around her, snuggling her to him as she drifted through her hazy afterglow. Grissom was not exactly sure what came next. Well, in theory, he knew, but he was uncertain of the protocol. He was aware that it was "his turn", so to speak, but he was more than satisfied to simply hold her. True, he was completely aroused and very uncomfortable, but his needs were not urgent enough to make him ask Sara for anything more. If she was not willing to continue he was fine with that. She had already given him so much more than he ever thought he had a chance to receive. He would forever cherish this gift. And, once she was asleep, he would just slip into the bathroom and relieve the pressure. He was quite skilled at taking care of matters himself.

As Sara slowly recovered, she realized that Grissom was holding her, helping her come back to herself. She could feel him unconsciously grinding against her thigh. He was rock hard and his sleep pants were damp. Her eyes welled with unshed tears, for despite the fact that he had to be anxious to continue, he had waited for her instead of blindly seeking his own release. Such good deeds deserved a reward, and Sara decided to show Grissom just how much she was touched by his loving and thoughtful concern.

She licked her way down his sternum, pausing to nibble at his flat nipples, and grinning wickedly when his breath caught in his throat. Her hands traced the thin line of fur leading from his navel to points south and deftly loosened the drawstring holding his pajama pants in place. She bade him to lift his hips and pulled his bottoms completely free and tossed them heedlessly on the floor. She had seen Grissom nude before, several times in fact, as she had tended to him throughout his recovery, but never like this, never fully aroused and gloriously erect. He was an impressive sight – long, thick and pulsing with heat.

"Oh, wow, Gris. If I'd known this is what you've been hiding in your boxers all this time, I'd have jumped you years ago."

Sara reached for him and watched as his eyes widened with shock and amazement. It was the first time that a hand other than his own had ever touched, let alone danced purposefully along his shaft. His chest was heaving; his breathing labored as he reveled in the delicious torture and fought to furiously control the rapidly building orgasm churning madly within his testicles. He had fantasized about someone, anyone, touching him intimately for years, but the reality, and the fact that the hands belonged to Sara, was far too overwhelming for him to process.

Sara indulged in a few firm strokes before lowering her head to suckle his weeping tip. Grissom's hands gripped the sheets and nearly ripped them from the bed as she lapped noisily, trying to catch every droplet oozing from his throbbing cock. When she finally took all him of him in, his reaction was immediate and unexpected. He thrust wildly, grasped at her hair and tried to pull away as if the heat of her mouth scalded him. She batted his hands away and forced her weight upon his hips to hold him in place as she ruthlessly applied more suction and hummed a little tune of absolute delight. She knew he was close but had barely begun to move when his orgasm rocketed violently with no warning. She swallowed quickly and rubbed his stomach in long soothing strokes, overwhelmed and utterly pleased with herself.

He was completely limp. His lips moving but no sound was forthcoming. He was dazed and completely unaware of anything except the intense pleasure Sara had just selflessly given him. Sara kissed him softly and watched with amusement as his eyes blinked open and he struggled to focus. "Damn, baby," she muttered, grinning like the much-satisfied cat that had just devoured a helpless canary. "You jumped like you were on fire. If I didn't know better, I might think that was the first blow job you'd ever had."

Grissom thought for a moment, wondering how to respond. Should he stretch things a bit and tell her that it had just been a long time, which was technically not a lie since never is a pretty long time, or simply tell her the truth?

"It was," he quietly confessed.

"Really?" Sara was secretly pleased. She knew that at his age he had been around the block a few times and was thrilled that she had been able to give him something he had never before received.

He nodded, certain that he was blushing, as he rose from bed and moved towards the bathroom. Sara heard running water and Grissom returned a few minutes later with a warm washcloth and proceeded to erase the sticky residue of their mutual passion from her body, rubbing the nubby cloth over her still-sensitive folds in gentle, loving strokes.

Grissom settled back in bed, not really sure what to expect. He had never been in this situation before. What happens after two people share such closeness? Were they supposed to stare at the ceiling until sleep overtook them? Were they supposed to talk about what happened? Should he thank Sara for what she had done or apologize for having such a short fuse? Had he managed to please her? Was she satisfied with his first bumbling efforts at love-making? Should…

His worrisome thoughts were interrupted when Sara pecked his lips sweetly and nestled down into her usual spot upon his chest. She stroked the skin over his heart a few times, as if to reassure herself that what had just occurred between them was real. Her eyes fluttered and Grissom could barely make out her soft whisper as she drifted off.

"Love you."

He held her tighter and sighed dreamily. Despite the splinter of self-doubt tickling through his brain, the wisp of performance anxiety fluttering in the dark recesses of his conscience, Grissom honestly could not remember a moment in his life when he had ever experienced such unadulterated happiness. He had not known that such bliss existed and, until Sara, he had not dared hope that he would be allowed to grasp even the smallest sliver of paradise.

"Too."

Ah, that's a long time you know

For that kind of wind to blow

Long time ago we were dreamers on the rise

Sara was startled from her doze when Nick spoke in her ear and gently shook her shoulder.

"Hey, the call came in. It's time to roll."

"Where," she asked, trying to quickly shake the vestiges of her very pleasant musings and slip back into criminalist mode.

"The courthouse," Nick replied, grim faced. "Somehow the SOB slipped past security and torched the chambers."

Sara nodded resolutely and rose from her chair. It was time to get back to work.

"Oh," Nick tossed over his shoulder. "We got a DNA hit on that coffee cup you found in the parking lot. You will never guess who it is."

Sara waited impatiently while Nick paused for dramatic effect. He had definitely been working with Greg way too much.

"Officer J. J. Cephas."

To Be Continued...