A/N: Here's the last long chapter! We know we have changed some 'official procedures' but its a liberty taken for fiction! We decided to write this chapter after a certain event was announced-you'll see what we mean! Hope you enjoy it-thanks for reading! And let us hear from you!

Shopping for Sara

Chapter 15

Vegas in the spring

Sara flipped through a magazine on the table, fidgeted in her chair, sighed loudly to no one, finally got to her feet and paced across the small waiting area. She checked the clock on the wall—twenty minutes had passed since her husband had disappeared. Walking to the wall of windows, she pressed her hand against the glass.

"Huh!" She uttered in surprise at how her hand covered so much of the city to the west of where she stood. She spread her fingers and watched as the landscape changed with the movement of her hand—a simple exercise of mindless action.

Las Vegas was home now. It surprised her even after all this time that she had remained in the desert—left and returned—to make her home. After today, providing these final interviews were successful, they would be tied here, truly settling into a family life, promising to be here for the future.

Her work had changed—she was officially employed as a part-time crime investigator doing the same job that had brought her to Vegas years ago. Everyone knew the reason for her change; everyone, from Ecklie to the newest lab tech, voiced their support of this latest venture. Her fingers played a quiet tattoo on the window. She smiled; her husband, Dr. Gilbert Grissom, professor of forensic entomology, was enjoying his second career as a teacher and researcher at the local university. She smiled easily these days. He was home—at least most of the time. Occasionally, between semesters, for a few weeks in the summer, he would travel to the outer reaches of the globe on some exotic study of insects. She smiled again. She loved him no matter where he was.

The door behind her opened. "Sara" a female voice said, "Come back in!"

By the tone of the voice, Sara's smile spread across her face.

In a few minutes, culminating a year long journey, Sara and Gil Grissom were approved as foster parents.

"Now we wait," Grissom said as they left the building. Their fingers laced together.

"Thank you, Gil." Sara said as she leaned her head against his shoulder.

He opened the door of the car, keeping his hand on his wife as she settled back against the seat, and met her smile with his own. Impulsively, he leaned to her and placed a kiss on her forehead.

When he got in the driver's seat, she said, "I should go in to work. I promised Nick I'd finish up on the arson death."

"Sure you don't want to celebrate?"

Another smile swept across her face. "Not yet—we can have our own private celebration later."

Knowing what she meant, he covered her hand with his own. "I'll be there," he whispered.

After dropping her at the front door of the place he had spent so many years, he headed to the university, reflecting on the past two years.

Sara's mothering instinct had been evident for a decade as he remembered how she looked after, cared for and protected several of the younger lab employees, including Greg, with a tenderness and affection that still surprised him. She wanted to be a mother, yet unable to conceive, she watched silently as so many women had babies with ease.

Without her knowledge, he blamed himself—age, waiting so long to marry her, postponing what she wanted while he fulfilled his dreams. Then the realization she would never have his child—it had happened so gradually, yet within a few weeks their dream of a family had been ground to fine powder with an avalanche of medical testing and results. Even the possibility of in vitro and surrogacy became non-existent with the results of the final tests. Adoption efforts ended just as quickly. The tearful days that followed made him shiver in the bright Nevada sun.

Yet, Sara rebounded and with her bounce came his. He had been the first to suggest foster parenting and her eyes, shiny with sad tears, began to change.

"You would do that?" She asked.

"Certainly—we would be good—a stable home, a good dog." He pointed to his chest, "Both of us with a flexible schedule—we could take young kids."

He pulled into a parking lot reserved for faculty and sat in the car for a few minutes. The social worker had said they could receive a call at any time. A child might need a home for a few nights, a week, or several months, and occasionally, a young child could be adopted. His fingers removed the key; a foster adoption would be a good thing, he thought, as he stepped out of the car. Age was not an obstacle in the foster system—age of parents, he specified to himself.

Walking across campus, he breathed a deep breath of spring air. The part of campus he walked across was a rare place in Las Vegas—trees, real hardwoods, had been planted in a double line when the university was barely more than a building and a parking lot. And the trees had flourished, providing an avenue of shade as an oasis provided water. Several students greeted him as he crossed campus to his office.

Most of his insects and specimens from his former offices, at home and the lab, had found a second home in this new place. Students were fascinated by his collections—some older than the young people who stood in his office. He gave a two-fingered wave to the secretaries clustered in the central area, opened the door to his office, grabbed a stack of papers and books and headed to the research lab.

As he worked, he made a mental list—of course, Sara had a list of what needed to be done, but he still made his own. He sighed, lifted his head, and day dreamed. A child would be fortunate to have Sara as a mother. She had already taken their second bedroom and made it "gender neutral"—he had decided that meant painting with red, yellow and blue colors. The beds were made with new linens; new towels were in the bathroom. A child knows when things are second-hand, she said. Several stuffed toys were placed on each bed because every child, regardless of age, needed to hold onto something.

His eyes went back to his microscope but did not register what was on the slide. In the quietness of lab, he shook his head, not in disbelief, but in an effort to organize his thoughts. Ten years ago, if anyone had suggested, or if anything he had ever done had indicated he would be unable to father a child, he would have scoffed at the suggestion, disbelieving the improbable likelihood of infertility. He had never been promiscuous; he had made cautious decisions before taking a woman to bed, and for years, he and Sara had been so careful to avoid pregnancy.

His ironic laugh echoed in the empty lab. They had finally been able to laugh—about his virility, about lust and love, about their joint barrenness, about the years when it had not mattered—because their efforts to have a family had revealed a history, either forgotten or never known, for both.

Grissom had learned from his mother that he had contracted mumps at the age of thirteen—an illness he vaguely remembered, as she revealed first-hand knowledge of the fever, the swelling of his jaw but nothing else—nothing to indicate a severe infection which could have affected his fertility. Of course, the physician was quick to point to mumps as only one possibility for a sperm count that did not reach the lowest required number and those few were termed "slow swimmers".

Sara's medical history was sketchier than his. And reasons for her infertility even more vague than his—scars on one ovary indicated prior cysts, immature eggs from the other, and then "premature ovarian failure" or was it "unknown factors". What had happened to them was a story as old as Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebekah; yet they had been able to move forward. If biology stymied them, if age prevented the usual process of adoption, they would keep other's children by providing a safe place, a loving home, for awhile, and maybe—maybe the social worker's subtle suggestion of finding a child in need of a permanent home would happen.

Later, they did celebrate; they had learned to enjoy the small efforts and occurrences of every day with a happiness that would have surprised most of their friends. Grissom stepped into the bathroom as Sara was toweling her hair.

"You are beautiful!" He said, kissing her as he removed his shirt. "Naked and lovely," he kissed her again as he kicked off his pants and stepped into the shower.

Sara, towel wrapped around her body, examined her face in the mirror. She had never been one to give much thought to how she looked. Today, she ran a finger along her eyebrows, down her cheek to her chin. Because Grissom always said she was beautiful, she looked hard at herself in the glass seeing a face that was no longer a puzzled girl but a calm, comfortable woman with a few wrinkles across her forehead and more than a sprinkling of freckles across her nose.

She forgot about her face as she remembered the interview earlier in the day. For the first year of their marriage, both had been in a dream-denial phase, living in Costa Rica and Paris, spending so much time together—she smiled as she remembered the hours spent in bed—and no pregnancy. Her return to Vegas and her old job had been two-fold. At her age, she wanted, needed, to have her reproductive system checked out. As Catherine had said "Your clock is ticking, girl" without knowing the truth; Sara's clock had never really gotten to a full blown tick.

All the testing was over—had been over for months—and they were waiting for the next stage. Even if they got a child for a few weeks, they would make the best of that time, provide a brief interval of unrestricted love and companionship for a child. And maybe, possibly, a child who needed permanent parents would arrive in their home.

She had lost interest in her reflection yet she had remained in one place, leaning against the sink. When the shower door opened, she jerked back into real time just as her husband's head appeared.

"I didn't realize you were still out here," he said with an undisguised lustful chuckle.

Sara laughed. The lack of fecundity had not affected their desire for each other. She reached out, her hand raking through his damp hair.

Grissom brought his mouth to hers in a deep, scorching kiss. Warmth welled inside her, mingled with a sense of longing that brought tears to her eyes. Wet, naked, and quickly aroused, he tightened his arms around her.

"We should have showered together," he smiled against her cheek. "Saved water."

"I love you."

"Ah, my sweet Sara," he said as he pulled her towel off, using it to dry his face.

Sara felt the hard length of him pressing against her thigh; his desire filled her with a sense of strength, of unconcealed happiness. For a moment she was caught in a golden, glittering sensation as her neck arched, her eyes closed against the brightness of bathroom lights, and Grissom's lips began to kiss her just below her earlobe. But this was no dream, she reminded herself; this was very real.

With a mumbled incomprehensible exclamation, Grissom turned them both so they stumbled to the bed. Sara laughed softly and framed his face between her hands. She kissed him with a passion that always surprised him; her tongue surged into his mouth in an act of possession that presaged the more intimate one that would follow.

"I will never get enough of you," he whispered as he shifted to taste one nipple with his tongue before placing his ear against her chest.

For several minutes, they did not move as he listened to her heart. Then he began to kiss her, letting his hands play with her body, feeling his wife grow warm with desire.

Sara arched herself against him; her fingers pressed against his back as his palm closed over her triangle of softness. She was already damp. In seconds, his thumb parted her intimate folds, his finger found the opening to her core. Gently, he eased himself into her snug passage. He felt her tighten around him as his mouth came back to hers. Her arms wrapped him close, her legs gripped him.

The sensation of passion built; conscious thoughts disappeared. Sara's body tightened, lifted; her breathing came quickly. Just as she reached her climax, Grissom crushed his mouth against hers as she trembled and convulsed beneath him. Small tremors rippled through her body as he drove himself deeply into her as if he could become a part of her, and for a moment, he was.

…Weeks later, the call had come early in the day. "We have a baby who needs a temporary home."

Sara heard no more before saying "Yes."

"She has some complications…"

"We'll take her."

"She's—she's very small."

"We'll take her."

The social worker hesitated. "Sara, why don't you come in and meet her. There are some things you need to know."

"Tell us where to come."

The woman told her. "I'll meet you in the lobby—fourth floor. She's in the special care nursery."

They had prepared for an older child—a toddler, hopefully, yet expected a four or five year old—an adoptable infant was not the usual child placed with foster parents. Sara had clasped Grissom's hand in an iron grip the entire drive to the hospital.

They talked in spurts: "We don't have an infant car seat." "We don't have a crib." "We don't have her yet." "Special care—complications—what does that mean?" "The baby has to be a newborn." "We know nothing about an infant!" "We passed infant CPR."

Nervously, they finally laughed.

"Breathe deeply," Sara said with a laugh as they pulled into the parking garage.

Grissom hugged her once they were out of the car. "We'll figure this out—it may be for a few days, honey."

Clear eyed with a calm voice, she said, "I know—I think I'm still in shock—an infant, Gil!" She frowned quickly. "Do you think we can handle a diaper change?"

"Oh, yeah—can't be worse than decomp—or that wood-chipped body." He grinned. "Come on; let's go meet this baby girl."

The social worker and two other women met them in the lobby and after quick introductions, hand-washing and fitting into a disposable apron, they entered the quietly humming nursery, lights dimmed, walls and small cribs decorated in an attempt to create a less-institutionalized setting.

One of the nurses explained the mother's history, "She was dropped off by a trucker who insisted he had no knowledge of her other than picking her up the day before. History of meth use, but not positive when she was admitted."

Sara noticed a silent signal pass between nurse and social worker.

The nurse nodded. "The mother died shortly after delivery—there were multiple problems. Uncontrolled hypertension—full blown eclampsia, seizures when she arrived—nothing worked. A quick C-section," her hand pointed to a bassinet. "The physician initially thought blood clot, but the coroner has the body for final determination."

"How's the baby?" Grissom asked. "Can we see her?"

Everyone nodded. One of the nurses said, "She's doing really well, a bit underweight, but breathing on her own—she's a beautiful baby."

In the bassinet a little pink face with black curly hair as wispy as new feathers on a duckling showed above a yellow and white swaddling blanket. "We're calling her Anna Marie." The nurse said as she lifted the baby with practiced hands. "She's a week old today." Sara's hand shook as she reached for the baby. "In another week, she'll be ready to go home."

Sara's arms automatically extended as the nurse passed her the infant. The infant was no different from a thousand black haired, rosy babies, but Sara saw smooth honey-colored skin, a button nose, perfect pink lips, a miracle of beauty and biological engineering. Sara looked up to find Grissom's eyes and in that instant, she knew evolution was headed toward a greater good rather than random chaos.

The social worker spoke for the first time since entering the nursery. "We've put notices in a dozen newspapers that will run for six weeks just in case there are relatives. We are certain the mother gave a false name." Her eyes met Sara's. "We might get lucky."

Grissom's finger had lifted a curl of hair. The baby stirred and yawned. Sara made a soft sound of amazement.

"Anna Marie is a good name," he whispered in Sara's ear.

"She really is a good baby," one of the nurses said. "She's eating well, gaining weight, sleeps well." Someone sighed but neither Sara nor Grissom looked up.

The social worker spoke again. "She has a brother."

The two heads nearly touching immediately lifted. "A brother?" Grissom asked. They looked at the social worker and then at the nurse standing beside an infant incubator a few feet away. "Twins?" Both Grissoms said the word at the same time.

"Adam—he's not doing as well—he'll be here for several weeks, maybe more."

"Twins…" Sara whispered before recovering her voice. "You weren't going to separate them, were you?"

The social worker smiled, "No, I wanted to see if you were interested in Anna Marie, first. Adam will have to be here much longer—he needs someone to come in—rock him, give skin-to-skin contact. Let him know he belongs." Her eyes were hopeful. "Do you think you can manage both?"

Grissom spoke first, "We can do it." Without asking, he slipped hands under the bundle of humanity named Anna Marie and cradled her to his chest as naturally as the nurse had done. A slight tilt of his head moved Sara to the incubator where a dozen tubes and lines winded to a bank of machines beside and under the bassinet.

The nurse showed Sara how to place her hands into the incubator. This baby wore only a small diaper, the incubator keeping him warm, and around, between and under the lines stuck to his skin was a perfect face, smooth and relaxed; the same wispy feathers of dark hair covered his head. Sara's fingers gently touched the baby; his torso was no larger than her palm.

"He's so tiny," she whispered as she caressed the baby's head.

"You can hold him," the nurse said. "He just wasn't quite ready for the world."

After a rocking chair was placed near the incubator, the nurse wrapped the baby in a soft blanket, motioned for Sara to sit, and placed Adam in her arms.

"He's small, but he's tough and healthy as far as we know," the nurse said. "This is his heart monitor," her fingers lifted one of the tiny coils. She proceeded to explain the functions of each line attached to the small body.

The baby was warm in Sara's hands. Alive, she thought, a miracle. She heard a laugh and looked in the direction of the familiar sound. Her husband sat in a similar rocking chair, holding little Anna Marie, who was sucking from a small bottle.

Whispering loudly, he said "She's eating—drinking! I got her to eat!" A grin spread across his face. "I can do this!"

An hour later, they were sitting with the social worker who was explaining form after form before Sara and Grissom signed their name to each page. She had given them a thin booklet on infant exposure to illicit drugs after explaining what was known, and much that wasn't, about prenatal methamphetamine exposure.

"We are not sure how much drug exposure these babies had, but they need a quiet, peaceful place to thrive. A calm home, a lot of attention. That's why I thought of you."

Sara asked, "Do you think relatives—a father—will be found?"

The woman shook her head. "Unlikely. This year we've had forty-seven newborns abandoned at this hospital. Do you know how many parents have returned?" She made a circle with her thumb and index finger. "Do you know how many relatives have shown up to claim those babies?" She held up her hand again making the same sign. "Many are stuck in limbo; unknown effects of drug exposure keeps some potential parents away."

Before Sara or Grissom could think of another question, she pulled a thin file out of a drawer. "Sometimes life is subjective—we have to make impartial decisions as much as possible yet this is one of those cases that calls for presumption. I believe—as the nurses do who met you—that you are the parents these babies need." She pushed the file across the table. "This is everything we know about the birth mother. It's not much—we don't know who she was or where she came from, but I'd bet a paycheck no one's looking for her." She shook her head. "It's a pretty sad world when throw-away children have babies but you can turn things around." Quickly, she smiled. "I'm not supposed to say this because we have to give relatives six months to show up before adoption can be initiated, but I think you've got a good start on a family."

Doubling happiness…

Turning from the group of friends, Gil Grissom watched as the two women who had shaped his life circled the table doing what women did to a table before a meal. Sara had finally found the right table for the dining area—a large oval of recycled wood, smoothed to a warm luster and perfectly suited for their lives. His mother moved a high chair to the table and reached to take a squirming little girl from Sara.

The toddler giggled, showing pearly white teeth, as her grandmother placed her in the high chair. Anna Marie was a beautiful little girl; her black curls had grown into ringlets, her big aquamarine eyes were windows to a tranquil soul. She had dimples in her cheeks that turned into adorable little pits when she smiled, which was often and easy. If she had ever had a timid or fearful moment, no one remembered.

Sara slid another high chair to the table and motioned to Grissom who was holding Adam, his sister's twin by birth date only. The parentage puzzle of both children showed in the little boy with his dark beige skin, the way his brown eyes were set in their orbits, the absolute black of his straight glossy hair. He was more self-possessed than his sister in a two-year old way; he watched the adults around him and responded as they did, usually a few seconds later. His goal in life was to please everyone around him and problems that had plagued him for the first year of life had almost disappeared.

"Every thing is ready!" Sara called to the others.

Betty Grissom signed to the little boy in Grissom's arms causing him to giggle before he waved "yes" with a closed fist as an answer to her question.

It amazed Grissom how quickly the two babies had learned simple sign language before they could say words. His chuckle went unnoticed as everyone crowded around the table with Sara directing each one to a chair. In the ensuing chaos of people moving from one area to another, talking as they arrived at the table, Grissom thoughts went to the two children and his wife. Neither child shared DNA of the people they knew as parents yet they were his children, Sara's children, as much as any biological child. They had become the parents these babies needed; the smiles and temperament of the children reflected those of the adults around them.

The process of seating done, Grissom quickly took his chair. Greg, Nick, and Jim were there to celebrate Sara's birthday. Jim had brought cartons of ice cream; Greg and Nick had purchased a huge birthday cake and had spent several minutes adding candles to it with the help of the two year olds. Talk and signing between the friends slowed as food was passed.

Greg teased Adam when the toddler refused the offered eggplant. "It will make you grow tall like me!" The little boy shook his head, said "no" and signed the word at the same time.

Everyone laughed when Jim said "He's a genius—using three ways to say no! That's the way to go, kid!"

The energy at the table could light up half of the Strip as everyone tried to talk at once, someone was feeding something to one of the children, Sara was up more than down as she refilled glasses and brought more food to the table. And each time she passed her husband, her hand touched him in some way. She did the same with her two children.

Their four guests did not miss the looks that passed between the couple.

Near the end of the meal, as food disappeared and talk increased, Grissom tapped his fork against his glass to silence everyone—except for Anna Marie who proceeded to bang her fork in the same way.

"Birthday girl, remain seated, please!" He stood and reached behind several objects on the nearby shelves. "I know she said 'no presents' but that rule doesn't apply for me," he said, addressing the three men. He brought a small gift-wrapped box to the table and placed it in front of his wife.

"Gil!" She said with a laugh, happiness effervescing through her. "I have all I'll ever want."

He smirked a grin. "You didn't know you wanted this."

Carefully removing the silver and blue ribbons, she took time to separate the two colors and handed one strand to each of the babbling children. She opened the jewelry box and lifted a long gold coil. Attached to the delicate strand were three intricate gold bars enameled in bright colors. It took her a few seconds to comprehend the design—a blue sky, a meadow, a tiny butterfly, and lines of gold making stick figures, two very small and two larger ones.

"It's us!" She exclaimed, holding the pendants in her palm as she showed it to her mother-in-law.

Grissom took it from her hand and fastened it around her neck. "It is," he kissed her cheek. Sara's eyes glistened.

"It's beautiful, Gil." She knew it had been made especially for her; engraved on the back side were four names and birth dates.

There was a sudden return of noise as everyone talked at once; Betty brought the cake to the table as Nick and Greg cleared plates and bowls and brought clean ones to the table. The babies squealed with delight as Jim lit candles over Sara's protests of "too many".

After eating lots of cake and ice cream, the men insisted on cleaning the table and crowded into the kitchen to take charge of the dishwasher.

Betty signed, "We are so blessed" and hugged Sara before helping Adam from his high chair and letting him lead her to the living room where toys were quickly spilled onto the floor. Sara watched for a few minutes, still surprised by Betty's obvious love for the twins that began the first time she met them.

Turning, Sara lifted her daughter from her chair, hugged her, and raised her above her head. Anna Marie gurgled with laughter saying "Mommy" over and over as Sara made nonsense noises which caused the little girl to go limp with giggles.

Grissom stopped what he was doing in the kitchen and watched. One by one the other men did the same until Sara noticed them. Making a silly face, she put Anna Marie on the floor and directed the child toward her grandmother and brother. It did not bother her to see the looks of bewildered amusement on three faces; Grissom's expression was something else.

Hours later, Sara closed her eyes as Grissom placed quick kisses across her shoulder to the hollow of her throat, slipped an arm beneath her and pulled her to the place against him where she fit so well.

"Happy birthday, honey."

She smiled. "I feel like Dr Seuss, Gil. I hate to fall asleep because reality is so much better than my dreams."

He kissed her eyes, her lips, moved along her neck and down to take her breasts into his mouth, playing his tongue over each nipple, slowly, teasingly, while his hand, just as slowly and lightly, moved along the soft skin of her thigh.

Sara lay still, letting the waves of passion build within her, lifting her as if she were weightless, floating in a dream. They made love slowly, knowing the sounds and movements that long-time lovers know, laughing softly at secrets once learned and easily remembered. They pulled the sheet around them, wrapping together brought more aroused feelings, and, almost without moving, Grissom was inside Sara and they moved in harmony that was as familiar as their love.

"You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams." Dr. Seuss

A/N: Thank you to everyone-and especially to those who send us comments, reviews, and words of encouragement! We are not sure when the next story from 'Sarapals' will develop, but we are sure there is another story waiting! Again, thanks so much! Leave us a review-even if you've never written one before, you can now! :)