A/N: Sara and Grissom are returning to Vegas in the fall of 2021!

Return to Vegas

Chapter 1

The late evening breeze lifted curtains and cooled the house; the high windows in the bathroom were set for ventilation and fog of a long shower dissipated in seconds.

Sara Grissom barely glanced at the large mirror as she toweled dried her hair, another white towel wrapped around her body from chest to above her knees. If she had cared to take a longer look in the mirror, she would have seen a face that had not aged much in ten years. A few lines at the corners of her mouth, a few at the sides of her eyes, but her mouth was the same, delicate and sensitive, with a quick, wide smile. Her dark eyes sparkled as she thought of plans she'd made earlier and a grin played along her lips causing her to appear ten years younger.

Her life, and that of her family, was quiet, comfortable, and enjoyable. Most of the day had been spent along a narrow, pebbly beach overlooked by the historic lighthouse a short way from their home. They had gone by boat, one of the panga-style skiffs belonging to the research group and traveled with three others.

As she and the children had examined tide pools and built stacks of small wet rocks, her husband and the three other researchers had examined the corpse of a small whale, so recently dead that its carcass was mostly intact except for bird activity. By now, their two children had little interest in looking at dead animals—it had become 'what daddy did' and they were much more interested in splashing in waves and digging in sand and building piles of rocks.

With her hair almost dry, Sara pulled a bundle of soft pink from a drawer; her face lit up with a smile as she adjusted the diaphanous fabric over her shoulders. Another quick search and she slipped her feet into pink panties, sliding them up her long legs. Her fingers adjusted the slim waistband before she looked in the mirror—this time long enough to give general approval to the reflected image.

The book-lined room where Gil Grissom sat in a pool of light was his place to pursue academic and scientific interests; papers and books were stacked on the desk, a number of journals with colorful post-it-notes stuck on pages were on the floor. Yet, even as he tried to keep the door closed, there were signs of others.

Along a shelf, a line of small cars in vivid colors, a yellow plastic spoon protruding from a child's book, a doll's shoe on the desk, was evidence that he shared this space with his children. He had just placed an orange block on one of the paper's he was reading to mark his place and did not seem to notice that it was a child's toy.

Finding the research paper he wanted, he opened the folder and began to read, switching back to the one with the orange block and reading several lines before he stopped to think. He held the orange block in his fingers and within a few minutes, his thoughts turned from the scientific research to the small object in his hand. And for a few moments, he reflected.

For years, he'd been a loner, if only because he was miserable in the company of most people. With few exceptions, he did not seek others, certainly not in friendship and when he had gathered a few people around him, he had enjoyed their company. At the time, he had not given much choice to how this group—his team—had come together; the good natured Nick Stokes, the unassuming Warrick Brown, the honesty of Jim Brass, the flashy force of Catherine Willows.

A smile played at his mouth. None of them had accomplished what the dark-haired brunette from San Francisco had done. Not only did she get inside his brain, she unlocked his emotions in ways he had yet to understand. Holding up his hand, he twisted the gold band on his finger as his smile broadened. A ring on his finger and a child's toy in his hand; he grunted in a way that was almost a laugh.

To his great surprise, he loved being a parent. Both had been astonished, speechless, when, after six weeks together, Sara was pregnant. It should not have been a surprise to either because they had physically separated only for meals and showers from the day of her arrival. And a few days after baby Anthony was born, Sara had made the suggestion to have a second.

His thoughts caused him to chuckle. Whatever he had expected, it wasn't what happened. He had an immediate recognition for his infant son; a curious exhausted euphoria of success that opened a place he'd never known existed. In the following days, through sleepless days and nights, with changes every day, from smiles and gurgles and unexplained crying, on the joyous occasion when baby Anthony slept all night, Gil Grissom became a father. His son, named after a grandfather the child would never know, wiggled and squirmed, laughed and cried, into Grissom's mind and body in such a way that he soon forgot what it was like to be childless.

Sixteen months later, their daughter Elizabeth had been born with an ear-piercing shriek that announced her arrival. Their lives had changed forever. From the moment he set eyes on his sister, Anthony adored his baby sister. He presented her every toy he had; he was the first to introduce her to visitors, as proud as a peacock of this new addition.

As they grew from infancy to toddlers to small children, both exhibited an intelligence that surprised their parents. Their attention span did not wander in the way the parents observed in other children—observed at the playground and then in structured playschool. They laughed, they learned from each other, and by the time the children were three and four years old, they had a simply understanding of the work their parents did.

Earlier in the day, the blue-eyed Elizabeth had crouched at the nose of a dead white shark and announced to all that the poor guy was dead. Her brother was hesitant, more cautious, but agreed with her assessment from several feet away.

His finger swirled his ring as he stared at the small orange triangle shaped block, having no knowledge of what part of a toy it belonged to.

That's where Sara found him; tapping on the door to announced her arrival.

"Hey, what's happening in here?"

His eyes lifted and as he gazed at the sight of her, his tongue slowly licked his lips. This was happiness, he thought as immediate warmth spread along his spine to his groin—or maybe it was the other direction—his breathing seemed to stop.

She leaned against the door frame, raised an arm and beckoned to him with one finger. Her eyebrow arched; her lips formed an air kiss.

He was up, across the small room, his arms around her back; her arms around his neck. His mouth found hers, a welcome memory of delightful desire. With no memory of how they got there, they were in bed; her skin under his hands. He could feel her as part of him.

The up-thrusts of belly and breasts, of hips and long slim legs truly made for him, for pleasure between them. Her arms and legs were around him; his chin against her shoulder, his cheek next to her soft one. He was aware of a sound of his wife's orgasm, a pleasurable joy that he heard only in this act. For a moment, his mind reeled, slipped into blinding brightness that became an ecstasy of a familiar fate of rising on a tide. He did not want to let her go; in a way, the sharing of a bed after sex was more intimate than the preceding act.

A/N: End to Chapter 1 and more to come! Thank you for reading. Thank you for your comments!