February 28, 2002

            The sodium vapor lights hanging high above added to the white blue hue of the ice rink and brought out the gray at Grissom’s temple. It was more white than gray and Sara had been noticing it more of late, finding the characteristic extremely attractive on the man sitting next to her. Grissom was busy scanning over the hockey game highlights while Sara took in the ice arena from the rinks upper bleachers, the cold from the metal benches seeping past the barrier of her clothing.

            “Two minutes for elbowing. Four minutes for high sticking. Ten minutes unsportsman-like conduct,” Grissom read off, not at all impressed by what he was reading.

            Sara just shook her head in a mildly humorous resignation. “Boys will be boys,” she told him, glancing over at Grissom.

            Grissom flipped a page, scanning it for more information. “Yeah, sounds like these boys went to a fight and a hockey game broke out.”

            Sara gave him a smile. “You just don’t like sports,” she teased.

            Grissom glanced up at the ice before returning to the papers he had been given. “That’s not true. I’ve been a baseball fan my whole life.”

            Baseball! Sara’s gaze darted to the scar above his right eye. “That’s right,” she said softly. “All those stats.”

            “It’s a beautiful game.”

            Sara smirked, her gaze traveling to the ice rink. “Since when are you interested in beauty?”

            “Since I met you,” Grissom’s gaze remained steadfastly on the papers before him.

            Sara’s dark eyes cautiously took in Grissom’s profile. Something told her he was purposely avoiding eye contact with her, probably having blurted out the first thing that had popped into his head. Grissom was generally very careful with his words with her anymore but occasionally his self-censorship derailed and his mouth went off without first being overanalyzed by his brain.

            “So, we’ll start at the opposite goal, work our way across the blue line to center ice.” Grissom looked up at her, his expression blank as he waited for Sara to acknowledge his words.

            Realizing she was staring agape at him, Sara closed her mouth and nodded her head. “Sure,” she said following him down to the rink below, her mind racing backwards in time with each step.

 

            * * * * * * * * * *

September 4, 1995

            “I’m sooo sorry Gil,” Sara groaned for the hundredth time that afternoon.

            How had a day that had started out so wonderful turned into such a pile of crap? Sara wondered with groan as she watched Grissom circumvent the bar that separated the living room and kitchen of Ike and Katie’s guest house.

            “I’m fine, Sara,” Grissom said, opening the shiny, silver fridge and pulling out two cans of cola. “It’s no big deal. I probably wouldn’t have gone to the hospital if you had not been so insistent.”

            Sara’s sad, brown eyes took in his battered forehead and once again cursed her bad luck. Only she could ruin the most anticipated day she had had in ages. When Gil had let her know he was flying into town for the big Labor Day baseball showdown between the CSIs and the police detectives, Sara had at first wondered why but then decided she truly didn’t care. She hadn’t seen Grissom in three weeks and it was becoming a complete distraction.

            “Then you would have bled to death,” Sara lamented as she came to stand in front of him to take the cold, red can from his hand.

            Grissom chuckled as he took a seat on one of the cushioned, black barstools. “I promise I am not thrombocyte deficient in anyway and would have eventually clotted,” he explained before taking a drink from the can and setting it on the counter behind him.

            Sara huffed at him. It was beyond her how the man could just blow off the fact that she had sent him to the hospital- even if it was by accident.

            “How can you find this funny?” Sara threw up her hands in exasperation, “You’re lucky not to have a concussion or broken eye socket or-“

            “Sara,” Grissom reached out with both his hands and gently gripped Sara by her upper arms, effectively halting her list of possible injuries, “I don’t have a concussion, my eye socket is intact and it was just an accident.”

            “I know,” Sara groaned, her shoulders deflating in defeat. But she really did feel horrible.

            “DAMN IT!” Sara groaned again, spinning out of Grissom’s grip before pounding her fist in the back of a mocha colored suede couch. “I even went to the batting cages,” Sara proclaimed as if this statement explained everything.

            Grissom was at a loss and decided to let Sara have her moment. Scootching back to sit fully on the barstool, Grissom rested the balls of his feet on the chrome bar attached to the stools legs. Placing his right arm on the bar counter and his left hand on his hip, Grissom watched as Sara continued to beat up on the furniture.

            “Batting cages?” Grissom asked, deciding to save Ike and Katie’s guesthouse furniture.

            Sara looked up from the couch she was gently assaulting. Seeing the amused look on Grissom’s face, Sara pinched her lips together in an attempt not to smile. He truly did have the ability to disarm her with a simple look.

            “Yes,” Sara said, “batting cages.”

            Grissom reached out to take one of her hands and pulled her gently forward to stand in a light embrace. “Practicing your swing?” he asked with a hint of amusement that matched the mischievous glint in his blue eyes.

            Sara picked at Grissom’s collar, trying not to notice the dried blood on the front of his chest. The dark blue sleeved baseball shirt was probably a loss, which only added to her misery.

            “Ike said you loved baseball and that you were a pretty good baseball player,” Sara explained, forcing herself to concentrate on the conversation at hand. “I wanted to make a good impression.”

            Grissom gave her a lopsided grin as he gently tilted her chin up. “I’m sure that last hit was a double.”

            Sara snorted. “Yea, I hit the ball and then you.”

            Sara tortured herself as she remembered in glowing Technicolor the event that had led them from the ball field to the emergency room. As much as she didn’t want to recall the agonizing debacle, Sara knew it was laser-etched into her long term memory.

            She had stepped into the batter’s box with such carefree confidence that she almost wanted to pull a Babe Ruth and point towards the ball’s destination. Common sense and the fact that Sara wasn’t a show off had her simply twisting the toes of her tennis shoes into the fine sand. Choking up on the bat ever so slightly, Sara watched as Detective Tal Cason readied his pitch.

            In the bottom of the sixth the Braintastics were up by three. Amanda Toscano, the ballistics tech on days was leading off second. With two strikes and two balls, Sara began to lose some of that confidence. Stepping out of the batter’s box to take a few practice swings, Sara glanced behind her to see Grissom give her a reassuring wink.

            Sara could still remember the feel of the bat connecting with the ball as she swung for the fences. The adrenaline surged through her chest as she let lose the bat and ran for first. She could also remember the look of the first baseman as she approached and the feeling of impending doom. Crossing the base, Sara immediately turned to see what had caught the police sergeant’s attention.

            A crowd had formed at the fence where Grissom had been standing, waiting for his turn at bat. Sara couldn’t see him but she knew without knowing what was going on. Whether it was intuition, a bad vibe or just plain dread creeping under her skin, Sara quickly rushed over to the group of people gathered at the fence.

            Sara groaned as she recalled the blood running down the right side of Grissom’s face from the gash in his forehead just above his eye. Why didn’t I just drop the bat? Sara wondered. No, I had to catapult it into the face of my boyfriend!!

            Grissom chuckled and leaned forward to grab up her hand once again. “Sara, stop beating yourself up about this,” he  motioned towards his bandaged forehead. “It’s just a couple of stitches…look, I don’t even have a headache,” Grissom explained trying to convince her that it was a no-harm, no-foul situation.

            Sara’s shoulders slumped in pseudo-defeat. She knew it was an accident but still couldn’t quite forgive herself. Seeing this play out across her expressive face, Grissom pulled her close. Dropping his hands to her hips he confessed, “It’s not all your fault, you know?”

            Sara gave him a dubious frown but listened anyway.

            “If I hadn’t been trying so hard…” Grissom paused, searching for the right words.

            Sara cocked her head to one side leveling him with a curios gaze. “What?”

            “Let’s just say I would have seen the bat coming if I hadn’t been trying to avoid being caught checking the batter out…again,” Grissom confessed with a playful wink.

            Sara pinched her lips together and twisted them in an attempt to control the full blown smile that was fighting to be free. “You were checking me out?”

            Grissom arched his brows. It was an expression that neither confirmed nor denied her suspicions.

            Sara stepped between his bent knees, her arms slowly coming up to round his neck. “Answer the question Dr. Grissom. What were you…checking out?”

            “Avoiding,” Grissom corrected, his hands beginning to gently roam her hips and sides.

            “No, you stated you had been caught previously,” Sara countered in a provocative voice.

            Grissom hugged her tightly, laughter rumbling through his chest. “Have I ever told you what a challenge you are?”

            “No challenge here, Dr. Grissom,” Sara teased him, attempting to slip her palms inside the hem of his shirt. “I’m a sure thing.”

            Grissom grinned broadly as he snatched her wandering hands up. “None of that, my beauty,” he demanded before dropping a quick kiss on Sara’s forehead. “We have dinner reservations.”

            Sara wasn’t willing to give in quite that easy. Slipping her hands slowly down his well defined chest and abdomen, Sara gave Grissom a hot stare that dared him to stop her wandering hands. She wasn’t interested in dinner unless Grissom was on the menu.

            Grissom gave Sara a smirk. Taking her silent dare, Grissom leaned back against the bar, resting casually on his elbows. Sara’s grin grew. He was leaving himself wide open for her exploration. A bloom of liquid heat spread out from the apex of her thighs, causing an exciting flutter to go off in her lower belly.

            Slipping her hands up underneath Grissom’s shirt, Sara toyed with the flat plane of his abdomen, luxuriating in the feel of his warm, smooth skin. She spread her fingers wide in a wanton need to touch every beautiful inch of him as her hands crept slowing up his torso. When the bend of his arms hampered her ascent, Sara’s dark lust laden gaze challenged Grissom who had remained motionless.

            Without a word Grissom slowly leaned forward and raised his arms, his heated gaze never leaving Sara’s as she took her time to lift his shirt up over his head. Dropping the garment to the floor, Sara replaced her hands to his chest while Grissom resumed his casual pose.

            Sara pursed her lips. His pose might be laid back but the smoldering look in his blue eyes had the temperature in the room ramping up quickly. Sara could feel the tiny fires flaming up underneath her skin, causing her to flush sensually. The man could set fire to an iceberg with one of those hot looks, Sara thought as she upped the ante by twirling an index finger provocatively around one puckered nipple.

            Grissom’s Adam’s apple bobbed nervously but still he tried to maintain his bearing. Sara had to give him points for trying but he was going to lose this one, even if she had to fight unfair. Dancing her fingertips down along his stomach, Sara gave him a sultry wink and a smile when her hands came in contact with the baggy cargo shorts he was wearing. While her right hand worked the button free Sara’s left hand slowly ran the length of the prominent bulge at his crotch. Up and down and up and down she rubbed, causing Grissom to twist his lips in a vain attempt to keep hold of his control.

            “So hard,” Sara whispered, her voice like hot honey pouring across every excited inch of his skin. “Mmm,” she purred as she leaned forward, her warm lips taking in and suckling on one tantalizing earlobe. “I’ve got a major addiction for your hard cock, baby.”

            Grissom blinked rapidly, his hands flexing and relaxing and regular intervals. The slope was getting steeper and steeper and he was starting to slip fast but still he fought on. The challenge was issued and he was enjoying the fact that he was “up” for it.

            Sara gently pulled the flesh of his earlobe through her teeth before making her way along the tendons of his neck. Nipping and sucking her way down past his collarbone, Sara grinned against the warm skin of his chest, feeling the quickened pace of his breathing. He’s lost, Sara thought. He just doesn’t know how bad, yet.

            With her tongue circling one of Grissom’s nipples, Sara deftly passed the elastic band of his underwear and captured the hot velvet of his erections. Her fingers danced along his length until she reached the base before sliding smoothly up to the silky head and back again. The combination of her warm lips on his chest and her skillful hand pumping oh so slowly had a long sigh escaping Grissom’s lips.

            The last of Grissom’s resistance fell when Sara dipped her head down and slid his iron shaft between her warm, wet lips. The hiss of air he inhaled was quickly followed by an expelled groan of complete delight. Game, set match…checkmate, SCORE! Sara was the winner and Grissom was never so happy to falter in his life.

            The sensual slide of her tongue along his straining cock had Grissom’s head falling back, his eyes closing as waves of pleasure washed over him in time to her bobbing head. His fingers itched to bury themselves in her dark curls but he resisted, balling the digits up in two tightly held fists. Instead he dropped his chin to his chest and watched, mesmerized, as Sara sucked on his turgid length. The erotic sight of his cock appearing and disappearing between her pink, wet lips was almost Grissom’s undoing.

            “No more,” he gasped, pulling Sara to her feet. “I give. You win.”

            Hot sparks danced along every nerve in Sara’s body as Grissom slipped his tongue smoothly between her soft, moist lips to plunder the sweetness of her mouth. Their tongues caressed one another, dancing, sliding, tasting as their hands roamed eagerly.

            “Mmmyesss,” Sara sighed as Grissom ran his lips along her jaw to her ear before dipping to the supple skin of her neck, exploring it with tantalizingly soft butterfly kisses.

            Grissom ached with the need to feel her. Slipping the form fitting white t-shirt from the blue-green track shorts Sara had worn for the game, Grissom’s hands delved under the hem of the shirt, causing him to groan at the contact of her warm, supple skin. He mapped her body slowly, savoring it as his fingers and palms glided leisurely across the gentle swell of her hips before tracing the provocative dip and camber of her lower back.

            “God, I need you,” Grissom confessed hungrily.

            “Yes,” Sara gasped.

            Grissom stood up from the barstool, his hands capturing her face before his lips devoured hers. It was the kiss of a starving man seeking sustenance, his tongue careening and plundering her mouth. He was stroking her desire to a fever pitch and nearly had her igniting when he pulled her hips into his and ground his arousal against her center.

            Moaning, Sara broke away and pulled Grissom from the barstool. To the victor goes the spoils and Sara wasn’t about to spoil this by waiting one more moment. “Bed…now,” she demanded before squealing as Grissom snatched her up and began to walk with her towards the bedroom.

            The frenzied attack of his mouth along her neck had Sara’s head lolling to one side, her arms and legs entwined around his body, pulling him closer. It was becoming too hot, Sara thought as she panted. The air that raced in and out of her lungs was too hot, the blood coursing through her veins was too hot and her skin was surely on fire.

            “Gil!” She gasped, her back slamming up against the wall near the bedroom door.

            “Sara,” Grissom groaned, grinding her against the wall with erotic circular motions of his hips. “Too many clothes,” he panted, feverishly trying to pull her shirt over her head while pinning her to the wall with his pelvis.

            Sara agreed and frantically yanked her shirt above her head and tossed it across the wall before being whirled into the bedroom, her legs tightening around his waist reflexively. The bedroom door bounced loudly off the wall at their entrance but wasn’t even noticed as Grissom made their way to the bed, stumbling upon as their hands ripped clothes off in their desperate attempts to free of the materials confines.

            Within moments the two lay naked on the queen sized bed taking up the center of the darkened room. A gentle breeze blew in from the open windows nearby but did nothing to cool Grissom’s and Sara’s ardor. Like a nuclear reactor that heat was self perpetuating and had about the same half-life.

            The silver moonlight that danced playfully past the fluttering curtains caused the slick, heated sheen of their naked bodies to appear almost ethereal as they slowly, wordlessly melted into one. Their bodies undulating together in a rhythm as old as time.

            Sara’s fingers traced the firm muscles of Grissom’s back, relishing the feel of them bunching and stretching in time to their thrusting bodies. Mapping the strong bands downward until her hands roamed brazenly over his strongly pumping ass. Sara sighed at the heady sensation arching her back and driving her breasts upward as he hands added impetus to his driving hips.

            Sara moaned as Grissom bent his head and took one straining nipple in his mouth, gentling kneading the excited flesh with his teeth. Sara was a red hot ball of want and need as she grasped Grissom’s hips tighter and met his thrust with greater force. He could have his marathon sex later. Sara would gladly and energetically participate but at that moment she was dying a thousand deaths as the white hot fire of her release teased her from the edge of her sanity.

            “Gil, oh god, Gil, please,” she begged from beneath him.

            Grissom could hear the desperation in Sara’s voice, his desire leaping towards a flashpoint that would surely take them both out. With an answering groan, Grissom reached down and wove his arms under Sara’s lower back tilting her pelvis forward so that with each driving thrust of his hips, his burning iron cock would press slickly across her clit.

            Sara was certain she would go up in flames. The red flush of her skin crept up from her chest, along her neck to her cheeks. Tiny, gaspy sounds escaped past her parted lips with each delicious plunge of Grissom’s body, her hands gripping his shoulders tightly in preparation of the earth-shattering event gathering on Sara’s horizon.

            “Oh, god, Sara,” Grissom grunted, feeling the power of his own pleasure swelling past his ability to control it. “Honey, please, please.”

            The jerking of his cock as Grissom’s orgasm overtook him had Sara coming violently, her inner walls greedily milky his hot juices from him. There was stardust sparkling behind Sara’s tightly closed eyelids and she desperately heaved much needed air in out of her lungs. She could almost swear she heard the tingling of crystals as each tiny star slowly dwindled away.

            Grissom had been unable to keep his weight from Sara and had collapsed upon her, burying his face in the crook of her neck. Softly kissing her neck, his tongue lazily darting out to taste her salty skin, Grissom finally tried to alleviate Sara of some of his weight as he rested upon his elbows.

            “Are you okay?” He asked, raising his head from her neck and seeking her face.

            It took Sara a moment to access the part of her brain that utilized speech, nodding before she said, “Yes…better than okay.”

            Grissom smiled at her, smoothing at wild, sweaty strand of dark hair plastered to her forehead. He didn’t want to part from her right away. Feeling a need to hold on to the physical connection for as long as possible, Grissom rolled onto his back, taking Sara with him. With a contented sigh, the two sated lovers slept. 

            * * * * * * * * * *

February 28, 2002

            Sometimes the things that turned out to be viable and useful evidence in a case were the least expected and in Sara’s estimation the most disgusting. It was just a simple fact that bodily secretions were very telling, decomps smelled atrociously and killers loved to throw away evidence of their crimes, making the garbage dump a prime scouring location for evidence.

            The fact that Grissom had secured a portion of Jane Gallagher’s vomit did not surprise Sara. The fact that it actually was worth securing did. The thought that the female hockey player’s stomach contents were a vital clue never even crossed Sara’s mind. When Greg told her and Grissom that the woman was pregnant, Sara filed the whole incident under important but disgusting in her mind.

            “She wasn’t showing. She’s as skinny as a rail. But…still, why lie about it?” Sara asked the two men in the lab with her.

            Grissom cocked his head to one side, glancing one more time at the readout Greg had handed to him before giving it back to the lab tech. “Maybe she didn’t know she was pregnant,” Grissom answered, barely making eye contact with Sara. “If she had, would she have gone out on the ice?”

            A tiny, ice cold shiver ran the length of Sara’s spine before piercing her heart. Crossing her arms across her chest, Sara tried not to notice the way Grissom kept his attention on Greg, his eyes barely glancing in her direction even though he was answering her query. His impassive countenance made his handsome face appear chiseled in stone which only added to Sara’s discomfort.

            Trying to get her mind to focus on the case, Sara mentally shook herself before speculating aloud, “I wonder if she would know who the father is…was?”

            A few minutes later Sara found herself riding along side Grissom to Terry Rivers’ apartment. The stock broker-hockey player-turned victim’s abode was rather austere. Sort of like Grissom’s place only less classy. For one, Grissom would never allow an unkempt bed. Sara had teased him once about his near pathological need to have his bed made. But that was another life.

            “What?” Grissom had asked as he helped her bag the rumpled bed linens.

            Sara had looked up from the evidence sticker she was writing on, the black sharpie poised in mid air. “What?” she asked, startled by the broken silence that had hung with them since leaving the lab.

            “You sighed,” Grissom answered, his blue eyes flitting between her stalled hands and her face.

            Sara hadn’t been aware of sighing but she must have if Grissom was questioning her on it. What could she say? Did she tell him the truth? Tell him how in quiet times when her mind wondered it inevitably traveled back to “That” time, the time when she had known true happiness and true sorrow? What would he say? Sara wondered but couldn’t bring herself to see.

            “I should have slept more on my days off instead of canoeing out at Lake Mead,” Sara answered.

            It wasn’t really a lie. She should have gotten more rest after maxing out her overtime once again but it always seemed easier to stay in near perpetual exhaustion. It gave her mind less time to journey into areas that it was best not to go.

            Grissom watched her, seeming to contemplate her answer before giving her a hesitant nod and returning to the job of collecting evidence.

            Sara watched him briefly. Wondering, waiting. Why is it becoming so hard? Sara questioned, hating the feel of the ever-creeping distance between her and Grissom. They had worked so hard to find common friendly ground after their marriage had disintegrated. Why were they falling back into uncomfortable pauses and excruciating silences? There was a time when the pauses were happy and the silences serene as Sara recalled.

            “I’ll check the bathroom,” Sara told him, placing the evidence she had labeled near her kit. “Then we can check out Jane Gallagher’s place.”

            “Alright,” Grissom said, a sadness seeping across his face as she disappeared into the other room.

            * * * * * * * * * *

November 6, 1995

            Sara was exhausted by the time she had made it to Grissom’s townhouse, having taken the redeye out of San Francisco to Las Vegas. She knew he would be at work when she arrived but had not anticipated how nervous she would be as she sat in his home waiting for him. By noon Sara had come to realize he must be caught up in a double or worse, a hazard of the job she was well aware of.

            Deciding to make herself at home, Sara had made herself a light lunch in the hopes of staving of the weariness that had descended on her. An hour later she had decided not to fight her fatigue any longer and had made her way upstairs to Grissom’s room. Sara had slept in the big bed a dozen times in the past five months and readily admitted she enjoyed it far more than her economy double back at her apartment.

            Slipping into the big, comfortable bed, Sara’s tired mind went back to worrying about what she had come to Vegas to tell Grissom. Since they had started seeing one another, they had alternated weekend visits and it had worked out rather well. It didn’t make her miss him any less during the days they were apart but she was happy that their long distance relationship was going so well.

            Grissom had called her the night before and had miserably informed her he wouldn’t be able to make it to San Francisco, having been volunteered to help cover a shortage on the swingshift Saturday afternoon. Sara’s disappointment had been profound. She had been eager to see him since he had been in Virginia for two weeks prior.

            “I’m sorry, honey,” he had apologized earnestly.

            Sara had known it wasn’t his fault but she couldn’t help the feelings of rejection. They needed to talk and it wasn’t something Sara felt comfortable about discussing over the phone.

            “I understand…I do,” she had replied trying to infuse a lightness in her voice she did not feel.

            “I’ll talk to Jim,” Grissom went on, “see if I can cash in a favor or two and get a long weekend next week.”

            The idea of waiting another week did not sit well with Sara but she had agreed before they had fallen into a conversation about his time at Quantico. The excitement and joy in his voice had quickly whittled away at her frustration       only to return after she sat alone in her apartment once more. It was only after talking to, Ike, and pulling in a favor or two of her own that Sara had quickly packed a weekend bag and made a reservation for a 2 a.m. flight to Las Vegas.

            The moment her head hit the pillows, Sara’s restless, worried mind began to scatter. She had had two and a half weeks to fret over this meeting. A hundred different scenarios had played out in her mind. Now that Sara was in Vegas she knew anything could happen. Succumbing to sleep her last thought was of Grissom and wondering how he would take her news.

            * * * * * * * * * *

            March 1, 2002

            In the well lit and sterile environment of Room 1-C of the CSI Laboratory, Grissom and Sara examined the lavender bed sheets that they had collected at Jane Gallagher’s apartment. Sara was actually momentarily thrown off by the very womanly bedroom that she and Grissom had walked into when they had arrived at Jane’s apartment.

            Teddy Bears, knick-knacks and throw pillows decorated the room. It was like an ode to Jane’s softer side. Everything else seemed rough and tumbled, down to earth but her bedroom was soft and frilly and Sara could well imagine the tough as nails Jane Gallagher actually being embarrassed by this hidden side of herself.

            “Well, Jane may play hockey, but her sheets are decidedly feminine.” Grissom mused as he examined the sheets.

            Sara passed the ALS over the fitted sheet she was examining the telltale sign of semen glowing white under the light source. “There are semen stains everywhere,” she told Grissom. “Not very Victoria Secret.”

            Grissom his head still bent over the matching sheet he was inspecting asked, “What is Victoria’s secret, I wonder?”

            It was one of those abstract questions that didn’t require an answer but Sara felt she knew the answer. “Beauty, Grissom. Remember?”

            Grissom looked up, his gaze slightly wary as he searched Sara’s face. Was she being clever with him or was that the secret? Did women already know the secret and Sara was just letting him in on the know? Or was she hinting at his slip up earlier, while they sat in the bleachers of the hockey arena? Damn! She can completely obliterate me, Grissom thought, annoyed at himself for his lack of control. She gets in my mind, my dreams…under my skin, makes me blurt out things I shouldn’t!

            Sara took off her goggles as she returned Grissom’s gaze, her expression held a hint of playfulness but was otherwise not very revealing. Grissom blinked rapidly in confusion, trying to shake the feeling that he was a page behind Sara and losing ground. The sound of something light hitting the illuminated table cut through his bewilderment as his eyes fell on a jagged piece of human toenail.

            “Sheets may be female but this toenail belonged to a man,” Grissom said, examining the small piece of evidence.

            Sara gave a little shake of her head. “With all the sex these people are having maybe I should take up hockey.”

            Grissom’s head snapped up, his startled blue eyes bordering on incredulous. Please, don’t say that, Grissom mentally begged already fighting the lurid visions of Sara popping up in his head. God! Don’t say that!

            Sara didn’t know why she had said it but the anxious look on Grissom’s face had her giving a small smile that bordered on the apologetic. Poor guy looks like he’s about ready to bolt, Sara thought with equal measures of sympathy and amusement. She wasn’t a stranger to the feelings that were surely racing through Grissom.

            * * * * * * * * * *

            November 7, 1995

            “Marry me.”

            Sara’s mouth hung open as she blinked repeatedly. The analogy of a deer in headlights came to mind but Grissom had to concede it was less fear and more of a stunned disbelief he saw in her eyes. He might have found her reaction humorous if he wasn’t certain that it had mirrored his own reaction moments earlier..

            Grissom had been pleasantly surprised to come home after an exasperating double shift to find Sara sleeping in his bed. His first clue that she was there was her coat slung over the leather chair nearest his front door. A smile crept across his face as he ran his hand along the course wool garment, his eyes searching the expansive rooms of the lower floor of his town home.

            “Sara,” he called out while heading towards the stairs that led to the second floor. The realization that Sara was not to be found on the first floor had Grissom taking the steps two at a time as he eagerly sought his unexpected visitor.

            Stepping through the open door of his bedroom, Grissom had been greeted with one of his most treasured sights, Sara sleeping. He never considered himself to have an addictive personality but Sara had become his addiction and if he was honest with himself it had been that way from the moment he had met her. She was always on his mind in some capacity and at first he had found it disconcerting but it had come to feel right and natural to him.

            Grissom had knelt down next to her, a gentle smile playing across his face as he had watched her. Unable to resist brushing the dark, wavy lock from her face, he had reached out and gently smoothed the wayward hair back along her temple. He had not intended to wake her but couldn’t deny the joy he felt as her eyes had fluttered open to look at him.

            “Hi,” he had said softly, leaning in to give her a gentle kiss at her brow, “this is a nice surprise.”

            Sara’s reaction had gone from sleepy joy to gentle desperation. Reaching up she had wrapped her arms tightly around Grissom’s neck pulling him down in an anxious embrace. She had been unable to look into his beloved face with the heavy uncertainty that hung like a weight in her heart.

            Grissom had chuckled to hide the nervous flutter that had developed in his chest at her desperate hold. There was a slight tremble in her embrace that was beginning to frighten him and he was anxious to know what it was that had his daring Sara reduced to grasping at his neck and hiding her face.

            “Hey,” he had said softly, pulling gently away so that he could search her teary brown eyes, “what is it?”

            Sara had tried to pull him back for another embrace but when Grissom had resisted, Sara had pled softly. Grissom had not known what was bothering her but he could not refuse her. “Honey, please,” he had begged, the cold edge of fear slicing through his belly as he gathered her against his chest and rocked her softly.

            “I’m so sorry, Gil,” Sara had sobbed. “So sorry, it’s my fault, all my fault.”

            Grissom had taken her face gently in his hands, his thumbs tenderly wiping through her tears. “Sara, please…tell me what’s wrong.”

            She had begun to frighten him. His unflappable, charge the battlements Sara was scared. He had never seen her fearful. She was always so sure of everything and even when she wasn’t Sara had made him believe enough in the possibility that, together they had conquered whatever doubts had reared its ugly head.

            Grissom had swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat as he waited for Sara. An ice cold cramp twisting in his belly.

            Sara had hesitated, attempting to pull her scattered thoughts and frayed emotions together. “You, you have to believe me that I didn’t mean this…I mean, it wasn’t my intention, I’m not trying, I didn’t mean…” a deep shuddering sigh escaped her as fresh tears and sobs had threatened to escape her once more. “I’m pregnant. I don’t know how it happened…I mean, I do but I was on the pill, Gil, I swear, I would never try and trick you, I-“

            Grissom had placed tentative fingers across her trembling lips, his mind shattered, unable to think. Sara’s words repeating over and over in his fragmented brain as he tried to make sense of what was happening.

            “Pregnant?”

            “Yes, Gil, I…I double checked with my gynecologist,” Sara had explained as she hiccupped every couple of words.

            “How far?” Grissom had blurted out, interrupting what Sara was about to say next.

            “How far along?”

            “Yes,” Grissom’s voice had held a desperate quality to it.

            Fresh tears had begun to escape the edges of her eyes. This had been the part she had dreaded the most. How would she make his understand that she had never been one of those lucky women that held to a 28 day cycle? That she was as erratic in menstrual cycle as she was in her sleeping cycle. Sara had hoped and even did a bit of praying that Grissom would understand that he would not look at her oversight as a deception.

            “Nine weeks,” she had told him, her voice small as she watched him with all the dread she felt in heart radiating through her eyes.

            Grissom had mentally calculated the time, his eyes widening as he realized the only time it could have happened. “The baseball game,” he had whispered, recalling the week he had spent in San Francisco.   

            “Marry me,” Grissom repeated, gently holding her beautiful face in his hands leaning in to give her a feather soft kiss.

            “Wha?” Sara sniffled, still mentally and emotionally beating herself up. “How can you…I, no, Gil this is my fault. I just, I didn’t want you to find out through Katie or Ike. I can take-“

            “Sara,” Grissom interrupted taking both of her hands as he squatted down on his heels in front of her. “Are you claiming spontaneous conception status?”

            Sara frowned in confusion and shook her head slowly, not understanding what Grissom was getting at. She was trying to let him know she didn’t expect him to “do the right thing” by her, that she could take care of herself and somehow a baby. Because the minute she knew she was carrying Grissom’s child, Sara knew she could never even consider an abortion. The baby was a part of him and her and regardless of what happened between them, there would be proof of what they had been.

            “Alright…and since I wouldn’t even dare to assume the child is any other man’s but mine-“

            “God! Yes, Gil,” Sara squeezed his hands and stared him intently in the eye. “You know-“

            Grissom reached up and placed the fingers of his right hand softly against Sara’s lips, effectively quieting her. “Sara, I know the baby is mine,” he told her, his hand slipping back down to reclaim her unaccompanied hand and giving it a reassuring grasp. He sighed before giving her a lopsided grin. “I can’t say that I never thought about having children…but it was always one of those vague notions, something clouded in mist on the horizon.”

            Grissom stood up. He found he had too much energy to stay still for long. Running his right hand through his hair, he continued on. “The older I got the more murky, the more distant it became,” he explained, his eyes focused on some unknown point as he chased his thoughts out loud. “I resigned myself to the fact that it was just not meant for me.”

            Sara watched him. Her emotions were a cataclysmic storm of dread, apprehension, hope and guarded anticipation. She loved him too much to force him into anything he did not want. She was prepared to let him go, no matter how painful but she hoped, oh how she hoped, he would not want to be cut free.

            “Sara, you are young, I sometimes forget how young you are.” Grissom returned, kneeling down before her. “I can understand if this baby is not what you had planned for-“

            Sara began to shake her head fervidly. “No, no…no. Gil, I can’t, I…I’m keeping this baby,” she declared, the determined glint in her dark eyes brought a smile to Grissom’s face.

            “Good.”

            “Good?” Sara asked, barely daring to hope.

            Grissom nodded. “Yes, good,” he told her, dropping tiny kisses on the backs of each of her hands he grasped. “I may not have foreseen this, we may not have planned it but I’m happy, Sara.”

            Tears began to slip down Sara’s cheeks and for once she did not berate the silly notion of happy tears. “Really?”

            “God, yes, really,” Grissom smiled, standing he pulled her up and into his embrace. “I want to marry you and have a baby with you,” Grissom vowed. “I want to be woken up from a dead sleep by a ravenous baby. I want to change poopy diapers, curse faulty toy assembly directions on Christmas Eve, worry about the first day of kindergarten, teach our son how to shave or our daughter how to fish. But most of all I want to grow old and decrepit with you, sitting in a pair of rocking chairs looking at pictures of our baby through all the years.”

            Sara had given up trying not to cry and was in flow blown waterworks by the time Grissom stopped. Nodding energetically and throwing her arms around his neck, Sara said, “Yes, yes…yes.”

            Grissom pulled back slightly to look at her tear stained face. “Yes, you’ll marry me?”

            “Yes!”

            Sara sealed her declaration with a kiss her mouth claiming his fiercely, leaving no doubt as to her stance. Sara’s arms slid down from his neck, her hands grasping his muscular upper arms and gently tugging him towards her and the bed just behind her.

            “No,” Grissom said, pulling ever so slightly away from her. “None of that. I’m going to make an honest woman of you.”

            Grissom took her by the hand and with more fortitude than he thought possible for mortal man, he led her from the bedroom and the, oh, so inviting, bed.

            “Gil?” Sara gestured with her free hand at the room they were abandoning, obviously willing to put off their impending nuptials until a little later.

            Slipping her jacket on Sara, Grissom grabbed up the keys to his car before leading the way to the garage. “Don’t tempt me woman,” he demanded. “I’m a walking bundle of nervous energy and…” Grissom pulled Sara tightly to his chest as he prepared to open the passenger side door. “…a very distracting hard on.”

            Sara’s mildly startled gaze turned sultry as she leaned into him. “Let’s un-distract you then,” she whispered in her most tempting bedroom voice.

            Grissom kissed her hungrily. “Stop that!” he ordered, maneuvering Sara into the passenger seat. “First the ‘I dos’”

            Sara, feeling incredibly giddy and just a bit naughty, tried to snake her hand up underneath the hem of his shirt.

            Grissom grasped her hand and held it. “Patience, my dear, patience.”Grissom brought her traveling hand up and kissed her palm, his lips lingering before shutting the car door.

            Sara trembled, overwhelmed by joy, anticipation…love. Watching Grissom situate himself behind the wheel, Sara could not contain her smile. She had come to Vegas certain that things would not be the same for her and Gil. Although, she had not considered the idea that Grissom would abandon his responsibilities to his child she had feared he might resent her for the unexpected pregnancy. But she surely would not have believed she would be heading for a wedding chapel with the love of her life and counting the minutes until she could have him stripped naked as her husband.

            Life’s funny like that, sometimes, Sara thought, her heart soaring as Grissom made his way through the streets of Las Vegas. They would figure out all the other details later. They always did.