Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.

Author's Notes: I love my readers;) Thanks for sticking with me.


The Invisible Man

by Kristen Elizabeth


The first and simplest emotion which we discover in the human mind is curiosity. - Edmund Burke


It was odd how little her life changed in the first few months. The nausea associated with pregnancy was rare and never lasted long. She did find herself sleeping more and eating better, but other than that, her life progressed almost as normal.

Until the day when she couldn't fit into any of her pants.

Her first trip to the maternity store was a nightmare of beaming salesgirls who were just a little too excited about oversized tops and jeans with expandable fronts, and tired-looking women in far more advanced states of pregnancy, giving her a frightening glimpse into the near future.

She managed to purchase a few outfits that weren't completely hideous and escaped as quickly as possible. By that time, though, her stomach was growling, so she swung by the food court for a bite to eat. She'd just settled down with her salad when she heard a familiar voice.

"Sara?" Sofia approached her table, laden down with several shopping bags. Sara noted the pink and white stripes of Victoria's Secret and the navy blue of the GAP before she stopped looking. Her own bag from Mother's Little Helper sat in plain view next to her tray.

"Sofia. What are you doing…" Sara stopped. "Sorry. I was about to ask a very dumb question."

"I ended a relationship last week," Sofia told her. "It always puts me in the mood for a wardrobe update." With her eyes on Sara's bag, she continued. "Are congratulations in order?"

Sara gave her a tight smile. "Yes. Thank you."

"So…who's the lucky guy?"

Her smile faded. "I'm sorry. I didn't hear that. Mall echo."

Sofia nodded. "Sure." Giving Sara a little nod, she backed up a step. "Have a good day, Sara."

Well, the time she'd had before everyone in Las Vegas law enforcement knew about the pregnancy had been nice. Too bad it would be over before the start of her shift.


Even though he had a good idea of the timeline of Sara's pregnancy, the milestones still managed to sneak up on him.

One day, while swabbing a sink drain, Grissom happened to glance over at Sara as she printed a window frame. She'd taken off her heavy jacket inside the house, the jacket that had thus far concealed the gentle swell of her belly.

This wasn't an extra five pounds on her slender frame. It was decidedly maternal. Proof that the baby was growing, thriving. Four months. According to the books and websites he'd read recently, the fetus was now about the size of an avocado and growing bigger every day. In fact, it shouldn't be too long until Sara felt it moving. If she hadn't already. She'd have no real reason to tell him if she had.

As it turned out, when it happened, he was the only other person in the room. Finding out by default…better than nothing, he supposed.

Another night, another crime scene, this time a strip club just off the old Strip. The main room had been cleared for him and Sara to process the shooting. They were working side by side, collecting broken glass when she suddenly stopped.

"Sara?" His concern went up a notch when she stood up and grabbed her lower belly. "Is something wrong? Are you in pain!"

"No. No, I'm fine. Grissom…" Her smile lit up her entire face. "It moved. I…I felt it move!"

Grissom got to his feet, unsure of what to say or do. "If you need a minute, we can take a short…"

She must have been caught up in the moment because she cut him off by seizing his hand and placing it on her bulge. "Right there. Can you feel it?"

He really wanted to, but all he could feel was the warmth of her body through her clothes. He'd touched her hands, both of her arms, her upper and lower back and even felt her breast against his shoulder one time when she got a little too close for comfort. But he'd never touched her like this. This was a touch reserved for a lover, or at the very least, a close friend. Did that mean that she still considered him a friend? That at least he hadn't pushed her too far away?

Disappointment flooded him a second later. "I don't feel anything," Grissom was forced to admit.

Sara shook her head. "It was just a flutter. And it's stopped." But he hadn't stopped cupping her belly. They both realized it at the same time and for the briefest of seconds, their eyes met.

Grissom withdrew his hand like he'd been touching a flame. "Um…the offer of a break still stands."

"It's okay." She pulled off her gloves and dug into her kit for a fresh pair. She moved so fast that he didn't even notice her fingers trembling. "Let's keep going."

His hand was still warm as he copied her motions.


Catherine had always wondered if Sara actually had an apartment. With as many hours as she put in every week, it almost made sense to assume she just slept and showered at work. So when she got a frantic call from the younger woman asking her to drop everything and come to her place, Catherine was a little relieved to know Sara's baby wouldn't be raised in the lab.

Sara answered the door a little sweaty, a lot rumpled and on the verge of tears. "I can't put together a crib." She gestured Catherine inside and continued, "I can do complex mathematics in my head. I can analyze tire treads, blood spatter, bullet tracks. I can take apart and reassemble an entire car. But I cannot put together a goddamn piece of nursery furniture!"

"Okay, take a breath." Catherine waited until Sara had obligingly sucked in a lungful of air and slowly expelled it. "What you really cannot do is stress yourself out this much. It's so very bad for the baby. You might as well just chug back a few shots of tequila while you're at it."

Nodding, Sara took another breath. "It's just…I followed the instructions. To the letter. And I ended up with the surrealist's answer to wood sculpting." She led Catherine back to the spare bedroom which she'd recently given a fresh coat of mint green paint in preparation for its conversion into the nursery, and pointed to the jumble of white slats and screws that should have been a crib.

"And you thought to call me? Gee, I'm touched."

"I needed to make sure that a woman could actually do this. That the stupid instructions weren't written in some Man code, designed to punish single women for procreating outside the confines of a so-called traditional relationship."

Catherine had to laugh. "Let me see them. I learned to speak Man at my old job."

Pushing hair out of her eyes, Sara retrieved the crumpled paper. "I got a little frustrated with it," she explained as Catherine smoothed it out.

While Catherine alternated between reading and examining the product of her efforts, Sara rubbed her hand in lazy circles over her belly. Every now and then she would stop and smile. Catherine knew that look; it only came from the miraculous feeling of the life inside of you moving.

"I think I see what the problem is," she eventually said. "And good news…it shouldn't even be too hard to fix it."

Twenty minutes later, the sides of the crib were properly assembled. All they needed to do was connect the pieces.

"You're getting a head start on all of this," Catherine noted. "I swear, Lindsey didn't have a crib until the week she was born."

"I wanted to get the heavy stuff out of the way early on," Sara explained. "Before I get too big to do anything but sit on the couch like a beached whale."

"If you don't mind me asking…why isn't the baby's father helping you with some of this? It takes two, after all."

Sara stopped halfway through rotating a screw into place. "Are you sure?"

Catherine frowned. "What does that mean?"

"It means, thanks for your inquiry, but can we not? I still have a changing table that won't put itself together."

"You can't fault people for being curious, Sara."

"I can't?"

She sighed. "Maybe you can. But you can't expect to pull a Murphy Brown without raising a few eyebrows."

"If I'm really the best piece of gossip going, there must be a serious drought in drama." Sara stepped away from the crib and examined it with a critical eye. "It looks great," she finally said. "I guess I was stressing a little bit. But I'm fine now. Stress-free."

The older woman glanced at her. "Still, I should probably stick around and help with that changing table, don't you think?"

Sara gave her a small, grateful smile. "If you wanted to, I wouldn't mind."


"Sara, have you seen the DNA results for…"

"Shh." Greg silenced Grissom as his boss walked into the break room several weeks later, his nose buried in a case folder. He pointed to the small couch where Sara lay, as comfortable as she could be with her now-prominent stomach. "She went out like a light a few minutes ago."

Grissom set down his file. It was only the second time Sara had fallen asleep while on duty, but he knew her well enough to know that she never would have let herself if she hadn't been thoroughly exhausted.

Her face was relaxed, free for the moment of the faint lines her years on the job had imprinted upon her. Pregnant women were known for their glow, and Sara was no exception. As her stomach expanded, her body had become softer, curvier, no longer so lean and angular.

She still took his breath away.

Greg walked to the door with his coffee. "I say let her be. She's sleeping for two."

Grissom tore his eyes away from Sara long enough to give Greg a look before he left. He returned his attention to the sleeping woman. Her shirt was flimsy; he wondered if there was a blanket anywhere that he could put over her to keep her warm.

His gaze trailed down to her stomach. At almost six months, there was no mistaking the bulge now for anything other than a baby. Had Sara learned its sex? Was she already starting to put together a nursery? Was the baby's father helping her paint walls, hang curtains, assemble furniture? Did he remind her daily that she was still beautiful, attractive, desirable? Did he…

Sara shifted slightly as if searching for a better position. Grissom blinked out of his reverie only seconds before the swing shift receptionist came over the intercom system.

"CSI Sidle, you have a visitor at the front desk."

He waited to see if the noise would wake her. It didn't. Gathering his case file, Grissom left the break room and closed the door behind him, determined that she wouldn't be disturbed.

It was something more than mere curiosity that prompted him to walk to the front desk. Was it protectiveness? That was a safe emotion for a supervisor to have for a member of his team. Anything more would have been unprofessional.

But it wasn't a desire to protect a co-worker that came over him when he saw Hank standing there, waiting. It was something much more malevolent.

Hank noticed that he was being watched a few moments later. "Mr. Grissom," he said in greeting. "Is Sara around?"

He hadn't punched someone in the eye since grade school, but it was never too late when the action was justified. "She's busy, Hank," Grissom lied.

The young EMT nodded. "Okay." He paused. "I just needed to talk to her and she's not…"

Grissom slipped his hands into his pockets just in case he lost the battle with his common sense and actually did deck the man. "Perhaps this impromptu conversation with Sara should take place at another time. And another place."

"Oh, I get it." Hank snorted softly. "When she's here, she's yours, right?" He shook his head. "Well, guess what? It's not just here, man."

"Hank." Grissom gestured towards the exit.

He seemed to get the hint. "When you see Sara, tell her to give me a call."

Walking back to the break room, Grissom found himself in a moral quandary. To tell or not to tell.

On the one hand, helping put Hank and Sara in touch made his stomach crawl. He had taken her away, used her and discarded her three years earlier. And now he was back for a second round, only this time, he'd also left her pregnant.

But therein lay the quandary. She was carrying the man's baby and despite whatever problems they were having, the man at least was entitled be part of it all. And Sara deserved the support of her baby's father during the next few months. Who was he to stand in the way of that for his own selfish purposes?

Sara was already halfway awake when he pulled up a chair to the break room couch. "Grissom," she murmured, opening her eyes. Suddenly realizing she was lying down, Sara tried to sit up, but her stomach prevented her from moving very much. "Oh, god…I fell asleep again. I am so sorry; I didn't mean to…"

"Sara, relax. It's all right." Grissom paused. "I have to tell you…Hank Peddigrew was here a minute ago, looking for you. He asked that you give him a call."

She gave up her struggle to rise and let herself sink back into the cushions. "Oh. Well…thanks for letting me know."

Technically, he'd done what he was asked to do and he really wasn't required to do or say anything further. How was it that the one time he didn't need to speak, he couldn't keep the words from coming out?

"Sara, awhile back, I had another co-worker, a friend, who was pregnant and having trouble with the baby's father. She wanted my advice...and yes, I wondered what she was thinking, too. But I told her…to think about her baby. When it's all said and done, isn't that the most important thing?"

"Grissom…" Sara's face paled. "Excuse me!" Heaving herself off of the couch, Sara ran for the bathroom door.

He might not have been much of a people person, but Grissom understood enough about human behavior to know that there was something more to this story than anyone was being told.


To Be Continued