What if Grissom and Sara had a passionate affair in San Francisco in 1998 but broke up the following year and Sara never came to Vegas? Ten years later their life is turned upside down once again.

A/N: I thought I'd take a short break from the CSI snippets and let Grissom and Sara play on their own for a while before I go and mess with them again. This story is just an idea stuck in my head that I had to put into words. I wanted to try something different so this is all about angst and is going to be ten chapters long. Rating is M just to be safe for referrals to violence and adult situations but nothing graphic don't worry. I'm always more interested in relationships than in anything else. Abortion is a legal choice in this story as it should be in RL.

I'm grateful to the wonderful WalkerTRngr for her help and encouragement.

DNA Never Lies

As morning light crawled through the lab's windows, Grissom walked down the hall to grab the last of the files and wave everyone off. Tiredness was creeping up from his worn out knees but it was the sweet kind, one that comes after a good day's work. Everyone in the team delivered their best as usual and all evidence was properly documented and filed. This lab did its part speaking for the dead and it was on the rest of the cogwheels of the judicial system, police officers, lawyers, judges and jury to listen to them.

"Hey Grissom!" Nick called, popping his head out of the locker's room. "We are all going to Frank's for breakfast, you wanna come?"

It was the same bid every time, each time turned down politely by the supervisor who preferred his solitude but that didn't stop Nick from trying. Who knows, maybe someday even Gil Grissom would decide to come out of his shell.

But not today.

"Thanks but no. I'm just gonna finish with this," he said waving the files over his head "and go home."

"All right, if that's your way of having fun." Nick shrugged and vanished inside the lockers again.

With a snort of amusement Grissom headed for his office. He dropped the files on his desk, hit the CD player button with Schubert's Impromptu No. 3 at the piano and went to feed his pet tarantula. This was his favorite time of the day, just when everyone else made haste to go home back to their loved ones. All the hustle and bustle in the lab slowly died down to the murmur of machines until the guys from the morning shift eased their way in. He rounded his desk and picked up his reading glasses to start with the paperwork. This was admittedly no fun but the faster he went through it the faster he could go back to reading his book. Tempted, he took a glimpse at the book cover and title; The Nutshell Studies of Unexplained Death. Frances Glessner Lee's 18 miniature crime scenes built with the sole purpose of educating criminalists waited for him to delve into their engrossing details. With great difficulty he dragged his attention back to the pile of files demanding to be taken care of without delay. He huffed a sigh, pulled the first one from the top and started to read.

He was still in the middle of it when his office phone rang and startled him. Everyone knew well enough not to disturb him at this hour unless it was an emergency so whatever it was it must be urgent and he mentally prepared himself for a double shift as he took the call.

"Grissom."

"Dr. Gilbert Grissom?"

"Yes, who wants to know?"

"This is Melissa Lowe from the FBI CARD team. Can we talk, Dr. Grissom?"

"You can call me Grissom. CARD as in child abduction rapid deployment?"

"Exactly. We have a case needing our immediate attention and it looks like you are involved... Grissom."

"Involved how?"

"Our DNA database indicates that you have alleles in common with the missing child."

Grissom remained silent as the woman proceeded with caution.

"You share fifteen markers so you are definitely the father. Now we are informed you weren't aware of the fact and I'm sorry to break this out to you this way but we have no choice. Time is running out as you very well know in this line of work."

"Father?" Grissom drawled, incapable of uttering another word while his brain cells were on fire working synapses to uncover a logical explanation to all this, to bring back memories..."How old is the child?"

"He's nine," Melissa said and waited for him to work the math. She was an experienced agent and she'd come across cases like this before. Of course this man wasn't your typical ignorant father, he was Gil Grissom, the well known forensics entomologist and supervisor to one of the best CSI labs in the country but no one is immune to shock.

Nine. A boy. Grissom exhaled as his frustration built up. Was this even possible? He hadn't spoken to her since but they had agreed it was all over between them, so how...? But it had to be her, there was no one else at the time or any other time for that matter. Ten years ago there was this woman in his life and for a few dreamy months she was his whole world.

"His name is Silver," Melissa went on, "the mother confirmed paternity, a fellow CSI in San Francisco..."

"Sara" he chimed in and caught his breath with a shaking palm. He hadn't spoken her name aloud for such a long time it now sounded like a cry from inside a well.

"Miss Sidle says you haven't spoken to each other since um... the affair. Do you confirm?"

"I do," he huffed into the receiver.

Miss. So, she's not married. But she has a child. Their child. Somewhere miles away from the Silver State there lived a boy named Silver who was his son and he had no clue. He couldn't believe she had done this to him, leaving him in the dark for so long. Grissom feared he would crumble as everything sank in. He had a son and he was in danger. Feeling his pulse speeding up and his blood pressure rising, he pressed his lips tight to not let any curses slip out to the FBI agent at the other end of the line. His first priority was the boy so he cleared his throat and spoke in the firmest voice he could master.

"Tell me what you know Mrs. Lowe."

The woman, relieved that he had recovered from the blow in record time, proceeded to explain the details. With the mother and father both being experienced CSIs maybe this child had a chance.

"Call me Melissa."

The boy was falling asleep, tired after the long night drive and the giddiness from the sedative he was forced to put in his water. He looked more like his Jimmy with his hair gone and his face calm. Some blood had dried under his nose and his lip was swollen but he'd be alright. Boys needed discipline. They needed their father and that whore of a wife took his son away from him. He'd teach her a good lesson when he'd find her.

He was quite smug about the stunt he pulled. The hard part was over now, no one would find them here in the cabin. He just needed to stay low for a few days but he was prepared. All cupboards were stocked with supplies and as for the kid, he wasn't expecting any more trouble, not with the rifle in his hand and the dog watching.

He snickered at the thought of that CSI woman going crazy over losing her son, just wait till she found out who took him, that'd teach her not to mess with a Redstone. He'd been following them for a month now, getting familiar with their routine and the boy's interests . She'd be surprised to know how easy it was to lure him away from her. He couldn't believe it himself but a couple of baseball tickets and a smile on his baby face was all it took to get the kid to follow him. No wonder pedophiles got away so easily. Well, that was of course until they were caught and sent to jail where everyone had their turn on them.

Snorting, he moved to the door to make sure it was locked and then drew the curtain to take a peek at the sun rising behind the hill. There was not a living soul around and besides the dog would bark at anything that was near. Satisfied he lied down on the mattress and closed his eyes, gun in hand. Everything was going to plan.

TBC