danceoftheheart

Follow the Leader Part XXIV, GSR, M

Mon, 04 Jan 2010 05:32:54 GMT

Title: Follow the Leader Part XXIV
Author: danceoftheheart
Rating: M
Spoilers: Anything up to currently Aired USA Season 8 is fair game.
Pairings: GSR
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or its characters. Please do not sue. I don't think either of us would enjoy the experience all that much.

A/N: This one takes place in the same little ‘universe’ as my Bed of Roses series. Gil and Sara are married and still working at the lab. Ecklie is Sara’s immediate supervisor and this case file happens somewhere between their first and second anniversaries.

Follow the Leader
Part XXIV

“Okay, well, someone’s going to have to catch us up,” I said, settling into the sofa beside Gil. I pulled at my cotton blouse trying to masque my confusion over what we’d just witnessed. “I’m afraid we arrived for the end of the fireworks.”

“Conrad said he couldn’t fill us in right now, but assuming one of you can, would you do the honors?” Gil asked, obviously as perplexed as I felt.

Jim nodded gruffly and cleared his throat. “There’s a lot of finger pointing going on, Gil. Even though the lab has had to take the official standpoint of ruling McKeen’s death a suicide, there are several parties who believe that it was anything but.”

“And none of those parties,” Catherine added, “agree on who might be behind the under-sheriff’s murder.”

“I need to take a look at that file, Catherine,” Gil muttered grimly.

“There’s a copy in the top drawer of your desk. Thought it best to play close to the vest if you get my meaning,” she replied and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Officially, that copy in your desk doesn’t exist, capiche?”

“Details, people,” I entreated them. “Don’t leave us hanging. Obviously we-” and I gestured between Gil and myself, “-are subjects under scrutiny. Who else?”

“Wait, before we go any farther, who’s pushing that angle?” Gil wanted to know.

“Murder? McKeen’s son,” Brass replied.

Gil considered this for a moment and then nodded. “Okay, I can see that. Did he bring in the FBI?”

“No,” Catherine said, “They’re here for a different reason but since they believe the entire department is corrupt, they’re certainly not in your corner.”

“Their interest remains primarily in McKeen Senior’s associations outside the lab and their possible infiltration into the main body of personnel.”

Brass’ words were weary. It was easy to see that this had been a very long shift for him and yet for all intents and purposes it had just started. My brain did a few mental connect the dots and I blurted, “They think he was involved in what-? Mob activities? Drug running?”

Brass nodded. “Prostitution. Extortion. You name it.” Our New Jersey implant laughed humorlessly. “Turns out our fearless leader had some friends in low places.”

I snorted. “Well, there you go. I knew there was a reason I didn’t like that man.”

“So where does this leave us, exactly?” Gil asked.

“The department and Ecklie are behind you guys. In other words, they believe that you are in the middle of a set-up though there are differing points of view as to the reason behind all of these crazy, after hours activities you’ve been involved in lately. “ Greg wiggled his eyebrows for effect. “Speaking of which, if you two could pull that stuff in a little, everyone here would be grateful for the respite. We do have other cases pending, you know.”

Gil grunted but I replied dryly, “We’ll do our best.”

“Internal Affairs seems more than willing to back you as well as long as nothing comes to light to make them change their minds.” Catherine shrugged. “But then what else would you expect?”

“Well, I walked in here expecting totally the opposite,” I said. “After all it was the stolen weapon…my original side arm…that was linked to the murder on the highway. I thought I’d be fighting off accusers left, right and centre.”

Greg leaned his elbows on his knees, steepling his hands. “You would have been had the under-sherriff not admitted to breaking into the evidence lock-up and various other crimes. That combined with the deliberate tampering to your vehicle, the serious run-ins you’ve both had…your reputations on the force…well, there’s just too many conflicting factors for anyone to dismiss the possibility of a set-up out of hand. The only evidence we have linking you to those deaths is so…so obvious...a greenie would take a second look without even thinking.”

“A lot of this has seemed…amateurish, hasn’t it?” I wanted to continue in that vein but my mind was still circling the field and refusing to land on any one spot. I settled for adding, “The minute we’re done here, I want to take a fresh look at the evidence logs. I wasn’t really…um…focused on it at the scene. Oh, and I want to see that file too, Gil.”

“We’ll make it priority,” Gil replied and went back to the previous topic. “The FBI?”

“Are out for blood. Anybody’s. They’re not that choosy,” Brass said.

“Why?”

“Seems they’ve been following McKeen for a while now. He is…was…their lynchpin in several ongoing investigations. They were getting ready to close in. Apparently there was a big meeting scheduled for several key personnel involved and they were depending on McKeen to lead them right to the big wigs. His death put a crimp in their plans.” Brass shrugged. “Whatcha gonna do?”

“And that’s where McKeen Jr fits in,” Catherine said. “While it’s true that he didn’t call in the FBI, he’s certainly quick to take advantage of their interest to muddy the waters."

“How’s that?” I asked.

Catherine sighed. “He’s here, or so he states, out of concern for his father’s reputation. He claims the suicide was murder and though he has more or less laid the blame at the hands of the mobsters the FBI have been watching, he’s not overlooking the fact that you two had a strong motive to take him out if you’d had the opportunity to cover up whatever it is you’re involved in.” She held up a hand as I began to protest. “His words, not mine, Sara. He says he’s determined to see that his father gets the proper burial and recognition the under-sheriff deserves after his many years of service to this city and that his name gets cleared completely from any and all accusations of wrong doing.”

“Okay, um, I’m not sure I’m getting this. Surely the FBI disputed his claims, right? I mean, they wouldn’t be here, butting in, unless they were pretty sure that they had his father dead to rights.” The convoluted wrapping of what was once a ‘simple’ murder was beginning to tie me in knots. I certainly had the feeling that I was standing on the sharp, slippery tip of a gigantic Iceberg, trying to keep my balance. Who knew what was waiting for us under the surface.

“Yes,” Catherine answered, “but he’s resolute in his belief that his father is being vilified here. He wants an independent investigation into his father’s death as well as an independent review of all of the evidence the FBI has collected with regard to his father’s case.”

I snorted. “Yeah, like that’s going to happen. The FBI can be rather inflexible when it comes to their files.”

“Well, now that you two are up to date, I have a lab to run.” Catherine eased off her chair and straightened her clothing. “Are you two attending the memorial?”

“Yes. Sara feels it’s important for us to be there.”

Jim nodded and rose. “I’ll second that. It might prove to be of some interest to us all.”

“I’m due in Trace,” Greg said, holding up his phone and displaying a text message from Hodges. “I’m attending the funeral as well. See you then if not before.”

Our trio of friends exited, leaving us alone in Gil’s office , each of us lost in our own thoughts. After a moment, I turned to look at Gil saying, “You know, maybe we’ve been coming at this backward."

“How’s that?” he asked.

“Well, we managed to figure out the connection between your two cases…the girls were related, we think the one sister was trying to use the video tape to either connect with or uncover her sister’s murderer. We’ve also connected the McKeens to the Wayburns but…okay, how do I explain this? Um, we haven’t really figured out why the McKeens were involved with the sisters in the first place. Do you see what I’m getting at?”

“Sort of,” Gil responded, “but go on.”

“I don’t know. I guess I’m curious as to how they met…how Deanna and Jeff Jr met and became engaged. Did they run in the same circles? Were their families long time friends? Did Jeff and Deanna attend the same schools? We’ve been examining this from the sisters’ point of view but now I’d like to look at it from the other end.” I cleared my throat and folded my arms. “I want to set up an interview with Jeff McKeen Jr.”

Gil was already shaking his head. “I don’t see how that’s really possible, Sara. I mean, there’s every possibility that he would refuse to see you on principle and I’m sure Ecklie and IA would have something to say about that type of a meeting.”

I could feel my forehead pinching into a frown. “Yes, I know. I already thought of that. Doesn’t stop me from wanting to try it to spite them.”

“I really don’t think that it’s a smart idea.”

He didn’t have to convince me. I knew it was a crazy idea but something in my gut told me that Jeff Jr was at the crux of this mess. “Just saying.” Yeah, maybe setting up a face to face was a bad idea but…if the opportunity presented itself…I might be able ‘bump’ into Jeff Jr during the memorial.

The rest of the shift was fairly routine. Gil and I spent time not only looking at the file Catherine had slipped us but catching up on the bits and pieces that were necessary in making a lab like ours run. While it was true that normally I found the process of completing paperwork soothing, that night I was just too restless to settle into it. I kept thinking about the connections between the various players we’d met in the course of this investigation and the position we now found ourselves in.

Gil and I were in a kind of waiting game. We weren’t in a position to make any decisions or move on with any of our plans until one of the other players made a move first, so for us it pretty much had to be business as usual. While it was true that the waiting lacked the desperate tension of the past week and a half it was no less threatening. We were at a virtual standstill…at least until new evidence presented itself. Catherine’s file contained little more information than we’d already gathered with regard to Deanna and Natalie’s murders though it did shed some light on the undersheriff’s ‘suicide. The confession had been printed off a unit that CSI had determined was offsite. Since that unit had yet to be located and the obvious places such as the McKeen’s residence, office and other such locations had been ruled out, it was a detail that was disturbing. Photographs of the body and the positioning of the gun post mortem had raised questions as to whether the resting spot of the weapon could have ended in the place it had been found. There was always the possibility that the weapon could have hit something on the way down or…bounced…but the team that had gone through the scene hadn’t been able to prove to their satisfaction that that was indeed what had happened. Doc Robbins’ initial medical exam differed slightly with the one he performed at the request of McKeen Jr two days later. Bruises and contusions had appeared in multiple places on the corpse, and while these markings weren’t conclusive evidence that the undersheriff had been assaulted immediately prior to his death, they didn’t rule that possibility out either. Suicide remained the official ruling in the matter of the undersheriff’s death but Doc Robbins had made a new entry of his latest finds and the possible implications of said findings should any other evidence come to light.
Needless to say, that report did little to help my concentration.

It was nearing four am when I caught sound of my name being mentioned from somewhere down the hall. I stirred from my reclined position and pulled my attention away from the study I’d been making of the minute hand on my wall clock and walked over to my door to see who it was that was asking for me. “Mrs. Wayburn? What are you doing here…at this hour?”

The woman in question turned away from the technician who’d been giving her directions and approached me directly before speaking. “Mrs. Grissom. I know, it’s strange my being here…but, I took a chance. I needed to see you and the desk said you worked the nightshift…” she drifted off, looking so lost for a moment that I had a hard time recognizing her as the woman we’d met with only a few short days ago. “Is there a place we could talk…privately?”

I jerked to attention, surprised I hadn’t offered before she’d asked. “Yes, of course. My office is just through here.” I led the way and offered her a seat, closing the door behind us. “Can I get you something? Coffee? Water?”

“No, no, I’m fine, really. I don’t want to take up too much of your time. I just-I just-didn’t know…” A tiny, gasping sob escaped her throat and I promptly snatched a couple of tissues from the box on my filing cabinet and pressed them into her hand.

“Take your time, “ I told her kindly, not really all that surprised by the display of emotion. She had had a difficult week. It was a wonder she was functionally rationally at all.

She shook her head, waving off my sympathy with some urgency and then leaned forward in her chair. “I needed to speak with you…to ask you…”

Again she paused, but I had a terrible feeling I knew where her words were leading. I decided the right thing to do would be to help her along. “You’re here about Mitchell.”

She nodded, her eyes tearing, unable to do more.

I reached a hand across my desk…I couldn’t help it…and did a mental sigh when she placed hers in my palm. “I’m sorry. I should have called you. I was in the hospital when I heard the news.” I didn’t elaborate farther. Until all of the details surrounding Mitchell’s death were sorted out, there was no need to add to her torment.

“No one will tell me anything, Mrs. Grissom. I’m not family…well, not by blood, but there is no one else. Mitchell didn’t have any close relations other than his half brother and they weren’t on the best of terms.”

I firmed my lips, knowing all too well how difficult it would have been for her to get any information on her employee’s death. “I’m afraid the matter is still under investigation. We were able to determine his identity and the cause of his death but we don’t know any concrete about the circumstances involved. But maybe, you could help with that. Do you know why Mitchell was out driving in that storm?”

Mrs. Wayburn sniffed and shook her head slowly. “I hadn’t even realized he’d left the grounds until later that evening. If you remember, during our interview, he excused himself?” When I nodded, she went on, “He was out in the garden, sitting on a bench, speaking on his cell phone.”

“Do you know who he was speaking to?”

“No. He hung up when I got close. Anyway, we exchanged a few heated words and he stalked off across the grounds. He must have circled back to the garage and went out for a drive. No one can recall seeing him between our argument and dinner. It was then that we noticed that he wasn’t on the estate.”

“Do you mind me asking why you argued?”

She swallowed and looked up. “I suppose it doesn’t matter now. It wasn’t so much an argument as a difference of opinion. He hadn’t liked the fact that I had asked you to come to the estate.”

“And why is that? You said that he cared a lot for your girls. I would have thought he’d be interested in knowing what happened to them.”

“Yes, well, that was my opinion too until I found out differently. I suppose I should have mentioned your call right after we spoke,” she said, with a tiny little frown. “Mitchell would have said his piece and I might have thought twice before bringing you out.”

“Really? His objections were that important?”

“Well, yes. He was afraid that your investigation would undermine his father’s.” For a moment, she looked lost again, but then gathered herself and words began to fly from her mouth. “I don’t know all of the details and there was such secrecy surrounding Deanna’s murder and Natalie’s disappearance. No one would tell me anything for fear I would…” She let go of my hand then and leaned back. “I have a heart issue. Certainly not as delicate a condition as I and others were led to believe when one considers everything I’ve had to deal with recently, but it is a concern that my family and I took seriously. No one wanted to…they were all very cautious to make sure that I received only the news that was pertinent and validated. You see, Mrs. Grissom, after Deanna had disappeared, our lives were turned inside out. She was a very public figure. Always involved in this charity and that cause. Her disappearance took everyone by surprise. Our lives became a circus. No one had any privacy. No one had any peace. We were hounded by the terrible rumors and the false hopes of those greedy enough to want the reward we offered for information but could have cared less for the truth…I don’t know how we got through it. It did get easier for a while…but then, we were told…we got the call that they’d found her. Murdered. I couldn’t…I didn’t fair very well at first. I took a bad turn, you see. But there were still the questions, you know. I didn’t have a choice but to deal with it all. Finding her seemed to stir everything up again because of the violent manner in which she’d died. Our friends and family-well, what was left of it-they tried to help…they built a wall around Natalie and me…for protection from the media and all the ugliness…oversaw the investigation personally…but it still managed to reach us, didn’t it? Natalie…”

She looked so hurt and so small. I had a hard time remembering when another person’s suffering had affected me so deeply. Very quietly, I asked, “His father’s investigation? I wasn’t aware that there was another person conducting an inquiry into your daughters’ death. You didn’t mention it when I called.” When she didn’t seem inclined to comment, I continued, “Can I have his name? He might have information we haven’t-“ Mrs. Wayburn was shaking her head negatively before I could finish the sentence. “What? What is it?”

“I can give you his name but I’m afraid it would do you very little good. He…he died a few days ago.” There were fresh tears then, keeping her from going on but I knew…I knew in my gut…where this was leading before she said it. When she finally cleared her throat to try again, my suspicions were confirmed when she said, “Mitchell’s father is-was-in law enforcement. You might know him. Jeff McKeen. Senior. He’s-he was the undersheriff for this district. He-He passed away earlier this week. It’s one of the reasons I’m here now. I’m attending the memorial service later on today.”

The ABC's of CSI: Book III: Cold, Snow and Ice: H is for Heroics, GSR, M

Sat, 02 Jan 2010 22:18:20 GMT

Title: The ABC's of CSI: Book III: Cold, Snow and Ice: H is for Heroics
Author: danceoftheheart
Rating: M
Spoilers: Anything up to currently Aired USA Season 10 is fair game.
Pairings: GSR
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or its characters. Please do not sue. I don't think either of us would enjoy the experience all that much.

A/N: Fluff, fluff and more fluff. Oh and a little romance tossed in for fun. This series takes up directly where the Jungle Series left off. Gil and Sara are on their way to colder climbs. How will they keep warm? Stay tuned…

H is for Heroics

I sighed heavily as I propped open the lid of my laptop and waited for it to wake up. I was exhausted but I needed to email the lab before the media reports reached them to reassure them everything was all right. I opened my email server and hit the ‘To’ button then selected the blanket send group that had Greg, Catherine, Nick, Jim and Ecklie’s addresses linked to it. For the subject heading, I simply filled in, “Happy New Year from the Great White North”.

How to begin? I stared at the blank screen for several minutes before I started typing my standard greeting:

Hello All!

I hope everyone there is well and that you had a quiet, peaceful New Year’s. Okay, so I know that’s a lot to ask of Las Vegas but one can hope, right?

I know it’s been a couple of days since I’ve written but well, we had a little excitement here that sort of kept us too preoccupied to get on with our usual routines.

My fingers paused above the keyboard. Gil was coughing again. I glanced over, noting the fact that he looked as though he was still mostly asleep and waited, hoping the coughing would subside rather than build. When he relaxed back into the mattress a few minutes later I let out a slow, silent breath and tried to concentrate again on my letter.

It’s three am here, and the light outside is as bright as it would be at high noon...in other words, non-existant. The people here strive to keep a normal routine through these endless nights but I have noticed that sleep is hard to come by unless you keep yourself very busy, especially for a workaholic, insomniac like me. It just seems that with no 'sunrise' there are so many hours in the day that you have almost an ‘obligation’ to fill them. I don’t know how to explain it really. I just know that I’m always looking for things to do…or try. I’ve gotten back into sketching and photography…things I haven’t really played with for some time. There’s something about the landscape and the people here that fascinates me. It takes a remarkable stamina and personal strength to survive and prosper in these hash conditions. I often times find myself reaching for a pencil or a camera desperate to capture some of the most touching moments so I can remember them clearly when we head back home.

I re-read what I’d written, wondering at the fact that I was circling around my news in such a casual way but decided that maybe it was easier to lead into things…at least for me.

Gil’s become quite passionate about ice fishing. He’s found several good friends who enjoy nothing more than getting up early and heading out to the ice-cap for a couple of hours before they settle into the rest of their day. You should see him, all bundled up…eyes sparkling at the adventure of it all. I don’t think I’ve seen him so at ease with himself in all the time I’ve known him. We’ve joked about it…me telling him that the arctic life suits him…but he insists that it’s not the place…it’s being married to me that makes him happy.

I smile at that last bit, a sentimental tear trickling down my cheek as I remember his expression when he’d said those words to me. It was the last thing he’d said before he’d gone out that evening…

Anyway, we’ve both been making the most of our time here.

I don’t know if I mentioned this but earlier this year, when the Olympic torch made the first leg of it’s journey through Canada, it stopped off here. It was quite an event. Lots of media coverage and excitement. The whole town was completely immersed in the festivities and things went very well. There was only one hitch in the entire venture. A curious polar bear was stalking the town while the runners were trying to make their way along the trail. They were very concerned about the possibility that the bear might continue to trail the torch bearers through the dogsled portion of the trek but luckily nothing untoward happened.

This is nothing new for Resolute Bay. One of the dangers we were told of…frankly, warned of…when we arrived was that we did get the occasional polar bear wandering through town. Most of the time, they weren’t aggressive and could be scared off but we were told that outdoor activities, especially those conducted when the fish supply was low in the coldest months, had to be planned and well…organized…to protect against incidents. You were expected to be responsible and take the proper precautions. You didn’t venture out unless you told someone where you were going…your approximate return time…and took with you the necessary survival and first aid equipment needed if you were going outside township limits. This included making sure someone in your party was armed and prepared to deal with wildlife incidents should they occur.

I have to admit, that Gil and I hadn’t taken the warnings as seriously as we should have when we first landed but after the torch relay, we certainly had a change of heart. The organizers of the event had planned for every contingency, including having stationed lookouts. These look-outs were heavily armed (with both tranquilizer rifles and regular ones) and very prepared to deal with any trouble that could present itself…particularly in bear form. Polar bears are incredibly intelligent animals, not to mention, incredibly strong hunters. Some of the sailors around here tell you stories about how when they were fishing off the coast, a bear would pick up their sent and trail them all along the coast for the duration of their trip if it was hungry enough to hunt them down. Luckily for us, in this case, this bear wasn’t hunting; just curious. The bear was warned off sternly the couple of times it got too close to the town and all was fine, but only because the township had planned so carefully. Needless to say it made quite an impression on us. Gil and I have been overcautious in our pursuits to ensure that we could be as safe as could be.

Not everyone here was always that diligent.

Gil was coughing again. This time the coughing didn’t abate and I had to help him to sit up while he drank some warm tea and then settled him back into the covers. “What are you doing?” he asked me, as he rolled to his side.

“Writing the gang back at the lab,” I told him.

“Leave it and come back to bed. You’re tired,” he said. His voice sounded so gruff and strained, I’m sure his throat was aching as he formed the words.

I shook my head. “I will. In a bit.”

He turned his head to look at me and sighed. “I’m okay…now, Sara. You don’t have to keep watch.”

I leaned down and painted a delicate kiss against his skin. “I know. You’re much better than you were even a couple of hours ago. I’m just…I’m just going to finish this and then I’ll come back to bed, okay?”

He moaned an agreement and then rolled back around to sink back into the bedding. I think he was asleep before I made it back to the computer. Knowing I could be interrupted any time now, I decided I had to get to the crux of my news before Gil asked for me again.

I’m sure you’re all wondering where this is heading so I’ll get to the point. On New Year’s Eve, Gil and his gang decided to go out for a ‘late-night’ fish. In fact, we sort of made it a party because the girlfriends and wives of the men tagged along. We’ll all brought food and drinks to welcome in the New Year with a bit of a bash. We weren’t the only ones doing it either. I think that by the time Midnight hit there were probably close to forty people milling about and having a good time. It was cold and people took turns warming up inside their cars but it was pretty cool. I don’t think many fish were caught.

Anyway, we were all making quite a bit of noise and I guess that and the food attracted some unwanted attention. We literally went from laughing one minute to hearing warning shouts and shots from some of the rifles. A bear had wandered perilously close to our gathering and was getting closer by the second. Nobody panicked but there was a flurry of activity as people began clearing things up and heading back to the town while those that were armed kept a careful survey of the bear and its activity.

At first it looked as though the bear was going to move on, but then, it stopped and began a charge right for the hole where Gil and his friends had been fishing. In our haste to pack up, someone had left a string of fish on the ice pad and the bear was obviously determined to get at it.

There was a shout, followed by more, and another blast or two of rifles into the air (no one wanted to hurt the bear unless it was absolutely necessary), and then the sight of the strung fish being flung in the opposite direction of the bear’s path. As a distraction, it was a bit lame, but the bear took it, snagging the catch in his mouth and heading off. Strangely, there was a good bit of laughing and cheering at that as the bear ran away in the dark. I think it was relief more than amusement but in any case, unfortunately, it was short lived.

We were all watching the bear and its loping gallop across the ice when suddenly there was another shout, this one of a panicked nature. At the time, I wasn’t close enough to see exactly what had happened but later, after everyone was safe, I learned that one of Gil’s friends had come dangerously close to drowning that night. He would have…had it not been for Gil.

Dave Brenner, a fellow researcher but one that had been part of the populace of Resolute Bay for close to ten years, lost his footing as the bear had made its aggressive approach towards the ice hole. In the chaos of the moment, he’d dropped into the water and hadn’t been able to find his way back to the surface. The combination of the frigid temperature of the water and the five or six beers he’d swallowed forced his system into a state of shock almost instantaneously. Everyone says that had he stayed in that water a moment longer than he had he wouldn’t have made it.

No one realized he was gone. Everyone was busy congratulating themselves over the bear incident that no one had a clue they were one person short…that is until Gil started counting heads and realized someone was missing.

I trembled, there on my seat, in our tiny little cabin, remembering the chill I felt that night when the shout went up and I’d realized that Gil had gone in after him.

After, when everyone was safe and warm and being cared for at the clinic, Gil said that he had seen something. Just a flash of clothing…Dave’s belt buckle to be exact…and hadn’t thought…just acted. He slid across the ice, guys, and wedged himself into the hole and…grabbed hold of that belt buckle and hung on for dear life. The others around him quickly realized what had happened and were able to pull both men to safety but both Dave and Gil had been soaked through and needed immediate medical attention.

Both men stayed overnight receiving treatment. Dave was suffering from severe hyperthermia…he was touch and go for several days. He went into cardiac arrest a couple of hours after he was admitted but battled back. My last call to the doctor in charge of his care confirmed that he was still holding his own. There’s every possibility he will make a full recovery if he can gain back his strength.

As for Gil, they kept him for a couple of days as well. He contracted a severe case of bronchial pneumonia. Although his body was only exposed for a few minutes, his system had a really difficult time dealing with the incident. He developed a high fever and a vicious cough, which then turned into a serious lung infection. They were worried about losing him too at one point because the fever just wouldn’t break and the infection was too severe. But you know Grissom. Stubborn as they come. He fought every bit as hard as Dave did and is currently resting in our bed at home. His lungs are still weak and he’s on a lot of medication but he’s made remarkable strides in just the last twenty-four hours. They’re very certain he’ll be back to himself in a few more days.

That’s all of the news on our end. I wanted to write you as soon as I could because I was told that the national papers have picked up the story and that there was every possibility you guys would see something soon. I didn’t want you to worry.

Here’s hoping your New Year’s was less eventful than ours.

Take care,
Sara

I pressed the send button with an immense sigh of relief and softly lowered the laptop lid once it cleared the server. I made a quick trip to the bathroom, scrubbed my face and my teeth and then padded back to the bedroom.

Gil was snoring; softly but with some vigor. I grinned. It was familiar. It was normal. To my weary body, it was music. I think it was the first, deep, even breathing I’d heard from him in days and no sound could be sweeter. I lifted the covers, so carefully, desperate not to wake him and inched my way across the mattress. I snuggled up to his back and wrapping myself against his frame, pressed my ear tight to his spine. The steady rhythm of his heart was my lullaby as I drifted off, knowing precisely the measure of the man I held so closely in my arms.

Gil blushed and shrugged off his actions when anyone mentioned the word, ‘heroic’ in his presence, insisting that he’d just done what needed to be done, but we knew what he was just the same.

A/N: While the events around the ice rescue were completely fabricated by me, the events I recalled for the Olympic Torch relay are actually true.

The Jungle Series Link Post

Fri, 01 Jan 2010 19:34:19 GMT

Title: The Jungle Series
Author: danceoftheheart
Rating: M
Spoilers: Everything up to aired USA Season 9
SPOILER WARNING Season 9
Pairings: GSR
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or its characters. Please do not sue. I don't think either of us would enjoy the experience all that much.

A/N: I had absolutely no intention of following Gil and Sara into the Jungle. Really. Had been quite determined to avoid it but...what started out as a silly, late-nite scribble turned into a series that I really have grown quite fond of. Gil and Sara are a little hot and bothered as they try to pick up where they left off in Vegas.

In the Jungle
Rash Confessions
Monkey Love
Heat
Jungle Fever
Take Off
Test Flight
Turbulance
Moo Goo Guy Pan

Though technically not part of the series, Freddy Flatlips fits smack-dab inbetween this one and ABC's Book III: Cold, Snow and Ice so I thought I might as well post the links here to that one as well.

FFF and HSHOL: Dancing with the Demon PT I
FFF and HSHOL: Dancing with the Demon PT II

The Wake Up Call Trilogy Link Page

Fri, 01 Jan 2010 18:29:05 GMT

Title: Wake Up Call Trilogy

Author: danceoftheheart
Rating: Teen (for language)
Spoilers: None
Pairings: GSR
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or its characters. Please do not sue. I don't think either of us would enjoy the experience all that much.

A/N: So here’s the deal. This started out as a post ep fic…enough said about that…and about two lines in went in another direction entirely. Quite frankly, I’m glad it did. I had a lot more fun with this angle. Parts have been added as inspiration struck. Enjoy.

Wake Up Call I: Escape from Planet De’lquoid
Wake Up Call II
Wake Up Call III: Reality Check

The ABC's of CSI: Book III: Cold, Snow and Ice Link Page

Fri, 01 Jan 2010 18:04:39 GMT

Title: The ABC's of CSI: Book III: Cold, Snow and Ice
Author: danceoftheheart
Rating: M
Spoilers: Anything up to currently Aired USA Season 10 is fair game.
Pairings: GSR
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or its characters. Please do not sue. I don't think either of us would enjoy the experience all that much.

A/N: Fluff, fluff and more fluff. Oh and a little romance tossed in for fun. This series takes up directly where the Jungle Series left off. Gil and Sara are on their way to colder climbs. How will they keep warm? Stay tuned…

A is for Accoutrements
B is for Bikini
C is for Crash
D is for Decisions
E is for Eutrapely
F is for Festivity
G is for Garland
H is for Heroics

Intermezzo Link Page

Fri, 01 Jan 2010 17:52:04 GMT

Fast Freddy Flatlips and his Screaming Horn of Love Link Page

Fri, 01 Jan 2010 17:37:23 GMT

Title: Fast Freddy Flatlips and his Screaming Horn of Love
Author: danceoftheheart
Rating: M
Spoilers: Anything up to currently Aired USA Season 9 is fair game.
Pairings: GSR
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or its characters. Please do not sue. I don't think either of us would enjoy the experience all that much.

A/N: Freddy and his Sreaming Horn of Love is fast becoming his own series. Our flatlipped friend makes a return in this, the third installment. Though this piece fits nicely into my Jungle series it could seriously be considered an episode all on its own. Jealous, drunken smut abounds. Smut. Don’t you just love saying that word? Smut…Smut…Smut…has such a nice ring to it. Oh, right, the story. Okay. I’ll stop talking now. Go on. You can read it. Not another word from me. Nope. Notta. None. Zip. Zilch even. Okay. I’m done. Seriously. Finsihed. Okay then.

Screaming Horn of Love - The Original
Surrender to the Beast NC 17
Dancing With the Demon Pt I
Dancing With the Demon Pt II

Freddy gets a mention in The ABC's of CSI III: Cold, Snow and Ice Series
F is for Festivity

Fast Freddy Flatlips and his Screaming Horn of Love: Dancing with the Demon PT II, GSR, M

Fri, 01 Jan 2010 01:13:04 GMT

Title: Fast Freddy Flatlips and his Screaming Horn of Love: Dancing with the Demon PT II
Author: danceoftheheart
Rating: M
Spoilers: Anything up to currently Aired USA Season 9 is fair game.
Pairings: GSR
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or its characters. Please do not sue. I don't think either of us would enjoy the experience all that much.

A/N: Freddy and his Sreaming Horn of Love is fast becoming his own series. Our flatlipped friend makes a return in this, the third installment. Though this piece fits nicely into my Jungle series it could seriously be considered an episode all on its own. Jealous, drunken smut abounds. Smut. Don’t you just love saying that word? Smut…Smut…Smut…has such a nice ring to it. Oh, right, the story. Okay. I’ll stop talking now. Go on. You can read it. Not another word from me. Nope. Notta. None. Zip. Zilch even. Okay. I’m done. Seriously. Finsihed. Okay then.

Fast Freddy Flatlips and his Screaming Horn of Love, Dancing with the Demon

Part II

OH
MY
GODDDDDDDDDDDDDD

Nobody heard him, right? The music was too loud, right? I could open my eyes and pretend nothing happened, because no one was reacting and that meant they couldn’t have heard him, right?

Wrong.

I opened my eyes and peeked around.

My husband’s words had apparently turned the entire group to stone…temporarily…and I could see it would be only a matter of seconds before the reaction would set it.

As if on cue, my whole table erupted with laughter and pointedly teasing remarks.

“Way to go, Grissman!”

“You have his cd?”

“He’s always been a role model for me.”

It was embarrassing, it was hilarious, it was obnoxious but…most of all, it was LOUD. Very loud. Loud enough to attract the attention of the people at our neighboring tables. Loud enough to earn us dirty looks from the wait-staff of the lounge. Loud enough in fact to carry all the way across that tiny lounge to the stage where I realized belatedly that Freddy and his crew were now standing impatiently as my table carried on.

And since the absolute last thing I wanted in the world was to bring any further attention to myself I did the cowardly thing and slumped in my seat. I prayed to whatever deity that happened to be listening at that moment that someone would get up the nerve to eject us from the lounge.

No such luck.

Hey, this was Vegas. Tolerance for the type of disruption we were creating went pretty high.

Freddy, my one time duet partner and…lord help me…kissing crush suddenly stopped mid note and yelled out, “SPOT! SPOT! That table over there! In the back. SPOT!” The last command seemed to be the charm as we were suddenly bombarded with an inhumanly wide beam of illumination from the barrel canister light in the corner of the lounge. The light had the instantaneous effect of making proverbial deer out of my friends. As for me, I would have given a year of my life for that damn cloak of invisibility that bespectacled half-pint magician carted around in those Harry Potter books. All eyes were definitely focused on us and since my lover’s hand had started a very…um…interesting exploration of my skin under the cover of the tablecloth I was very much afraid that they were going to get a show of much more x-rated nature than anyone had bargained for.

Like nails on a squeaky clean blackboard, Freddy’s voice suddenly cut through the air. “Hey, you lot! We’re in the middle of a show now. Do you mind shutting the fuck up and letting us get on?” Gone was the husky rasp Freddy had been sporting and in its place was some mutilated imitation of a Liverpool Britt.

My jaw dropped in shock. That was new, I thought to myself as I eye-measured the distance between the door and me. Who the hell did Freddy think he was? The reincarnation of John Lennon?

I would have laughed outright but I was suddenly distracted as Gil’s voice sounded from the depths of his folded arms, “…screaming horn of love, now don’t you want it!” Up went the table again in a cackling riot of voices! From a critical viewpoint, Gil’s imitations of Freddy’s croon wasn’t half bad but from a personal one…well, let’s just say I could have lived quite happily without discovering my lover was a talented mimic. What’s worse is that Gil didn’t stop there. No, buoyed by applause and cheers, Gil raised his head and rasped out the entire next verse:

Lover crawl across the sheets,
Set my nerves a quaking,
It’s only for tonight
No promises I’m making
Come on, share a little lust
With a man who’s close to breaking
I want to take your soul
Give your earth a little shaking

Instead of being insulted, Freddy was delighted. “A FAN!” he crowed, stripping off his guitar and tripping off the miniscule stage. “Go on man, take it. Take it!” he shouted with the air of a King commanding a lowly court jester. “Take it!”

Do I need to tell you Gil took it? Well, just in case, yes, he took it. Took it and ran.

So there I was, doing my best to become one with the tacky upholstery of the padded booth while my former college crush and my current boyfriend ground out the lyrics for the chorus complete with ‘air’ fingering of imaginary saxophone accompaniment.

With this Screaming Horn of Love
Come on there’s no denying
My Screaming Horn of Love
It wants to take you flying

My Screaming Horn of Love
It's hungry and it's yearning
My Screaming Horn of Love
Wants to feel you burning...

By the end of the chorus, bad knees not withstanding, Gil had hoisted himself off the bench and had switched to ‘air guitar’ accompanied by the occasional explicit hip roll.

I was utterly dazed. Transfixed. I mean really, the whole world could have come to an end and I’m not a hundred percent sure I would have noticed. Mind you, nor would have anyone else. Considering the mood everyone was in, it was no real surprise that my table had jumped to their feet and were cheering their former boss on at the tops of their lungs. What’s more, others had joined in from the other tables and everyone was having a whale of a time. So you know, I figured…what the hell, and joined in. I mean it would have looked odd if I hadn’t, right? Right. Freddy was standing only a few feet from me, but believe me, his attention was totally centred on the Gil’s antics so I rocked it out with the rest of them.

The song came to an inevitable conclusion of guitar riffing and saxophone trilling and the expected explosive blast from all instruments and everyone cheered. Yes, even me, because stupidly, I’d figured Freddy would shake Gil’s hand or something and then head back to the stage like any normal egomaniac would. Yes, in a perfect world, that’s exactly what would have happened and Freddy would have done the rest of his set, and I would have poured my lover into a taxi and we would have driven off down the strip. Yep. Yep. Sure.

What? You didn’t think I was going to get off that easily, did you? If you did, you obviously have not been paying very close attention to the whim of fate…and her peculiar sense of humor when it comes to my life and the running of it.

No, Freddy, who when I knew him never said more than five words in an entire night other than when singing, suddenly wanted to spark up a conversation. Five guesses as to who he wanted to speak to. Don’t need five? Okay, how about one?

“Alright, mate! Alright! Brilliant! I never would have guessed it. Not to look at you. Just goes to show music has no bounds, right? Brilliant. Just bloody brilliant.”

Gil was still taking bows so I’m not sure how much he heard. The crowd was still a little rowdy. Sensing he needed to gain back the audience, Freddy signaled for a mic. His next question was much more audible. “Tell me friend, where’d you come across my song?”

“I have it at home,” Gil slurred into the mic. “I have it on CD.”

“Brilliant! Brilliant!” Freddy shouted back, with delight. “On my compilation CD?”

Gil, who had climbed back onto the bench beside me, shook his head as he made a swipe at his beer bottle. “No. Original.”

“What was that mate?”

Gil gulped some of his beer greedily. “I have a copy of your original CD.”

Freddy nodded. “Oh, you mean the one we produced in Boston?” Then he laughed. “I guess that makes you one of the three people that bought that one, heh mate?”

Gil laughed, but shook his head again, waving to emphasize his point. “Hell, no. Didn’t pay for it. I said I…well, actually, my girlfriend has the original. The first one. The one where all the others came from.”

Freddy looked blank, not getting Gil’s point. “Sorry, mate. Not following you.” He leaned in a little closer, obviously trying to look chummy with Gil for the audience’s benefit.

And at this point, I don’t know if Gil suddenly realized just who exactly it was that was asking the questions, or if in fact, Freddy was real and not just some voice belting out a corny song on our stereo but…his mouth thinned. And he got this really strange look in his eyes. “Fast Freddy,” he muttered…almost growling.

Freddy was amused. “Yeah, mate. That’s me. Fast Freddy Flatlips.”

“Fatlips,” Gil said, his voice getting louder.

“Oh crap,” I said, grabbling hold of Gil’s arm. “You know what, honey? I’m really tired. I think it’s time for us to go home.”

Gil didn’t hear me. Freddy didn’t hear me. They were too busy listening to each other.

“That’s Flatlips, mate.” As dense as he sometimes was, he was beginning to clue into the fact that Gil was suddenly not as friendly as he was a moment ago.

“Fatlips,” Gil repeated, rising. “You stabbed my girlfriend with a bottle opener.” And then before anyone could react, Gil hauled back and let his fist fly.

The ABC's of CSI: Book III: Cold, Snow and Ice: G is for Garland, GSR, M

Thu, 31 Dec 2009 21:21:57 GMT

Title: The ABC's of CSI: Book III: Cold, Snow and Ice: G is for Garland
Author: danceoftheheart
Rating: M
Spoilers: Anything up to currently Aired USA Season 10 is fair game.
Pairings: GSR
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or its characters. Please do not sue. I don't think either of us would enjoy the experience all that much.

A/N: Fluff, fluff and more fluff. Oh and a little romance tossed in for fun. This series takes up directly where the Jungle Series left off. Gil and Sara are on their way to colder climbs. How will they keep warm? Stay tuned…

The ABC’s of CSI: Book III: Adventures in Cold, Snow, and Ice

G is for Garland

“Ho…Ho…Ho…”

I looked up from my American Entomology journal and smirked appreciatively. “I thought we’d used all of the garland on the tree.”

Sara shook her head. “No…I…um…snuck some away when you went to the kitchen to snag another cookie.”

“How did you get it to-?”

“Hang in all the right places? Hmmm?”

I swallowed. “Yes.”

“That’s my little secret.” She twirled a little, preening at her cleverness, blew a kiss in my direction and headed out of the room. “Guess you’ll have to unwrap me to find out.”

“If I must, I must,” I agreed and followed her out.

Intermezzo: Part VI, GSR, M

Thu, 31 Dec 2009 21:11:14 GMT

Title: Intermezzo: Part VI
Author: danceoftheheart
Rating: M
Spoilers: Anything up to currently Aired USA Season 8 is fair game.
Pairings: GSR
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or its characters. Please do not sue. I don't think either of us would enjoy the experience all that much.

A/N: Happy New Year! Thought I'd sneak this one out today. If I'm lucky, I'll get FTL up too. It just needs a bit of tweaking. Enjoy!

Intermezzo

Part VI

Well, I have to admit my heart stopped. Literally stopped for a full, painful second. It was many minutes before I managed to let out the breath that I’d been holding and bent to pick up the plastic wrapped horror.

Shaking, I took it carefully between my pinched fingers and eased it from the deck, trying to take stock of the situation.

Please…please, tell me I’m not doing this. Please. Please, tell me it’s not me. It’s got to be someone else, right? Someone playing a really terrible, awful, sick joke. Please. Please. Tell me I’m not losing my mind.

But who else could it be. We were alone, right? I just checked. There’s no one else here.

Not now, but there could have been. Earlier. When you were out at dinner. Get a grip, Sara and try to do something useful. If it was someone else…or even if it was you, there has to be evidence, right? Something. Something.

Forcing myself to think beyond the moment, I looked the package over from all angles, and only then did I realize that something wasn’t quite right. The tape looked odd to me. The tape…the tape was different. Wasn’t it? It wasn’t as clear as the tape Gil had given me to use in the kitchen the other night. The tape? Really? Grasping at straws, aren’t we? But then…maybe…maybe…I blinked, the minor detail making me focus better than any amount of mental pep talk could. I started twisting the package this way and that, hoping that I could find some other details to substantiate my suspicions. I couldn’t really comment on the staples because I did them so hap-hazardly but it did seem to me that maybe…maybe…there were a couple more staples embedded in the plastic than I had thought…?

And maybe I was imagining the whole thing.

Everyone says you’re pretty clever, Sara. Are you clever enough to fool yourself? Genius is akin to madness, after all. And madness runs in the family, doesn’t it? Doesn’t it? Am I so desperate to prove that it isn’t me playing this crazy game of hide and seek…that I’m willing to delude myself into thinking that the package is different? Stupid question. Yes, of course I am. Anyone would be, wouldn’t they? And yet…and yet…wait a minute!

There were only three baggies around the sketchbook.

“I know I wrapped it in four,” I murmured, scanning the interior intensely to be certain my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me. No, I concluded after a moment of careful examination, I had been right. There were only three bags in the package. The zippered closures were easy to make out and I could only see three of them. It didn’t really prove anything I supposed, only that the package was wrapped differently but…it was something, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it?

I don’t remember getting up. I don’t remember leaving the bed. I don’t remember rewrapping this book. It would have taken time to do this. I would have made noise. When did I have the time?

Okay, I thought. Okay. Enough fooling around. You’re a CSI, Sara Sidle. About time you start thinking like one.

On silent feet, I carried the bag in that tight pinch of mine through the bedroom and out into the kitchen. I made sure to grab my kit on the way. I thought about waking Gil, really, I did, but I wanted to be sure…I just…I needed…to be sure.

So there, in the spotless kitchen, with the sun pouring into the breakfast nook, I used every skill I’d developed in the last few years to retrieve my sketchbook from its makeshift prison. It was a long process as I was extremely careful about causing the least amount of damage I could. I donned gloves, grabbed a razor-sharp, finely bladed scalpel and sliced away the thinnest portions I could manage of the bottoms of the bags. I figured that if there were any prints to be had they would be found near the openings and it was best that I leave those alone until I could get the plastic into a fumigator. Once the sketchbook was free, I dusted the outside layer. I came up with nothing. No smudges. No prints.

I began to get a little more excited. You wouldn’t think that not finding a print would have made me happy but in this case, I was ecstatic. The absence of prints was exactly what I was hoping to see. There should have been multiple fingerprints all over the plastic…namely, mine. I had been anything but careful when I’d put together the packaging in the first place. The complete absence of prints did more to confirm my suspicions than anything else so far. While it’s true that in the broad sense of things, I didn’t completely rule me out…the processes I would have gone to in my sleep to do something like this were really quite complex. What’s more, to do it so accurately and without fingerprints…well, it seemed like quite a stretch to me. Also, I was quick to note that there was very little of Gil’s red creeper dust lining the edges of the inner bag. There had been quite a bit when I first put the book inside. The bags were new. I was fairly certain of it now.

Carefully, oh so carefully, I rolled the plastic casings and slipped them into an evidence bag, making sure I labeled and dated the evidence log on the front. The minute the plane landed in San Francisco I was going to head straight for the lab. I grabbed another bag, determined to give my sketchbook the same treatment when I got back home but before I could put it away, something caught my eye. Words. Someone had written something in tiny, tiny script along the ‘blade’ of glass that had impaled Steiger. I couldn’t quite make it out. I had to turn the book side-ways and even had to grab a magnifying glass to get a better look because the words were scripted in a miniscule, spidery, sprawl.

Just like your mother…Like mother like daughter...Just like your mother…Like mother like daughter…

I dropped the book instantly. If the sketchbook had suddenly caught fire I don’t think it would have surprised me as much. “What the hell…?” I couldn’t finish the thought. My first instinct was to run…run to the bedroom, and get Gil, and be a complete coward and let him deal with this…but-but I knew I couldn’t do that. Oh god, no, the mention of my mother drove that thought from me so fast it was all I could do to stay upright. This was it. My deepest fears realized. No matter what I said or did at this point, Gil would find out about my past and I couldn’t-I couldn’t cope with that. Not like this. Not like this! Not when I hadn’t come to terms with it myself. I couldn’t let him see this. Not yet. I couldn’t let him know.

But someone knew. Someone knew about my mother and my past. Someone knew that my mother had murdered my father and someone was accusing me of doing the same to Steiger. I just hoped and prayed it wasn’t…me.

The last thought had barely formed when I heard rustling from the bedroom. “Sara?”

I panicked. I panicked hard. “In-In the kitchen, Gil,” I called back, shoving my sketchbook into the bottom of my case along with everything else I’d used. I stripped off my gloves, snapped together the locks, and gave it a good shove under the kitchen table then turned to busy myself with the coffee maker. When his hands came up to my shoulders and when he dropped a kiss into my neck I was able to smile and offer a, “Good morning,” in what was close to a normal tone of voice. “I’m just making a fresh p-pot. Want some?”

“Not as much as I want you,” he chuckled and turned me about. He pressed me back into the counter and plastered his frame against mine, the evidence of his arousal very apparent. And it was easy. Easy to wind my arms around his neck and pull his head down to mine and grind against him with all of the pent up adrenalin that was still coursing through my system. Easy to let him take me then and there in the warmth of the breakfast nook. Easy to meet his every overture in a flurry of limbs and lips and return it all with the desperation I felt. So easy…at the time.

But after…after when he led me to the shower and he stood under the spray…just…holding me. After, when we sat across from each other drinking coffee for what might be the last time in quite a while. After, when we parted at the airport gate, him to board his flight and me mine…after…I realized that it was probably one of the hardest things I’d ever done in my life.

I hadn’t told him, so in effect…I’d lied. Sort of, I guess. Lied by omission…or at the very least, broke the promise I’d made him. I didn’t wake him. I didn’t tell him what I’d found. What’s worse, I’d let him fly back to Vegas, thinking there was nothing wrong.

“Call me when you land,” he’d said, before kissing me good-bye.

I nodded, unable to keep myself from adding, “I’m going to miss you.”

“Then come with me,” he said, wiping my curls away from my face and holding my chin so he could kiss me again. “Please, Sara.”

“Gil-I-oh, you know I can’t. I need time…to think…to deal-“

“You can do that in Vegas. With me.” He kissed me again and oh…man…oh, you know I almost gave in. It was such a near thing.

But a picture flashed in my brain…of the words…scribbled on the shaft of glass…and I shook my head, unable to say no again, but he knew it was what I meant. There was no other response I could give. I just prayed he couldn’t hear how hard my heart was pounding…couldn’t see the words etched into the blade of glass burning in my eyes.

Just like your mother…Like mother like daughter...Just like your mother…Like mother like daughter…

The words were getting louder by the second. I’d managed to keep them buried this long but I knew it wouldn’t be long before my mouth said them and I couldn’t allow that to happen. This time, I was the one who reached out. I kissed his cheek and smiled sadly when I brushed away the traces of my lipstick the kiss had left behind. “I’ll call,” I told him and then turned away before I could change my mind. I didn’t look back. I couldn’t.

I spent the whole plane ride trying to justify my actions to myself. Trying. Going through things over and over in my mind. I wanted him away from this until I had a chance to figure out what was going on.

So far, it looked as though he wasn’t part of this. At least, that was what I was telling myself so that I could do what needed to be done. If I had my way, I would keep him out of it for as long as I could. I just wish I knew ‘who’ it was I was protecting him from.

I just wish I could be sure that it wasn’t me.

The ABC's of CSI: Book III: Cold, Snow and Ice: F is for Festivity, GSR, M

Tue, 08 Dec 2009 04:45:38 GMT

Title: The ABC's of CSI: Book III: Cold, Snow and Ice: F is for Festivity
Author: danceoftheheart
Rating: M
Spoilers: Anything up to currently Aired USA Season 10 is fair game.
Pairings: GSR
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or its characters. Please do not sue. I don't think either of us would enjoy the experience all that much.

A/N: Fluff, fluff and more fluff. Oh and a little romance tossed in for fun. This series takes up directly where the Jungle Series left off. Gil and Sara are on their way to colder climbs. How will they keep warm? Stay tuned…

The ABC’s of CSI: Book III
Cold, Snow and Ice

F is for Festivity

“You want to go now?”

“Well, yes. I mean, it’s a perfect time, isn’t it? You’re at a good stopping place in your research…so am I. We can’t go any further until we get our scheduled lab time tomorrow afternoon. It’s a nice day...”

Gil barked a laugh at that last bit. “Sara, your definition of a ‘nice day’ might need a little adjustment.” He gestured to the light…um…blizzard conditions we were currently getting a taste of outside our window.

“I knew I was pushing with that last bit…but come on, indulge me. If we actually wait for a ‘nice’ day to do this we may miss Christmas all together.” I let my fingers walk up his chest to his cheek and gave him a flirty, yet sincere, caress. “I didn’t get to do this last year and Christmas in the Jungle just wasn’t the same. No snow, no lights…I mean it’s bad enough in Vegas but last year was extreme. I can’t tell you how homesick I was for my college days at Harvard.”

“Ah,” he said, wrapping his arms around my waist and drawing me into his body. “So you’re to blame for the snow.”

I shrugged. “You have to realize the one benefit to this whole set up is snuggling up with you in front of the fire while the elements rage outside. And I want to bake some cookies and buy some ornaments to trim the tree. Hell, I want to buy a tree.” His chest started to shake a bit and I slapped him (not so gently) on the shoulder. “Don’t laugh at me. That isn’t nice.”

He shook harder but swooped in for an apologetic kiss. I let him lock lips with me for a moment but when we parted, I leveled him with a look. The beast rolled his eyes and let me go, throwing his hands up in surrender for good measure. “Fine. Fine. Let’s go,” he said with a long drawn out sigh.

I stood there for a moment, considering his tone and then shook my head. “No, never mind. I can see that you’re not in the mood and I don’t want to be in the position of forcing you to go. It wouldn’t be any fun.”

“I was kidding-“

“No, you weren’t. Or at least not completely. It’s okay. You do whatever you wanted to do. We can put this off but I think I will go get what I need for some baking. There’s still plenty of day left for me to get into that.”
“Sara-“

“Now where did I put those keys….oh!” I didn’t make it more than a couple of steps before I was caught up and caught close.

“I was playing and so are you. If you want to go, we’ll go. It might do us good to get out for a couple of hours.”

I was caught but I wasn’t convinced. “You’ll enjoy it?”

“Yes.”

“And you won’t be all grumpy and rushed?”

“Yes.”

“Because I don’t want to go if-“

“Sara!” he growled, exasperated. “I want to go. I’m willing to go but I won’t be if-“

“Okay. Okay, sorry. Let me grab my coat.” I hustled out of the room before he could change his mind.

* * * *

Since our shopping choices consisted primarily of the Tadjaat Co-op and the airport gift shop, our trip really didn’t take that long. Still, it was nice to get out and greet some of our neighbors, check in with the clerks about the local news and just be part of society for a short while. Between the weather conditions, and the fact that the local populace consisted primarily of about 300 people (give or take a few scientists), it was far too easy to allow oneself to become isolated if one wasn’t careful. Gil and I made a point of stopping in at the Qausuittuq Inns North once a week to have dinner and socialize, and of course we made use of the gym and the labs but for the most part we were pretty self reliant. We both liked to read and research took up quite a bit of our day so we didn’t really need much outside our little nest. Being Newlyweds I suppose we craved the privacy as much as anyone but that didn’t mean it was wise for us to give in to that craving to the exclusion of all else.

We’d managed to get everything on our list and a few surprises as well so it took us three trips each in and out of the car to get it all inside. “Gil, if you want to start setting up the tree and the lights, I’ll unpack the groceries and get the first batch of cookies ready.”

“Yes, dear,” Gil replied with a voice that practically sang obviously a little more in the spirit of things than he’d been before we’d left. The trip had been fun and Gil was in a particularly good mood seeing as his parcel from the Vegas lab had arrived at the post office this morning. “Just let me get a fire going in here first.”

“Mmmm. Sounds good. Wine?”

“Yes, I’d like a glass.”

“Red or white?”

“We’re having fish for dinner, right?”

“Well, you are. I’m having a veggie patty.” Gil grimaced at my choice and to be honest, I couldn’t blame him. Vegetarian cuisin e was extremely limited in our only supermarket and frankly, the choices weren’t that good to begin with but one couldn’t be fussy if one wanted to eat. Frankly, I’d had enough pasta and lentils in the last couple of days to do me for a while. I needed a change. “Red or white?” I repeated, holding the two bottles aloft.

“White, please,” he said absently, studying the instructions that came with the tree stand. “Music?”

“Of course.” I passed him a glass half full of a golden white and then went back to my baking preparations. “What would be a tree trimming without some holiday tunes.”

We went about our perspective tasks, belting out the notes of whatever song came over the laptop speakers, and it wasn’t long before I was able to join Gil in the living room. He was just finishing with the last of the lights as I perched on the edge of the sofa. I studied contentedly as he made the final adjustments.

He looked up and took an appreciate sniff. “Gingerbread?”

I swallowed the sip of wine that I’d taken and nodded. “Hmmhmmm. Smells good, doesn’t it? I’m kind of testing the waters…seeing how the oven and the altitude handle this recipe. First batch should be ready in about ten minutes. We can sample it and I should be able to get two more in before you’ll want to start dinner.”

“If those cookies taste as good as they smell, we won’t need dinner.”

I giggled. He was such a little boy sometimes. “Fine by me but don’t complain later when your stomach’s growling because we skipped. Ready for some ornaments?”

He tweaked one or two more spots and then stood back to review his work. “I think so. Let me just plug it in.” He bent to insert the cord into the jack. “There. That looks just about perfect.”

“A fine job indeed,” I said and saluted him with my glass. “Okay. Let’s get busy.”

We both dug into the boxes and bags of trimmings we’d purchased and before the timer on the stove went off, we’d managed to get all of the ornaments on. As we munched on piping hot gingerbread men drizzled in home-made cream cheese frosting we inspected our handiwork, snickering at the presentation.

“As soon as we get the garland on, we’re going to IM the lab. Greg will get quite a kick out of this.”

“What? I think it’s pretty amazing considering what we had to work with.”

It was my turn to roll my eyes. “You know, I told you that we needed to shop for this stuff as soon as it hit the shelves.”

“That was in September. Who shops for Christmas decorations in September?”

“Anyone who celebrates Christmas in Resolute Bay, Canada, that’s who,” I told him with a shoulder nudge and a solid chuckle. “When things run out here, they run out.” I laughed again and walked back to the kitchen. “That’s an awful lot of orange.”

And it was. We had orange plastic balls for ornaments in three sizes, three strings of blinking orange mini lights, orange soda pop flavored candy canes and, to top it all off, orange and white garland. But the best part (or should I say parts?) of all were the ten little Santas we had scattered here and there. The only box of ornaments left on the store shelf that wasn’t orange had been this little beat up box of Santa figurines so Gil and I had grabbed it and tossed it in the cart. We were so happy to find something that wasn’t orange that we really didn’t inspect the box all that closely so it wasn’t until we opened it a couple of minutes ago that we realized that each and every one of those little guys was naked as the day they were born! Santa’s hat was put to good use, covering his um…holly berries…but other than that the poor little elves were completely sans clothing.

“Orange trimmings and pornographic Santas. I don’t know. I think it works, somehow, don’t you?”

“Well it certainly puts a new spin on the phrase, ‘Ho Ho Ho.’” I scooped the rest of the cookies from the first batch to cooling racks and started cutting out the second. Within a few minutes I had a fresh tray ready so I slipped them into the over and began spacing out a third. My back was to the living room so I didn’t realize Gil had snuck up behind me until his arms slid around my waist and he started rocking with me slowly. It was then I noticed that the laptop had moved onto another song…one with a heavy, throbbing beat. One that I recognized almost the instant it started playing. “Oh my god. You can’t be serious.”

“Traditional Christmas hymns don’t really seem appropriate.”

“And you think Freddy’s Screaming Horn of Love is?” I countered, belatedly realizing that he’d had to have either downloaded that frigging song from the disc to the laptop or Freddy’s song was actually available now on a music site. I shuddered at the thought and then groaned low in my throat as Gil began to nip at my neck. “On second thought…” I said, turning around quickly in his arms and moving in tight, “maybe it works just fine.” My mouth was on his and we were half dancing, half stumbling towards the bedroom, all thoughts of cookies and orange trimmed trees melting away in the wake of our shared lust.

We made love, laughing and teasing each other the whole time. Gil had left Freddy’s song on loop so it kept playing over and over in the background as we played between the sheets…and on top of the sheets…and under the sheets…and well, truth be told, without any sheets at all. It was a romp of a session that only ended when the smell of burnt gingerbread filtered through the air.

“Holy crap! We forgot about the cookies! They’re probably ruined.” I pushed against Gil’s chest and rolled to my feet. Opening the door to the oven confirmed my suspicions. “Poor little guys. You didn’t have a chance, did you?”

Gil had followed me out and was now peeking over my shoulder and the scorched offerings. “Nothing salvageable?”

“’Fraid not. Guess I’ll throw them out.” I made to do so but Gil stalled me.

“No, wait. I have an idea. Do we still have any of that fishing line I used for ice fishing last month?”

* * * * *

On Sunday evening, December 6, 2009, Greg opened his email and spied a letter from Sara Sidle Grissom in the inbox. He clicked it open, expecting to see one of her lengthy, off hand commentaries of her latest adventures in the North but instead saw only one line of type.

“Season’s Greetings, from the Grissoms.”

He frowned quizzically at the sentiment and then noticed there was an attachment. He double clicked the link and a huge photo opened in a separate window. At first, the picture looked to him like any number of standard family holiday shots. There were his newly married friends standing arm in arm in front of a roaring fire and a brightly decorated tree, but on closer inspection, he discovered that it was anything but ‘standard’. The picture was blown up enough that he could make out the decorations quite clearly. The first thing he noticed was all the orange. “Weird,” he said out loud and leaned in closer. He sort of did a double-take when he saw the naked Santas. “Very weird,” he murmured, squinting quizzically at the strange little figurines. Finally, his eyes honed in on the smudgy, obviously burnt to a crisp, gingerbread men that dangled eerily between the branches. Not only did they appear to float in mid-air but whoever had decorated them had given them features that resembled lab personnel. The caption on the bottom of the photo read:

Just our way of bringing a little bit of Vegas to Resolute Bay
…even if it was unintentional.

Wish you were here!

Greg grinned widely and hit the print button. CSI was a mad-house tonight. Everyone on the team was over-worked, over-stressed and over-tired. This picture might be just the little lift everyone needed before heading home. He snatched the photo from the printer and made the rounds spreading his own brand of Christmas cheer.

A/N: Okay, so F is also for Freddy. Well, you didn’t actually think I would publish an “F” piece without him now, did you? Happy Ho Ho everyone!

Intermezzo Part V, GSR, M

Sat, 05 Dec 2009 14:18:06 GMT

Title: Intermezzo: Part V
Author: danceoftheheart
Rating: M
Spoilers: Anything up to currently Aired USA Season 8 is fair game.
Pairings: GSR
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or its characters. Please do not sue. I don't think either of us would enjoy the experience all that much.

A/N: Computer's almost back to normal. I did lose all of the new work since September. I'm in a reconstuctive phase so bear with me. This was the first piece I managed to pull together. I'm hoping to post a little Freddy later on today as well. Oh, and along with my computer, my mail server went caput. I lost all of my emails and more importantly, the wonderful comments I handn't managed to catch up on. I read every single one and if I can work my way through, I'll try to catch up with the various posts. Again, thanks.

Intermezzo

Part V

Gil was back in next to no time, kit in hand. I waited patiently as he dug through his case and withdrew some familiar implements. As he went through the motions of donning gloves and preparing tape strips, I checked out his equipment layout, suddenly as curious about his work habits as I was about the man himself. His kit was meticulously organized…more so than mine and that was saying something. “Wow. And the guys at the lab think I’m a neat-freak. You could give lessons.”

He grinned evilly. “I do. In fact, my supervisor at the lab…” he paused for a second as he checked his brush, “…Jim Brass…has me do the orientation for our new lab recruits before they make their first trip into the field.”

Having met Jim, I wasn’t really surprised that he would have passed that duty on. He seemed to me to be a supervisor who was more involved in the physical and personal parts of CSI work rather than the technical. A leader to be sure but one who knew how to use the strengths of his team to get the job done. Someone who would be comfortable delegating responsibility to make his team that much more effective. “So, you put them through their paces, huh?”

He nodded. “We’ve adopted the boy scout motto.”

“’Be prepared.’”

“Yes. For anything and then some. Sara, I had to deal with some pretty bizarre cases in Los Angeles but Vegas…well, Vegas is another story all together. You never know what that city is going to throw at you and when you consider the desert and mountainous regions…well, there’s no room for error. We’re fighting climate and nature at every turn when we try to gather evidence…not to say that you don’t do that elsewhere in our line of work, but Vegas really challenges you to stay on top of your game.” He grabbed a medium sized jar of print powder and carefully began to unscrew the lid. “I’ll never understand why some investigators let their kits go and show up to scenes unprepared. There’s no excuse for it. Lives depend on what we do…or don’t do. Equipment must be ready and in working order. Supplies must be checked and available at a moment’s notice because you never know what kind of situation you’re going to find yourself in from one scene to the next.”

“Preaching to the choir, Gil. Believe me, I’ve had a stomach-full of sloppy-“ I broke off as he’d worked the lid free of the canister and pulled it free to reveal a finely ground red powder. “What in the world is that?”

“Print powder,” he answered casually…too casually.

I rolled my eyes. “Well…yes…I sort of figured that out but it’s red! Where on earth did you get red print powder?”

“It’s something I’ve been working on.”

“Details, Gil.”

“I call it, ‘Red Creeper’. Here, hold out your hand.” He dipped his brush into the dust and then held it above my palm. With a little twirl, he released some of the powder into my hand so I could feel the consistency.

I swirled my finger through it. “Hmmm. Nice. Really fine grain. Magnetic?”

“Yes. I find it adheres better to porous surfaces…like paper and cardboard. Mind you, I use it on plastics as well. This particular formula has surprised me more than once. It’s not quite where I want it just yet but I have a feeling, with a little more work, I’ll get exactly the composition I want.” He positioned his brush a quarter of an inch or so above my sketch book and let the powder sift through the air.

I watched it settle, the screaming red against the harsh black lines of my pencil sketch, transfixed. The paper bled powdered clouds. Bile rose in my throat at the sight. For some reason, despite the fact that I often added red tinting to my drawings, this was…this was hard to stomach, probably because, as opposed to the pencil I normally used, I had no control over where the powder went.

Gil lifted the book off the deck and blew on it gently, then tipped the book to one side to allow the loose powder to slide free. He leaned back to study the results, showing me the book as well. Frowning he said, “Well, we knew that there would be some prints…smudges…from your handling.”

I nodded. “They’re pretty jumbled. Not really clear or distinct but that makes sense considering the way I hold the pad when I sketch.” In fact, there wasn’t one intact print to be had. You could see that I’d handled the page multiple times and that there were blurred impressions from where the side of my hand had rested or moved across the paper. Nothing really stood out. “The prints are pretty much where you’d expect them to be.”

Gil considered the picture for another moment and then shrugged. “It was a long shot at best, I suppose. We could print more of the book-“

I shook my head, the reaction immediate and without conscious thought. “No. I don’t think so. We’d most likely get more of the same.” I took it from his hands and shook as much of the powder free as I possibly could. “I should put this in a baggie or something. The powder will get all over my clothes otherwise.”

“So that’s it. That’s all you have to say?”

“What else is there to say? I told you before that I have no idea…at least no recollection of how this got outside.” I said this without looking at him while rising to my feet and heading through our room to the kitchen. He followed behind me, physically as silent as could be but that didn’t mean I couldn’t hear him thinking. I went to the first set of pantry doors and opened the one I knew had a supply of food storage bags inside and slipped the item in question into the plastic envelop with a little more force than necessary. I zipped it closed and repeated the action with a second bag. When I reached for a third, Gil broke his silence.

“Don’t you think you’re overdoing it a bit?”

I shook my head slowly, going so far as to add a fourth bag. “I need a stapler…or at least some tape.”

Sensing there was something more to what I was doing that what he’d first assumed, Gil moved to the side and pulled both of my requested items from a cabinet overhead and to the left. He presented the items to me without comment and waited as I punctured the bag with several staples and then sealed the edge with tape. When I would have turned away without a word, he stayed my hand with his, covering mine where it had landed on the counter. “Difficult to open and will make noise if you attempt to do it. You’re hoping that if you are sleepwalking, this will wake you up?”

“Or you. I don’t know what’s happening here, Gil. And I want to know. I need to know. If I can figure out what’s going on, I’m sure I’ll be able to deal with it and move past it.”

We went back to the bedroom and I put the sketchbook back in my usual place at the bottom of my suitcase, very aware of Gil’s presence and the knowledge that I was letting him know in a rather obvious manner where I kept it. When at last I straightened from that task, I faced him, arms folded and asked, “Up for a walk?”

“Yeah. Give me a minute to change.”

* * * * * * *

I had trouble sleeping the next few nights. While I wasn’t bothered with nightmares per se, I was definitely anxious and filled with a nervous energy that wasn’t conducive to a good night’s rest. That damn book had me so on edge I almost threw it in the trash. The only reason I didn’t was that I was hoping for some clue as to the strange events that had happened in the last couple of weeks. Still, my body was a bundle of nerves several times over. Luckily for me, my brilliant boyfriend was more than willing to help…um…channel that energy into a few nocturnal activities that left me deliciously exhausted so I slept whether I really wanted to or not. However, the sleep was usually on the short side and I routinely woke a good hour before he did, too fidgety to stay in bed.

My ribs had healed enough that some of my basic yoga moves were no longer painful so I used the time I had to myself to work out. The pace was painstakingly slow in comparison to my normal pace but well worth it in the end. The injuries had tightened my muscles and thrown my body out of alignment. The stretching and balance exercises went a long way in helping me feel more like my old self and it was through this routine I managed to find an inner peace that had been alluding me since we’d discovered the sketchbook on the deck.

It was during one of these sessions that I managed to formulate a game plan of sorts. We were due to head back to our respective jobs the day after next and though the thought of being separated from Gil was beyond painful, I knew that it was probably necessary until I could gain some perspective. I had made the decision that I was definitely going to go back to therapy. For the first time in my life, I wanted a future and the only way that there was any hope in forging something solid and lasting was for me to do a little mental house-keeping. Gil and I were getting closer and closer and I could see that he was ready to move to the next step. There were times when I caught him watching me with this far off glint in his eyes and I knew…I knew he was thinking about making our arrangement something more…permanent. There was something extra in his touch…his smiles… a warmth and tenderness that often left me speechless with their intensity. I literally didn’t know how to respond to those deep displays of affection but I craved them more than air to breath.

What’s more is he was dropping little suggestions here and there…to let me know quite deliberately that the ‘ball was in my court’ as to how things proceeded from this point. He knew I had some doubts as to my future at SFPD and whether or not I really wanted to continue with the CSI training or pursue my Doctorate in Theoretical Physics. He knew my family, upset by recent events, was trying to pressure me into a less dangerous career path and could see that it was having an impact on my resolve to stay in Forensic Sciences. Money wasn’t really an issue for me. I lived simply enough and the trust fund my grandparents had set up when I was born gave me just enough financial stability to leave my options wide open. He dropped casual hints about taking a leave of absence from the SFPD lab…visiting him for an extended stay in Las Vegas…the idea of taking a course or two at the University of Nevada…thought we joked about that and wondered if I shouldn’t take some psych courses instead considering where I would be living…and I have to admit his suggestions were proving to be quite the temptation. I had agreed to think about what he said and he had given me the space I needed to do it.

He was fast becoming the centre of my little universe, a position I had once sworn no man would fill. I had thought that being this open and connected to a man would make me vulnerable and weak. Defenseless. And maybe this might have been the case with another man but not with Gil. Not with him. He loved me exactly as I was…flaws and short-comings aside…and admired me for my independence and intelligence. Cherished the differences we had. I suppose it was because I did the same for him. Unconditional love, a concept that I’d only experienced in my bond with my adoptive parents, was there, waiting for me to accept it. And I wanted to. I wanted to more than anything else in the world but I was so afraid I wasn’t ready for it. So afraid that I would hurt him that I knew I would do anything to help this relationship grow. This discovery astonished me but not as much as the realization that I would do everything in my power to protect this bond that we shared and the person who shared it with me. I was committed…but I needed to make sure that I was strong enough to take the next step.

Anyway, it was for this reason (the need to go back to therapy and move forward with Gil) that I was glad that our respite was coming to an end. I needed to get back to work and sort out a few things…deal with Matt…clear my files…but more importantly, I needed the time to think.

On our last night, we decided to go out to dinner. There was a tiny Italian place that Gil’s family favored that was intimate and quiet and perfectly charming. Gil was greeted by name and a few hearty hugs and I was welcomed with warmth and genuine pleasure. We enjoyed fabulous seafood with heaping platters of richly flavored pasta and we laughed and talked and grinned our way through three courses.

We drove back towards the house leisurely, the backseat of our car filled with take-out trays of leftovers, stopping once along the way to take a walk under the light of the bright full moon. When we got home we made love like there was no tomorrow and then drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms.

I was so happy and content, that I thought I would sleep the morning away but somewhere around five am I was startled awake by the thought that we’d left all of that delicious food in the car and that if I didn’t want to spoil I needed to fetch it and put it in the refrigerator.

Gil felt me move the second I shifted in the bed. “Sar?”

God, he looked so adorable and rumpled I couldn’t resist bending down and giving him a kiss, but when he reached for me, I laughed softly and pulled away. “Just a sec, Gil. We forgot the food in the car. Be right back.”

“Hmmph…okay…” he said, with a sleepy little rumble. “Hurry back.”

“I will.” And I did. Though it took me a few minutes to find his keys in the jumble of clothes we’d strung from the front door to the bedroom, I finally managed and made short work of rescuing the containers and slipping them in the refrigerator. I snagged a bottle of water, swigged a few greedy gulps and grabbed another for Gil before heading back to the bedroom. Gil was snoring by the time I got back. I giggled softly at the sight of him sprawled over the entire breadth of the bed with his arm flung across his brow. I was about to climb in with him when the fluttering of the patio curtain caught my attention.

I frowned. We hadn’t left the glass doors open. In fact, I remembered checking to make sure the panels were locked and closed. In the space of a breath, my whole perception of the room shifted. The air sported a dangerous tickle. Shadows crawled along the walls and I reached for my gun. Silently I opened the nightstand drawer where I kept it. I drew the weapon from its holster and hoisted it at the ready to my shoulder. Ghost-like steps brought me closer to the window, and I breathed in shallow unperceivable breaths as I approached. I squinted through the delicate nylon sheers, careful to stay well hidden in the confine of the shadows. The world was still save for the crashing waves and the rolling breeze off the bay. I could see no movement. Sense no other presence.

I left my cover, padding over the tracks embedded in the threshold of the door and stepped out into the open. Again, nothing moved. I couldn’t feel a presence no matter how hard I strained. We were alone. I knew that as surely as I knew my own name.

Cursing my imagination for going into hyper-drive, I was just about to go back in when I saw it.

There, in almost precisely the same spot as before was my sketchbook. It was still wrapped and sealed in its multiple bags…still stapled and taped as I remembered it to be…the only difference was that instead of being closed, it was open to Steiger’s picture with the glass sticking out of his chest.

So...hello...and what's new with you?

Mon, 23 Nov 2009 05:48:41 GMT

I'm sure you've noticed that I haven't updated or posted for a while now. As has been the case before, real life sort of ran away with me. Unfortunately, this time, the reason behind the chaos is that a virus snuck into my laptop...we're still not exactly sure of the method of delivery...and pretty much leveled my computer. Full system recovery. After two attempts I finally got it back in my hot little hands.

So, here's the good news. For some strange reason, I actually backed up 95 % of my files in September. I even made hard copies of everything I'd written to date.

The bad news is that the pieces I have been working on since the end of September are either split between my mini computer and a bunch of flash drives in various states of completion or possibly (hopefully not!) locked (LOST) in my hard drive that has had two full system restores. I'm sure you're aware of how difficult it might be to recover these files but I have to try and that means nothing can be loaded or used on my laptop until I do for fear of overwriting said files. SIGH! So, for the last few hours I've been involved in system recovery. No news as of yet if the patient is going to make it.

In the event that I could be successful, I am attempting to recover the files from the hard drive as we speak. If I get lucky, it will save me a few hours on each of my current storylines. If my luck is running along the same lines it has been for the last two weeks, I'll be back at step one (not necessarily the worst place to be because as I said I have notes and partials all over but it's going to take a little time to reconstruct and review).

My apologies up front. There will be another few days delay before any more updates. I will try to update something before the week is out if I can clear up some time to do so.

Thanks in advance for your understanding!

danceoftheheart

The ABC's of CSI: Book III: Cold, Snow and Ice: E is for Eutrapely

Mon, 09 Nov 2009 16:44:40 GMT

Title: The ABC's of CSI: Book III: Cold, Snow and Ice: E is for Eutrapely
Author: danceoftheheart
Rating: M
Spoilers: Anything up to currently Aired USA Season 10 is fair game.
Pairings: GSR
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or its characters. Please do not sue. I don't think either of us would enjoy the experience all that much.

A/N: Fluff, fluff and more fluff. Oh and a little romance tossed in for fun. This series takes up directly where the Jungle Series left off. Gil and Sara are on their way to colder climbs. How will they keep warm? Stay tuned…

E is for Eutrapely

“Okay, wait, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What?”

“’Eutrapely’?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Never heard of it.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. Look at that. Triple score. Excellent.”

“Wait a minute. You can’t take those points. I’m not conceding this word.”

“Why not?” he asked with a sly flick of his eyes.

I propped my chin on my hand and stared him down. “Don’t play games with me-“

He lifted the tiny blue velvet sac and shook it so that the wooden tiles clattered against each other. “I thought that was exactly what I was doing-“

“Smartass. I thought the whole point of our little matchup was to play this game the ‘normal’ way which means we’re restricted to the confines of the English language and one set of tiles.”

He sat back in his chair, swinging the little blue sac around his pointer finger as he did so. “I take it you have a problem with my last play?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, especially since it’s a word that doesn’t exist.”

“Sure it does.”

“Not in the latest edition of Webster’s’ it doesn’t.”

“Since when have we ever confined ourselves to the standard dictionary?”

“That is entirely beside the point-“

He barked a laugh. “In what universe is that beside the point-?“

“-but I suppose what I should have said is that it doesn’t exist period,” I continued, ignoring his interruption all together.

“No, not true.” He practically sang that at me and I knew then and there that I’d been set up to lose from the first draw.

“Really.”

“Yes, really.”

“How come I’ve never heard of it?”

“It’s an older word, not commonly used now, but it was at one time.”

“Definition?”

“Eutrapely: Aristotle's word for pleasantness in conversation: wit, repartee; liveliness; urbanity in conversation. It’s said to be one of the seven moral virtues that Aristotle enumerated. In the New Testament this word was used to mean 'reprehensible levity of speech'. Want me to use it in a sentence?”

“No. I can see that that would be a waste of breath.” I had to giggle. He looked so damn cute in those glasses with that challenging smirk on his face. “Oh, Gil, I know I’ve been on a bit of a streak lately, but really, I never thought you’d resort to cheating to win a silly little word game.”

He looked so-ooo offended! “It’s not cheating. The word is genuine.”

“I’m sure that in some weird word-origins text that it is but the fact that you were able to pull that definition up so easily…well, it would make anyone suspicious, now wouldn’t it?” He wisely refrained from answer that little jab. “You know, this is the third time this evening we’ve ended up debating a word.”

“Yes, I know.” There was that wicked grin again.

“Hmmm, don’t you sound smug?”

“Do I?” he asked as he pulled new tiles from the velvet sac to replace the few he’d used.

“And more than a little proud of how you’ve outmaneuvered me. You’ve really outplayed me tonight.”

He shrugged, arranging his new tiles on his playing stand. “I think I’m due, especially since, for the first time this week, I’ve got you by almost a forty point spread.” He tapped the pad deliberately in emphasis.

“A fact that has not escaped my notice,” I returned dryly. “If I didn’t know better, I’d be forced to come to the conclusion that you’ve actually gone as far as to memorize some legal, but extremely obscure words in advance to orchestrate just such a situation as the one we currently find ourselves in but I do know better, don’t I? I mean, that kind of pre-game preparation would seem a little oh, um, how do I put this? Hmmm? Obsessive? Pitiable?”

His face took on a hunter’s grimace. “Listen closely, my dear. When one is playing a word game against an opponent who practically has the entire Webster’s Dictionary memorized word for word, and probably Oxford and Cambridge as well for all I know, one tends to resort to strategy in order to gain an advantage.”

My mouth did a rather impressive carp imitation but I managed to answer, “My memory’s good, but you’re exaggerating just a little bit, don’t you think?”

He slapped a hand down on the paperback dictionary we always kept handy and opened it to a page at random. “On what page would I find the following words: microburn, microfication, minimalist, and minionette?” When I stared back at him mutely, he prodded, “You know, don’t you? You actually know the page number.”

“Yes. Oh god! I didn’t even know I did but I do! I’m such a freak!” I dropped my head into my hands and laughed till my stomach hurt.

He tossed the book over his shoulder, laughing just as hard. “How the hell am I supposed to compete with that?”

“I guess by being the cunning and super sneaky genius you are.” I wriggled my finger and he obligingly bent closer. “In lieu of the fact that we’ve got very few tiles left and it’s highly doubtful I’ll be able to make up that point spread this late in the game, whatsay I surrender this round to you and we engage in an activity where we’re a little more evenly matched?”

“Would this be an unconditional surrender?” he asked, daring me to answer.

I pretended to think about it…for all of ten seconds. “Yes,” I replied softly, running my foot up the length of his leg. “’To the victor, the spoils…’ and all that. Do you accept?”

He nodded slowly, his hand capturing mine to place a languid, earthy kiss in the heart of my palm. “Only a fool wouldn’t, and I’m no fool.”

“I didn’t think so.” I gently withdrew my hand and stood up, supposedly to stretch after sitting for such a long time, but truthfully to tease knowing he’d be watching my every move. “Glad we got that sorted out. Now all we have to do is see if you’re fast enough to take advantage of your win.” And with that I took off for our bedroom at full speed.

He caught up with me just as I was about to close the door and tackled me to the bed. “You let me win,” he said in a breathless accusation as he peppered my skin with fluttery kisses.

It was my turn to be smug. “Ya, I did. Any complaints?”

He paused, his eyes sliding over my form possessively. “Like I said, I’m no fool.” His hand slid slowly up my leg and found its way under the silken sheath of my nightie to cup me intimately. My breath shuddered and caught as his fingers played against the intensely sensitive folds of my skin. I writhed against the cool of the linens and his eyes gleamed as he drank in my helpless response.

I pulled him closer for a kiss, thrilling in the taste and feel of him against my skin. “I don’t know, Gil,” I murmured into his neck as he settled more deeply between my legs. “Sometimes I wonder how bright either of us really are.”

He pulled back, eyeing me suspiciously. “Why do you say that?”

I combed my fingers through his hair and then cupping his chin arched up to give him another sultry…slightly needy…kiss. “Hmmm…because only a couple of fools would waste so much time playing silly word games when they could be doing this.”

His answering smile was quick and wolfish as he swooped down and did his best to prove my point.

Intermezzo: Part IV, GSR, M

Mon, 09 Nov 2009 04:11:07 GMT

Title: Intermezzo: Part IV
Author: danceoftheheart
Rating: M
Spoilers: Anything up to currently Aired USA Season 8 is fair game.
Pairings: GSR
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or its characters. Please do not sue. I don't think either of us would enjoy the experience all that much.

A/N: This part has been a while in coming...but I'll guarentee it consumed me for the better part of two weeks. Sorry for the delay.

Intermezzo

Part 4

Later, that night, when Gil and I returned from the beach, we made slow, sensuous, heart-felt love; the kind that seeps into your bones in a way that you know you’ll remember those moments for the rest of your life. I don’t know if it was motivated by need…or guilt…or desperation…or maybe a whole combination of those emotions but I do know that I didn’t care. We needed each other…well, I needed him…in a way I’d never needed anyone before and what’s more, I wasn’t afraid to let him know it.

The sad part about the whole thing is that I’m not sure I’d ever been that open…that vulnerable…with another person like that in my entire life.

The best part about it was that I wasn’t scared.

While it was true that I still had no real explanation as to how my sketchbook ended up where it had, none of that mattered because I believed Gil implicitly and there was such a unique freedom in that bond of trust.

It changed me. In little ways, sure, but I noticed them all the same.

I wasn’t as guarded. I didn’t measure every single word that came out of my mouth. In fact, over the course of the next week, I had whole conversations with him that were spontaneous and uninhibited. I didn’t realize I was doing it at first but it came to my attention while we were having lunch a couple of days later when he was telling me about fishing off the docks when he was ten.

“…practically laughing at me, this scrawny ten year old, geeky little kid, with his bargain store pole and his plastic baggie full of processed cheese slices. You could tell they were thinking I was some kind of an idiot.” Gil smiled then, practically laughing at himself.

“Processed cheese? Really?”

“Yeah. Fish around the dock love it. Don’t know why exactly but I do know that I came home with six good size fish for dinner while the other guys, who were using standard bait, came home with one or two.”

I grinned in appreciation. “Let me guess, next day some other were trying the cheese bait too?”

Gil nodded smugly. “Had the whole dock gang converted by the end of the week. They still thought I was a little strange, and way too quiet, but had to give me credit for the way I could fish.”

“Cheese slices. Don’t think I would have ever thought of that. I suppose you did some experiments and compiled extensive data…” I broke off as he shook his head. “Okay, then what?”

“I went down to the dock earlier that week…my grandfather wanted me out of the house because he was working through an important part of his latest thesis paper…” he said so matter-of-factly that my heart lurched in sympathy for the loneliness buried in his words. “Anyway, I packed myself a sandwich and decided to go fishing. I was using bait and having no luck so mid way through the day, I dropped my pole and sat down to eat. Part of my cheese sandwich went into the water. Couple of fish swam right up and went after it so I decided to try it on my hook and well…there you go.”

“Oh my gosh, same kind of thing happened to me in the chem lab one day. We weren’t supposed to eat in there but…I was in rush and things weren’t going right and I was putting in every hour I could in the lab to turn things around.”

If Gil felt any surprise regarding the fact that I was adding something personal to the conversations, he kept it well hidden, but I knew it was there all the same. “This was in high school? Sounds more like college.”

I shook my head, downing some of the stew that we’d cooked. “I kind of had special permission because I was working on an extra credit project for my Harvard scholarship and I had access to the lab at all hours to complete it.”

Gil leaned in, totally absorbed by the fact that I was voluntarily telling a story from my childhood. “I would have killed to have that kind of access.”

I shrugged. “I had an ‘in’. Lexie was my science teacher and she really knew her stuff. She had a couple of students looking to careers in science. We all had access when we needed it. She was behind us all the way. She has good instincts…especially when it comes to teenagers and how they’re wired.” Without warning an image of the now deceased Rick Spalding danced in my mind’s eye. I looked away instinctively, not ready to share that story just yet and went on with my narrative. “Had me figured out before I knew what the hell was going on. She’s one in a million.”

“She cares a lot about you. And she’s very proud of your accomplishments.”

I flushed a little at the comment. “My very own personal cheering squad. I don’t know what would have happened to me without her coming into my life when she did.”

“Go on,” he urged and the shocker was that I did.

“Well, I hit a snag at one point…I can’t remember why exactly, but one of the chemicals had an adverse reaction to what I had assumed was going to happen. I know I made a rookie mistake of panicking and adding more without really thinking about it and then in seconds knew I’d totally ruined hours worth of work by jumping the gun. Anyway, I’d been eating, you know, making the most of my wait time while the chemicals ‘reacted’ with each other and part of my sandwich dropped into the mixture when I messed up but I got the reaction I wanted! Or close enough to it to make me sit up and take notice. Figured out after that my starch and protein levels hadn’t been in the right proportion in order to balance out the effects of the other chemicals. Don’t know if it would have been that obvious if I hadn’t ‘contaminated’ my results. I had to start back at scratch but at least I knew where I’d gone wrong in the first place.” I looked up from my soup and caught him staring at me with a sweet but goofy expression on his face. “What?”

He shook himself out of it and said, “Nothing. Just trying to picture you as a teenager in your high school chem lab. Though truthfully, it really isn’t that much of a stretch.” His eyes traveled down my form intently, taking in the ponytail, shorts and t-shirt I’d shrugged my way into that morning. The combination had become my standard attire at the beach house because it was cool and comfortable. I didn’t think much about it, but apparently he was still trying to deal with it.

I rolled my eyes. “Please, not one of my better memories.”

“I bet you were cute.”

“Try too skinny, too tall and all angles.”

He stood and rounded the table to my side and then bent to paste a sticky kiss on my lips. “Very cute,” he said, decisively and proceeded into the kitchen to start clearing away our mess.

After my stomach had stopped its silly, ridiculously happy flip-flopping, I joined him. It wasn’t until later that I’d realized how easy it had been to talk to him about my high school years. Now, admittedly, it wasn’t anything of real significance, like the explosion that took the football captain’s life or Lexie’s terrible fight back to health, but it was more than I’d shared with anyone else and I had to be satisfied with that.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Sara?”

“MMMmmph?”

“Sara, I need you to come out here for a moment, please.”

I blinked, and made a half-assed slap for the alarm clock. I located it on the third attempt and squinted at the numbers until they swam into focus. 5:00 am. What the hell was he doing up at 5:00 am? Realizing I hadn’t asked that question out loud, I rolled over and diplomatically choked out. “Gil… little early. Can’t it wait?”

“No. Please.”

There was something in his tone that had me pulling back the sheets without another word. I swung my robe away from the chair I’d laid it on last night and scuffed my way to the patio door. I padded over to his side without a sound and looked around. My scan of the deck hadn’t progressed far before I caught sight of what had obviously alarmed him enough to wake me from a deep sleep at this awful hour. “Well…shit.”

“Yeah. My thought too.”

“What is it doing here?”

He sighed, then, scrubbing a hand over his cheek. “I don’t know. I got up to get a drink of water and noticed the paper flapping in the breeze. You know, if I had to make a guess, I’d be pressed to say it’s in almost the same place I found it the other morning.” He looked at me then, asking without words if I knew anything about it.

I found my head shaking before I even realized I was doing it. “I don’t-I don’t know what to say. I haven’t used it, Gil. Haven’t even taken it out to look at it. I said I wouldn’t.” In the four days since our little ‘discussion’ on the beach, Gil and I had come to an agreement about my nightmares…well, I suppose with regard to his too, though that hadn’t really been the subject under discussion at the time. The deal was that if I did wake up in the middle of the night, I was supposed to wake him too…and the ‘vice versa’ thing was certainly implied.

What happened next was up to us. We could talk…we could just roll over and go back to sleep. Didn’t matter. If I still felt the need to go sketch, I could. No problem. He just wanted to be included in the process. I agreed…reluctantly at first…but then the idea sort of grew on me and I began to feel a little better about it. There was a certain sense of comfort to the idea that I wouldn’t be facing this stint of dreams alone…and since we’d both been involved, there was no guilt about involving an innocent bystander in my problems. Definitely a first for me.

According to Gil, the important thing was that we weren’t hiding things from each other and on that point I certainly had to agree.

That first night, I was startled awake a couple of times, which was unusual for me but I attributed that to the restlessness I was feeling about our ‘new approach’ and the fact that I actually tried to go back to sleep after the moment had passed. We did exchange words of comfort…but for the most part, after I calmed enough to temper my nerves, we just held each other. That in and of itself was a huge break-through for me. Intimacy was always a struggle for me, especially when I was feeling so exposed and vulnerable but in that quiet, accepting way of his, Gil selflessly let me set the pace and I was able to deal.

When this all started, he had called it an ‘experiment’. I had silently called it a waste of time because I’d tried various therapeutic rituals before but I was pleased to find out that at least in some small way, I’d been wrong. Just goes to show you the difference one person – the right person – can make in your life. Besides, at the end of our chat, I had decided that it wouldn’t hurt to give him exactly what he asked for. After all, if he was still interested in pursuing a relationship with me, he might as well know exactly what he was getting into, right?

Needless to say, neither one of us had gotten much sleep in the past three nights but at least it felt like we were trying to deal with the problem rather than burry it and pretend that it didn’t exist. I really felt like we – well, ‘I’ – was making progress. At least I did, until I saw the sketchbook.

I bent at the knee, my intention to pick up the pad and close it but stayed my hand when he said, “No. Wait.”

From my crouch I looked up at him and asked, “Why?”

“You’re sure you didn’t touch it?”

I was going to answer positively but a nagging little doubt had me phrase my answer differently, “I don’t – I don’t think I did. Well, not consciously.” I sat back on my heels, wrapping my arms around my knees. “Maybe I am sleep-walking. Cripes. That’s all I need.”

“Agreed, but…though it seems like a logical explanation, I’m not inclined to just accept it to be true. Listen…let me grab something from my kit.”

My head dropped back as a laugh gurgled in my throat. “Your kit? You brought your kit with you when we were supposed to be on vacation.”

He flashed a grin at me. “Yeah. So did you, right?”

Caught, I smirked back at him. “Of course. You never know-“

“-when something might come up.” He shook his head and continued out of the room. “We’re seriously messed up, you know.”

“Oh, I know.” I frowned down at the book. My brain had finally managed to catch up to the current course of events. Gil was getting his kit. A natural assumption was that he suspected that the book had had help getting out here and that he suspected it might have been by someone else’s hand than ours. Suddenly, the morning air took on a chill that had nothing to do with the cool breeze that rolled in off the coastal waves. Have to admit the thought of me sleep-walking didn’t bother me nearly so much in comparison to the idea that someone was in our home without our knowledge. I swallowed down a huge gulp of following up thoughts, determined not to let myself get carried away with this line of assumptions. There would be time enough for that kind of worry if and when Gil came up with something that warranted it.

Follow the Leader Part XXIII, GSR, Casefile, M

Mon, 26 Oct 2009 03:44:41 GMT

Title: Follow the Leader Part XXIII
Author: danceoftheheart
Rating: M
Spoilers: Anything up to currently Aired USA Season 8 is fair game.
Pairings: GSR
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or its characters. Please do not sue. I don't think either of us would enjoy the experience all that much.

A/N: This one takes place in the same little ‘universe’ as my Bed of Roses series. Gil and Sara are married and still working at the lab. Ecklie is Sara’s immediate supervisor and this case file happens somewhere between their first and second anniversaries.

Follow the Leader
Part XXIII

I leaned back against the elevator hand rail, watching the numbers blink as we passed the various floors. “It’s weird.”

“What is?”

I shrugged. “I don’t remember the last time that we were both this early for shift. It feels weird.”

“I remember.”

“Yes?”

“It was a month or so before we got married. We thought we should have the courtesy to tell Ecklie in person.”

“Oh. Yeah. You’re right.” The thought of that meeting made me grin. “We thought he would give us hell about it, right?”

“Yes.”

“But he didn’t did he?”

“No, he seemed to be genuinely happy for us. Even met us for drinks with the rest of the gang after shift.”

“Yes, he did. I remember being totally surprised by his easy acceptance of the whole thing.” I could see his face even now as he shook Gil’s hand. “Frankly, I think he was just happy to have the whole thing made official. Easier on all fronts, I would think.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, in order to make our marriage work in a professional capacity, I pretty much had to accept the supervisor position he’d offered me which meant that I wasn’t officially in the field all the time and technically, not really his responsibility any more. Yes, I still answer to him in one respect but I’m sure I don’t give him half the headaches I used to and even better, he doesn’t have to deal with my fallout. Until…now…that is.”

“Let’s not borrow trouble.”

“That’s hardly apt, Gil. Borrowing implies something will be returned. So far, we’re the only ones who’ve been on the receiving end.” The elevator doors flashed open and we emerged from solemn quiet of our cabled, steel cocoon to the ruckus of raised voices shouting over each other for dominance.

We glanced at each other, utterly at sea over the strange and unusual disturbance and approached the reception area with a fair degree of caution. “Judy?” No response from our receptionist. “Judy?” I asked again and this time got her attention.

“Sara! Dr. Grissom. I didn’t realize you’d come in.” She looked a little flushed, obviously embarrassed to have been caught eaves dropping as she was.

Gil collected his messages and mail, tilting his head in the direction of the racket as he did so. “Sounds serious down there.”

“It is. They’ve been at it for almost forty minutes now.”

“’They’?” I questioned, too caught up in the moment to ‘pretend’ to be casual like Gil. As if he could read my thoughts, he looked up at me with a sly glint in his eyes. I almost laughed in appreciation. Judy missed the byplay entirely. “ Oh yes, Captain Brass, Supervisor Ecklie, Catherine Willows…the two agents from the FBI…the IA rep…gosh, I think even Greg Saunders is in there. Oh, and um…the ah, Under Sheriff’s son…” she drifted off with a shrug, and I could tell that she was wondering if she were speaking out of turn.

Gil caught her discomfort right away. “We may not have known who the two Federal agents were, but everyone else would have been known to us right off.”

I leaned in on her counter in a chummy way. “Any idea why Ecklie’s playing host to such an eclectic group?” I had a good idea but it didn’t hurt to ask just to be sure.

“Well, they’re having a…difference of opinion.”

“About?”

“Well, you…and Dr Grissom…oh, and the ceremony tomorrow for the Under-Sheriff.”

“I figured about the first part, but why are they at odds about the ceremony? I thought everything was set up to go.”

Judy frowned, obviously perturbed not to be on top of things. “I’m not exactly sure. I couldn’t hear anything at first and when the shouting started everyone was yelling over top one another. It’s hard to make out anything other than the occasional name the way they’re going at each other.”

“Well I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough. Thanks, Judy.” I snagged my messages and stuffed them in my tote without even giving them a glance.

“You’re welcome,” she replied, her attention already drifting back to Ecklie’s ‘conference’.

Gil and I walked towards the din with measured steps. “You know, one part of me’s very curious about what’s going on but another part…” I shook my head. “Maybe, if we wait long enough, they’ll resolve all of the problems without us. Send us a memo about the outcome.”

Gil, being Gil, played devil’s advocate as if I’d been serious about my suggestion. “Then we’d have to send a memo back, stating whether or not we agreed with the outcome and that would get another back in reply…which let’s face it, will probably end up in another meeting just like this one so….let’s drop our things in our offices, grab some coffee and get this the hell over with so we can get on with more important things, like running the lab.”

“Put like that, I have to admit your way sounds the lesser of the two evils. Plus it has that coffee incentive…so, yep, you win.”

Ten minutes would pass before we found ourselves outside Ecklie’s door. We were still early for our pre-arranged meet time with the lab supervisor but like Gil had said, we both had a vested interest in getting this behind us. I rapped my knuckles against the frame and for the first time since we’d arrived at the lab, everyone grew silent and turned their heads to the door. Conrad, who had been on his feet, hands braced on his desk, straightened from his defensive pose and looked almost happy to see us. “Gil, Sara, you’re here. Good. Maybe now this conversation can move forward rather than round and round in circles as it has been.”

“Who are these people?” a middle aged man in an expensively tailored suit asked. His face sported a thick, mustard blonde mustache and bushy eyebrows of the same tint that reminded me a little of Yosimite Sam in style. His manner was every bit as aggressive as the cartoon villain as well. “Are these the people at the centre of all this controversy?”

“Yes, yes,” Conrad answered irritably. “Agents Steven and Nash, meet Dr. Grissom and his wife, Sara Sidle-Grissom. They’ve had a difficult go of it in the last week.”

Stevens gave Ecklie what must have been the Federal equivalent of an ‘eye-roll’ and pounced. “Perhaps not difficult enough considering the fact that they are both implicated-“
“They’re being set-up!” Brass jumped in, his face a little florid. “Damn it, get off it will you? It’s been a set up from the start.”

“And you have in contributable proof of their innocence, Captain?”

Catherine took that one on. “Not yet, but we will.”

“Besides, we know these people,” Brass continued, trying to gain some modicum of control.

“Perfect. An excellent response to the accusations of ‘cover-up’. We know these people so we’re certain they didn’t do it. Like that’s going to fly,” the agent tossed back making absolutely no effort to be professional. “Four dead bodies and that’s the best you can do?”

Ecklie tried to make some headway. “For now, Stevens. We need a little time.”

“To what? Cover your tracks?” Stevens fired back, not willing to give an inch.

Ecklie was about to respond but the Internal Affairs representative raised her hand and spoke for the first time since we came into the fray. “That’s enough. I expect everyone here to take their seats and start acting with a little decorum or this ‘meeting’ is over with here and now.” For a moment I felt sure that Agent Stevens was going to stand his ground but to my surprise, he sat, albeit grudgingly, when she said, “Allow me to remind you that you are in attendance here out of a professional courtesy we’ve extended to you and your partner. Should your presence preclude us from continuing our examination of these matters, you will be asked to leave and be left out of the discovery process completely.” Others followed his lead and soon the fractious energy in the room had dissipated to a much more tolerable level of intensity. Only she remained standing.

I have to admit I was surprised that our IA rep had that sort of control over these proceedings but I was wise enough to keep my mouth shut until I heard what she had to say.

“As I was saying before you and your group entered this office un-announced, Internal Affairs is watching over this case with due diligence. Every effort is being made to assure that all the evidence is being processed properly and that the reputations of the people involved are being protected until all vital information is recorded and examined. I realize that we have in our possession material evidence and reports that you and your colleagues need to have access to and I am willing to make concessions to aid you in your efforts but not at the expense of this lab’s reputation and well-fare. There is a possibility of substantial fallout in this matter, gentlemen, and it is my duty to make sure the impact to the lab is as minimal as I can possibly make it. We have to keep sight of the big picture here. If evidence continues to come to light with regard to McKeen’s…after hours activities and connections…and the news goes public pre-maturely…every case that the lab has worked on during his term in office will be open to scrutiny. That is something I’m sure none of us want to contend with. This information will be verified, checked and re-checked before anything is released from this department to any others. Too many lives and sensitive materials are at stake.” After having said her piece to the agents, she turned to Ecklie and said, “I’ll expect a full report at close of shift.” She started for the door pausing at the threshold to say, “Agents Stevens and Nash, if you’ll come with me to my office, I will be glad to give you an over-view of the evidence we have verified so far and the current state of our investigations. We can also discuss your concerns, Mr. Mckeen.” With that she left and the other men had no choice but to follow in her wake.

“Wow,” Catherine said. “I wanna be her when I grow up. What was her name again?”

“Elizabeth Allen.”

Catherine grinned. “I had no idea IA had that much control.”

Conrad Ecklie shook his head. “Normally, it doesn’t but in this case…oh, hell. Let’s just say that some information has come to our attention since the passing of the Under-Sheriff that has everyone in our department digging in and frankly…there aren’t many people I know that are willing to go up against Elizabeth Allen in a fight over jurisdiction and due process. Not only is she absolutely brilliant but she’s got both a law degree and a master’s in criminalistics. Add a serious ethical streak and a temper to match and you’ve got a combination that would terrify anyone stupid enough to get on her bad side.”

“So are we?” I asked, determined to get to the point of this meeting.

“On her bad side?” Conrad chuckled. “Not yet. She’s…how did she put it? She’s ‘concerned’ about the vagueness of certain details surrounding the incidents you’ve both been involved with so far but she believes as we all do that there is something much more complex working in these matters and that you two are unfortunately caught in the middle. However, I have been informed that should it turn out that the evidence starts to turn out to be anything more than circumstantial, she will be on the two of you like flies on honey. Her words, not mine,” he said with a broad grin.

“Well that’s a relief, I suppose,” I said, looking at Gil for his agreement.

“Yes, it is,” he said. “Conrad, what was all that talk about McKeen’s after hours activites? And what exactly is the FBI’s interest in this investigation?”

Conrad picked up a pencil and balanced it between his fingers. “I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to disclose any information on that area at this time. However, I don’t think it will be long before those details are released.”

“So that’s it then?” I asked.

“For now. If you haven’t started doing so, I need you two to put together a log of activities and incidents…anything related to these cases and what you’ve been involved in. Every detail you can remember…both from a professional stand-point and a personal one. Depending on how this all settles out, that log might be important. That goes for the rest of you too. Pay particular attention to the details about McKeen’s interactions with you.” Conrad’s eyes glittered with a fire that at first I had a hard time interpreting but later realized had seemed almost predatory. It was an expression I’d only seen occasionally from Ecklie and I wondered at it because it really seemed to me that he had as much a personal stake in this mess as we did. For all we knew, he did.

We all nodded our agreement and filed out of his office, more than a little confused by the turn of events. Without verbal consensus, we somehow ended up in Grissom’s office with the door closed for privacy, and held our own little impromptu meeting.

“I was surprised to see all of you here. Sara and I were under the impression that we were being called in for a private meeting with an IA rep.”

“I’m sure that was the original intent, Gil,” Catherine said, helping herself to a bottle of water from Grissom’s mini fridge. “But we got wind of a possible ambush and decided you two might need some back up.”

“I don’t understand,” I said, downing a little of the luke-warm coffee that had been sitting in my mug for close to thirty minutes.

“Let’s just say that the office grapevine is alive and kicking,” Greg said with a smirk.

Gil wasn’t satisfied with that. “Meaning?”

“Meaning, Conrad got wind of an impending invasion from the FBI and decided to call in a little extra fire-power to keep control in our hands rather than theirs.” Catherine winked at us then. “We were only too happy to comply.”

Intermezzo: Part III, GSR, M

Sun, 11 Oct 2009 17:23:49 GMT

Title: Intermezzo: Part III
Author: danceoftheheart
Rating: M
Spoilers: Anything up to currently Aired USA Season 8 is fair game.
Pairings: GSR
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or its characters. Please do not sue. I don't think either of us would enjoy the experience all that much.

A/N: This part has been a while in coming...but I'll guarentee it consumed me for the better part of two weeks. Sorry for the delay.

Intermezzo

Part III

“I thought you were different.” I made to get up but he held me firm.

“Sara-“

“You went through my things!” Once more I pushed at him but with pretty much the same result.

“No I didn’t. What kind of person do you take me for? I would never invade your privacy that way.” His hands found the sides of my face, his touch almost reverent. “Listen…honey…just listen. I wouldn’t-“

“Then how…?”

His hands dropped away after I snapped at him. “It was on the deck this morning, when I got up. Open. Selina’s face screaming up at me in stark black and white!”

“That’s not possible, Gil.”

“Oh believe me, it is.”

My volume level jumped. “No, you’re lying-“

His jumped more. “I’m not lying. Scared the living hell out of me. Half a mug of coffee went all over my clothes.” He took a deep breath, and tried for a calmer tone. “Allow me to congratulate you on the accuracy of your rendering. Believe me when I say I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“You weren’t supposed to.” God, I was practically snarling, I was so…mad. No, not mad. I was hurt. He’d hurt me. I was stupid enough to trust him and he hurt me. Now all I wanted was to hurt him back. Nausea fought with pain and I was ill over the sensation. “Don’t you get it? No one is supposed to. That book was mine you never should have gone poking around in my things like that!”

“I’m telling you I didn’t-“

“But you had to…to see this. I had it tucked away. I always put it back.”

“Well, I guess this is a first for you.”

“No. NO! I didn’t forget! I never forget! I always remember to put it away.”

“Well, maybe this time you were too tired and you did.”

“It’s ingrained. Second nature. I never forget. Nobody’s supposed to see it.”

“Why, Sara? Why is everything such a big secret with you?”

“Leave it alone, Gil.”

“I can’t. This isn’t just going to go away. We have to talk about this.”

“Please…don’t-“

“Why are you so protective over this book? Why?”

“Because nobody understands what it means!” I bellowed, boiling over in frustration. We stared at each other then; two people who rarely had a harsh word between them were suddenly in the middle of a shouting match. No conscious thought at all of who might hear and what they might think. I couldn’t believe I’d let myself get that far out of control. It was my turn to back down. I looked out at the water, watching it rise and fall, knowing he was waiting for me to explain further and too tired to deny him any longer. I’d put this off as long as I could. Maybe this was how it was meant to be. How it was supposed to end for us. “Nobody…understands, Gil. And because they don’t understand it, it scares them. I scare them.”

“Is that what you think? That I’m going to let some drawings chase me away from your side? You do, don’t you? It’s happened before.” He didn’t need me to answer to confirm his theory. “Dammit, this is such a mess. Okay, wait. Let’s get one thing straight here. Yes, the pictures scared me but only because I was scared for you…not of you…do you understand? Do you see the difference?”

I did but I wasn’t convinced. Others had said similar things before and I believed them only to find out later that they’d been trying to manipulate me. Time would tell. It always did. Part of me wanted to say those things out loud just to see his reaction but I knew better. Arguing over this wasn’t the right thing to do. Best to try to control the damage. So, instead I said, as rationally as I could, “You’re telling me that you didn’t go through my suitcase.”

“Yes.”

“How do I know that’s the truth?” I tried to ask the question as honestly as I could…with no accusation. I could tell the sharp blade my words sliced deep but he accepted my need to ask with very little anger. Almost as if he’d expected to me to ask.

“Sara. Look at me. You know in your heart I wouldn’t do that. Not to you or to anybody else for that matter. I know you well enough to know that that would be absolutely the wrong way to deal with this. I get the fact that trust is a very big part of this issue. What would I have to gain?”

I shrugged. “Then I don’t understand this at all. I know I put it away last night. How the hell did it get outside? It just doesn’t make any sense.”

“Have you ever…have you been known to sleep walk?”

I shook my head. “No. From all accounts I’ve never done that. I don’t sleep deeply enough, I guess.” The thought was a bit terrifying because, unfortunately, it was a logical explanation for this strange behavior but I really hoped that that wasn’t the case. “I always wake up in the same place I fall asleep…No, I’m sure someone would have mentioned it before now if I did. There’s been plenty of opportunity,” I finished bitterly.

“Sara…if you didn’t leave it there then I…I don’t have an explanation other than to say again, it wasn’t where you say you left it.” He made a swipe for his backpack and pulled out the item under debate. “This…” he said, holding it out to me, “…was out in the open and…I know I shouldn’t have looked through it but…my god, Sara.” He shoveled a hand through his hair. “There must be fifty sketches in here. Each one more…” He broke off, and I know it was to stop himself from saying the wrong thing.

“They’re awful. I know,” I said, opening the book and thumbing through the pages. I found the picture of Selina Gil had been talking about and eyed it critically. “I can’t get her mouth right, you know? There’s something off about it. I keep going back to this one to try and fix it but...Pretty soon there won’t be much paper left because of all the erasing I’ve been doing.” I flipped through a couple more sketches, stopping a few pages later. Steiger’s prone form with the vicious shard of glass protruding from his chest practically jumped from the parchment. “This one’s just about perfect. Well, it should be. I had quite a bit of time to study him as he died. All that’s missing is the blood. I have a special red pencil for that, but I left it at home so…I haven’t put it in yet.” I looked up from the book quickly, hoping…oh I don’t know…to catch some look of horror or revulsion on Gil’s face…something I could take offense with that would stop me from feeling so exposed…but there was nothing like that there. I saw compassion…not pity. Empathy…not disgust. It confused me and I dropped my gaze first.

He extended a finger and traced the line of Steiger’s shoe. “Is this what you see when you close your eyes-?”

“Currently? Yes.” I threw the book away and it skittered along the sand.

“-why you haven’t slept a full night in bed with me since we came here…what you do all those long hours that you’re away?”

“Yes. Can we go now? I think I’ve had enough beach time for one afternoon.” I pushed my way from his lap and this time he let me go. I began cleaning up our debris and though I didn’t look back at him, I knew his eyes followed my every move. “I’m not one of your bugs under the microscope. You could stop studying me and help.”

“We’ve got time,” he said, not moving. “The boat won’t be back for a couple of hours remember?”

No, I’d forgotten that, I groused silently but didn’t pause in what I was doing. “You could still help.” When he remained as he was, I muttered, “Fine,” and went on with my tidying. “I hope this potato salad will keep. There’s so much here that it’s a shame to waste it.”

“Stop it, Sara.”

“Oh and this chicken, too. Maybe we can find some shade-“

“We’re not done with this.”

I folded a napkin. “Yes, we are.”

“We need to talk about this.”

I folded another. “Maybe you do, but I don’t.”

“So that’s it, hmmm? You’ve made your decision. I don’t get a say in this.”

I threw the rest of the linens into the basket. “No, why should you?”

“Maybe because I was there, Sara! Maybe because I’m the one person on the face of this planet who actually has a clue what you’re dealing with!” He was moving now. In one angry stride he had reached the place where I was kneeling and pulled me up until we were almost nose to nose. “You think you have the monopoly on post-traumatic stress? Do you think that you are the only person here who is having trouble making sense of everything that happened?”

“I-I-“

“This isn’t about ancient history, Sara. You can keep all the secrets about that that you want and I’ll learn to live with it but this is current. This is now! And it’s not just you going through hell but it’s me too. We’re both struggling to find some way to cope with what those two monsters put us through and I don’t understand…” he paused, and shook his head, “…scratch that. I do understand that you’re not used to leaning on anyone else when you’re going through crap like this but I thought…I thought this would be different. I thought we’d be able to help each other. Talk things over. I didn’t think I’d end up facing yet another wall that you’ve erected to keep me out.”

I wanted to tell him he was wrong. I wanted to tell him to leave me alone…but I couldn’t. He was right. I’d shut him out completely…hadn’t even thought about the pain he must be going through because I was so caught up in my own hell I couldn’t see his. What kind of person does something like that to another person? No wonder he was angry. No wonder he pushed me into this confrontation. “Why…why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why didn’t you?” He let go of me, and shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked to the edge of the bluff. “When I saw that picture of Selina…it was like you’d been inside my head and ripped it from my brain. And that one of Steiger…I’ve seen that one too…in here,” he said, tapping a finger to his temple, “…only it’s you lying there instead of him because…I wasn’t there to help you.”

I went to him then, and wrapped my arms around his waist. I burrowed my face into his back trying to erase his hurt. “Gil…I’m so…so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“No, how could you? You weren’t there.” Despite the starkness of his words, his arms came up to encircle mine and held me fast.

Another fanged wave of guilt rode my spine. “You’re right,” I told him. “It was inexcusable. I don’t – I’m not always capable of acting…responsibly…when I’m in this mode, you know? It’s like my survival instinct kicks in and it’s every man for himself. It’s very selfish…very wrong… and I know it’s one of many reasons why I’ve been unable to sustain a steady relationship for any length of time. There aren’t many people who can face the dark things we see without having it warp them in some way. Trust me, I speak from experience.”

“You’ve got to give me a chance, Sara. You’ve got to let me at least try.”

I swallowed hard, feeling tears well up as I answered. “I know I’m not being fair…it’s just…You’re a very strong man, Gil. Intelligent, courageous, moral…every thing I ever hoped for in a friend…and a lover…and the idea of involving you in my problems…it just makes me ill.”

“It’s part of you, Sara. It’s a risk I’m willing to take if it means we can finally get beyond this secrecy.”

“This ugliness follows me around, Gil. It’s like I’m a magnet for it…attracting it no matter how hard I try to escape it.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“I don’t know. I wish I did.” I sighed then, and closed my eyes, clinging to him in every way possible. The breeze rustled through the leaves of the bushes that surrounded us. In the distance I could hear harbor bells and pleasure crafts. The world went on but we stood still.

Gil’s voice, when it came sounded so distant. “I love roller coasters. You know that, right? I’ve told you about that little obsession of mine?”

I nodded against his back but remained silent.

“I love the rush and the noise and the speed and…since I came to work at the lab in Vegas, it’s gotten to the point that I can’t pass a rollercoaster without wanting to drop everything I’m doing and ride until I’m sick.” I felt a little chuckle bubble from him. It was small and cautious but present all the same and it chased off a little of the chill that was coating my insides. “I’ve gotten to be on a first name basis with the operator of the Manhattan Express. That’s the one in front of the New York, New York Hotel and Casino. It shakes a little but it’s a decent ride. There’s this one moment, just before you hit the down where you’re looking out at the skyline and Vegas is this stunning, spectacle of colour and light and you can look past the crime and the filth…and the perversion. Then you’re racing to the earth and it all blurs…and it helps.” His finger began tracing a pattern up and down my arm, delicately, but I’m not even sure he was aware that he was doing it. “You see, it never used to be this bad but some of the crimes we’ve dealt with lately…at the Vegas lab have been…disturbing…more so than what I had to deal with at the last one I worked in. Or at least, they’ve affected me more than the others and I-I have found that I need to ride more often to counter it. Do you see where I’m heading with this?”

I didn’t really but I nodded again just to keep him talking.

Apparently, I didn’t do a good job of fooling him because he said, “I’ve always loved fast rides, Sara. Even when I was a kid. Before I started working in the lab I rode them for the thrill. Now I ride them to forget…until I can’t think. I ride them to block out the terrible things I’ve seen and to gather the strength to face day after day of the same.”

“They’re your sketchbook,” I murmured, awed by how we’d managed to go from anger to empathy in just a matter of seconds.

“In essence, yes. Tell me…is that why you draw? To forget?”

This time I shook my head. “I can’t control my dreams. For as long as I can remember I’ve been prone to nightmares. Some of the professionals I’ve consulted attribute a lot of the blame for it to this crazy…awful…memory I have for details. I notice everything. I don’t mean to...I just can’t seem to filter. I don’t even realize I’m doing it most of the time. And in the dreams…the images are so vivid, Gil. Every detail somehow magnified. I’ve tried just about every method known to man to subvert their effect on me…but nothing’s worked. The only thing that comes close is sketching.”

“Tell me,” he said again, turning around to hold me face to face.

I wished we’d stayed the way we were. Somehow, this made it harder. “I thought I was past this, Gil. Really. If I hadn’t believed I was done with them there’s no way I would have let things go as far as they have-“

His arms wrapped me tightly. “Shhhh. It’s okay. Just…tell me.”

I hesitated, hardly believing I was explaining this but then, the words began tumbling from me and I couldn’t have stopped them if I’d tried. “It’s difficult to…explain…I don’t even really get it myself but it seems like the more images…the more detail I can capture on paper, the less control they have in my subconscious.” I laughed humorlessly. “I mean, I can’t sleep anyway so I might as well be doing something constructive, right? Better than waking up in a cold sweat or screaming your head off and waking up everyone else in the house night after night until they run their course.”

His hand had moved to the small of my neck, treating the knots of tension there with a light massage. “You’re very good.”

“My mother was better.” I said with a shudder, remembering the drawings she papered her asylum wall with. If mine were ‘good’ hers were masterpieces. “I don’t enjoy it, Gil. There have been periods in my life when drawing gave me pleasure but the nightmares have twisted what should have been something enjoyable into something hideous. I do it because I have to. I do it to find a little peace.” The last word was hardly more than a whisper and I let it float away to be swallowed by the sound of the ocean waves. For many minutes we just stood there, intimately entwined, surrounded by the noise of water and the seagulls, eyes closed. I could hear the steady rhythm of his heart beating in his chest and it soothed me, his calm intake of breath and I took strength from its even measure. “Please...don’t ask me anything else. Not right now.”

It took him a second to respond but when he did, it made me love him even more. “No, no more questions. Not right now.” He dropped a kiss into my hair that was so gentle and caring that more tears trickled down my cheeks in response.

“Gil?”

“Hmmm?”

“I’m…I’m sorry-“ I choked out, not exactly sure what I was apologizing for but needing to say the words. The tears were falling fast and furious now and I couldn’t stop them.

“Hey…hey…there’s no need for that. Not here. Not between us.” His voice was almost hypnotic. “I should have handled this better, Sara. I should have waited for you…but it’s done now and I wouldn’t change it because that would mean that my worrying about you would still be eating at me. At least now I know some of what’s going on.” His voice settled into this lilting rumble and I soaked it in, entranced by the soothing sound. “It makes it easier, Sara,” he continued. “So much easier to be able to understand…a little more. Don’t worry about it now, though. Let’s just sit back down and forget all about it.”

“Just like that?” I asked, scrubbing a weary hand across my wet cheek.

“Yes, just like that.” He mimicked my movement on my other cheek and then said, “I want you to try something for me. Can you try something for me?”

“Maybe,” I said, not willing to commit until I knew what he was asking.

He let me go partially to take my head and lead me back to the rock where we’d been sitting. He settled onto the ground, still holding my hand and then looked up at me with such warmth I was undone. “Will you sit with me…and let me hold you until the boat returns? Please?”

My knees went weak and I folded myself into his embrace, overwhelmed by the simple request. “Don’t let go, okay? Just…don’t let go.” My words were a watery jumble but he understood me all the same.

“I won’t, I promise. I’ve got you.”

“This feels so good,” I told him with a hiccupping little yawn, surprised to find that all of the previous awkwardness I’d felt about this position was now gone. “God, I’m tired.”

He wrapped me closer as I relaxed further. “Then close your eyes. Close your eyes and go to sleep.”

I wanted to, believe me, I did, but it wasn’t fair to drift off without giving him fair warning of what might happen.

“Gil…I’m really tired. I don’t know if I can…I don’t know what’s going to happen if I…” I broke off,

“Shhh…doesn’t matter,” he droned back, almost hypnotically. “We’ll deal with whatever happens together. Everything’s okay. Just go to sleep.”

The knot of unease released from the pit of my stomach and I gave myself over to his request, letting his words soothe me into the first really deep sleep I’d had since this whole mess with Selina had begun. Only one little thought hammered at me. Gil had said my sketchpad was found on the deck. If I hadn’t left it behind and he hadn’t retrieved it from my suitcase, how had it gotten there? But then, just as quick as it had sprung into being, it dissipated and I fell fast asleep.

Intermezzo: Part II, GSR, M

Tue, 06 Oct 2009 04:41:59 GMT

Title: Intermezzo: Part II
Author: danceoftheheart
Rating: M
Spoilers: Anything up to currently Aired USA Season 8 is fair game.
Pairings: GSR
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or its characters. Please do not sue. I don't think either of us would enjoy the experience all that much.

Intermezzo

Part II

There is nothing in the world like standing in the bow of a boat feeling the air rush your face as you speed through open water. It’s a sensation that can only be improved by having a strong, firm, masculine frame pressed against yours as it happens. You can imagine how blissfully happy I was at that moment.

It brought back so many memories of the family boat rides we used to take before I went to Harvard. It was probably the one thing I missed most about not living in Tamales Bay (besides Lexie and Zach of course). Zach had a small boat that we would take out four of five times every summer and I would stand at the front, much as I was now, clutching the rail with my eyes closed as the boat zipped through the waves. With all the changes in the past few years, we’d only managed to fit a couple of rides in when I’d visited in between school and work. I hadn’t realized until now how much I missed them. So, there, standing in Gil’s arms, I decided that the next time I talked to Lexie I would make a point of planning a family day trip. Speaking of Gil…maybe I could talk him into coming along.

He seemed so comfortable here as he spoke about points of interest that we passed and told anecdotes about some of the things he used to do as a child. The beach house had belonged to his grandfather then and he had spent the majority of his summers here getting into trouble…as he put it. His mother would come up on the weekends and would spend whatever vacation time she could but for the most part, it was just Gil and his grandfather…fishing, collecting shells on the beach…exploring. It sounded idyllic and I told him so and he shrugged and squeezed me tighter, not answering. I couldn’t see his face so I had to assume that Gil was agreeing with me but I wasn’t sure. Then he dropped back into his narrative and the moment was lost.

“There’s the rock I climbed when I was seven and tumbled down practically the second I got to the top. Lost two teeth in that little adventure,” he murmured in my ear after pointing to the shore. “Grandfather was anything but pleased. He lost two hours of research time waiting with me in emergency care.”

I winced in sympathy for the little boy he had been. “That must have hurt dreadfully.”

“Enough that I took out several books from the local library and studied them manically so that it would never happen again.”

That made me grin. “Didn’t stop you from climbing, huh?”

“No. I don’t give up easily on anything that is important to me.” There was another squeeze of a hug as if he were making certain that I got the implied double entendre in his words. “My grandfather used to call me ‘jack-ass stubborn’,” he continued. “I prefer to think of myself as determined.”

Somewhere around forty minutes later the captain pointed out a secluded beach area and told us we’d be stopping for a while so people could stretch their legs and have a bit of lunch. “This is our stop,” Gil said quietly, and reluctantly pulled away from me to gather up the basket we’d purchased from the café and his backpack. I picked up my tote and before long we were stepping onto the dock and listening to the captain’s final instructions.

“There’s a wonderful stretch of beach that way folks, just beyond that little bend. A hill up to your right that has a view of the whole cove and just back over, a little copse of trees that offers plenty of grassy patches and shade. Don’t wander far if you don’t know the area. You’re due back on the boat in ninety minutes. Be responsible and be on time out of curtsey for your fellow passengers.” The captain was firm in his warning but since it was accompanied by a broad smile, no one took offense.

I looked up at Gil, squinting a little in the bright sunlight. “Do you have a plan?”

He nodded smugly. “I do,” he said then nudged my shoulder. “Up this way.”

‘This way’ turned out to be a narrow, winding path that led to a tiny overhang that was almost totally blinded on all sides by fragrant bushes. “What are these,” I asked, bending down to sniff a bloom.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “Never was interested enough to figure that out. We’ll have to look it up when we get home.”

I grinned then, liking the words he’d used. It just sounded so…domestic and…simple. It touched something deeply in that part of my self that I rarely connected with but then, it shouldn’t be all that surprising, now should it? I’d known for a while that Gil was one of the few people on earth that knew how to reach me in just such a way. As we spread the heavy duty picnic blanket on the ground and went through the process of setting up for lunch, I let my mind slide through little fantasies of us together…and how good it could be if we could get passed all this personal crap that was standing in the way. Being away from the real world had afforded me a chance to think and reevaluate some of my decisions with regard to both my personal life and professional goals. Some of the things that I thought were set in stone were now looking a little more flexible. I think that the fact that we’d survived a near-death experience had something to do with it. At first, my reaction had been panic…only natural, I suppose…but time and distance had allowed me to see that perhaps there were alternatives I could explore to bring things back on an even keel. I had told him…that terrible day in my apartment…that I was going to try and I wasn’t about to back out of that promise now.

I suppose the main thing that I’d managed to come to terms with is that if there was ever a person on the face of the planet that I could bare my soul to, it would be Gil. I trusted him. It was as simple as that. I trusted the bond we had and the closeness we shared and while I might not be quite ready to lay the entirety of my past on him, I had come to believe that it was important for me to tell him some of what I’d been through. What’s more, I’d come to believe that he could handle the truth…that he wouldn’t treat me like a freak or a victim. He respected me enough not to push me for answers even though I know it bothered him that I wouldn’t let him in…in that way. He loved me. I knew that now so I owed him some explanations if we were going to continue to see each other. Lexie had been right. Not telling him would be setting us up for disaster and I didn’t want this relationship to fail because of my personal demons. She might have been right about something else, too. Therapy might be a good choice, especially considering recent events. I wasn’t a child any longer. Surely there was someone out there I could speak with who would be able to help me work through things but wouldn’t be traumatized in the process.

I was dealing with so much right now. The guilt of taking a life – and no, it didn’t matter that it was in self –defense (my mind saw no distinction, a fact that in itself testified to how screwed up I was in my thought process), the frustration of not having caught Selina…the anger I still felt so intensely every time I thought of her…this business with Gil…If there was ever a moment in which I knew things were beyond my ability to cope…this was it. Anyway, I wasn’t ready to journey back in time with Gil just yet, but maybe, with a little help, I would be soon.

“You’re quiet,” Gil said, munching on an egg salad sandwich. “I thought you would enjoy this.”

I swallowed a chunk of my own hurriedly, jumping to contradict him. “I am. I am. This is just a perfect day for it and such a lovely spot. Guess I’m just…soaking it all in.”

He shook his head and then leaned in to give my nose a gently flick with his finger. “Your brain went in hyperdrive about six minutes ago and you haven’t said a word since.” He stroked a few wisps of hair out of my eyes then let his hand linger, warm palm against the swell of my cheek. “You look a little tired,” he told me softly, “Absolutely beautiful…but tired.”

“I’m fine, Gil. Really.”

For a moment, he looked at me so intensely that I almost pulled away from his touch, then his eyes softened and he said, “You haven’t been sleeping.”

Four little words. That’s all it was. Four little words but I knew…I knew that the peace we had found between us was about to be broken. And I tried to stop it. I did. “Gil, I think I’ve slept more here in the past few days than I have in the past few weeks.” It wasn’t a lie, unfortunately. It just wasn’t the whole truth. I leaned forward and kissed him, letting my lips linger as I drew him closer to me.

“Somehow that answer doesn’t reassure me.”

“I could lie if that would make you feel better.”

His eyebrows rose. “No, I think we have enough to deal with without making things more complicated, don’t you?” He pressed his lips into my shoulder. “Come here.”

“I am here,” I replied laughing softly and nipped his ear to prove it.

“No, closer.”

“Closer? Than this?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Like this,” he said and shifted so that he was able to slide my entire body across his lap.

My heart jumped into my throat. Silly, I know, to have such a strong reaction but there it was. The maneuver had taken me by surprise and I wasn’t sure if I liked being ‘trapped’ in his arms in that way. No one…and I mean NO ONE…had ever held me like this before and I was shocked to realize that the lack was due to the fact that I’d never let anyone try it. It was hardly a mystery, I suppose. There was a certain vulnerability in that pose that my survival instincts would have rebelled against on principle. But this was Gil, right? Surely I could let my guard down for him.

For a moment I sat stock still…not even breathing really…while I debated whether or not to pull away.

Gil shot me a look, very much aware that I was dealing with something. He pressed a hand to my chest. “Your heart’s going a mile a minute.”

I let out a breath. “I know.”

“Why?” When I shook my head, he pushed, “Why, Sara?”

“I-I don’t know! It’s beyond me. I feel…”

“What?”

“I feel a little...”

“Confined?”

“Yes, if you must know! And very stupid for feeling that way on top of it.”

“Why stupid?”

“That I don’t know. I mean, I do know…but it’s you, right? I shouldn’t feel that way with you. So it’s stupid.”

He shook his head. “No, it’s just par for the course.”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“Never mind. It’s not important. I’ll let you go if you want me to but I’d really like to sit here and enjoy what might be the last warm day of autumn. More importantly, I want you to relax and enjoy it with me.”

Put like that it sounded like such a simple thing…which of course made me feel even worse. “What about the captain and his orders? Aren’t we due back on the boat in a few minutes?”

“I already made arrangements with him to return on the later trip. Pretty soon, we’ll have the whole beach to ourselves for a couple of hours.”

“Oh,” I said, “well, I guess that takes care of that problem.”

“Yes, now, let’s see if we can take care of the other one.” His fingers found the small of my neck and soon he was treating me to a light massage.

I moaned a little breathy trail of sound and let my forehead drop against his shoulder. “That feels very…nice…Gil.”

“You’re so tense, Sara,” he said. “You need to let go. Just close your eyes and let go of everything.”

I rubbed my head against his shirt…wanting to give him what he asked but just not quite able to manage it. “You have no idea what you’re asking.”

“On the contrary, I know exactly and I’m not asking, Sara, I’m begging.”

My head lifted, the need to see his face so strong I had no choice but to do so. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that it’s okay to let your guard down once in a while. That it’s okay to let someone else take control every now and then. No, it’s more than ‘okay’. It’s absolutely necessary to give yourself permission to relax!”

“I am relaxed…or I was before we started this. All I’ve been doing for the last five days is relaxing.”

“Stop telling me what I want to hear or what you think I need to hear because I’m not buying it. I see right through you, Sara Sidle and I’m sorry if that scares you but it’s the way things are.”

“Gil…I’m not…I-I-don’t even know how to answer you. I don’t understand! Where is this coming from?”

He closed his eyes briefly and I almost told him not to say another word but we were into this now and I had to know. When he finally had the resolve to look at me again, regret and determination fought for dominance in his eyes. “I found the sketchbook, Sara. You have no idea how much I wish I hadn’t…but it’s done now and I can’t undo it.”

“You found my sketchbook,” I repeat numbly, suddenly chilled despite the warmth of the sun. “And you looked through it?” I didn’t wait for him to respond. “Of course you did. That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? The comments about my hands…your mother…this little trip down memory lane. It’s all a set up to get me to open up, isn’t it? Isn’t it?!”

To give him credit, he didn’t try to deny it or defend himself like some other people might have. He just nodded solemnly and waited for my response.

The ABC's of CSI: Book III: Cold, Snow and Ice: D is for Decisions, GSR, M

Mon, 05 Oct 2009 19:51:45 GMT

Title: The ABC's of CSI: Book III: Cold, Snow and Ice: D is for Decisions
Author: danceoftheheart
Rating: M
Spoilers: Anything up to currently Aired USA Season 10 is fair game.
Pairings: GSR
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or its characters. Please do not sue. I don't think either of us would enjoy the experience all that much.

A/N: Fluff, fluff and more fluff. Oh and a little romance tossed in for fun. This series takes up directly where the Jungle Series left off. Gil and Sara are on their way to colder climbs. How will they keep warm? Stay tuned…

D is for Decisions

“Gil, have you seen my gloves?”

“They’re here on the desk. Why?”

“I have to go to the store.”

“Really? What for?”

“We’re out of chocolate,” I mumbled…quite deliberately, I might add.

“Excuse me?”

“We’re out of chocolate,” I replied in a normal tone which earned me a rather strange look.

“Oh,” he said, “I thought is was something important.”

“If you were a woman, you wouldn’t make a statement like that. Especially at this time of the month.” PMS wasn’t usually a concern for me but the change in climate, exercise habits and diet were definitely having an effect on my temper and my stress management skills. I was in desperate need for a chocolate pick-me-up.

From his place in an easy chair that was seated oh-so-perfectly next to a blazing fire, Gil looked up from his book and vowed, “Woman or not, nothing would entice me to make a hike to the store in this.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“It’s minus four out there-“

“We’re in Canada, Gil. Technically, it’s closer to minus twenty on the Celsius scale.”

“The wind chill has got to be at least minus 13-“

“Again, we’re in Canada. I think the wind chill is spiking at minus 23 Celsius…or at least that’s what the radio was saying a few minutes ago. Doesn’t matter.”

“It’s a blizzard, Sara.” When he saw that his objections were having little effect, he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and stared at me in disbelief. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Again, if you were a woman…” I wrapped a thick scarf around my neck and head. “There, that should do it.”
He sighed, and climbed out of the chair. “Okay. Okay, I’ll start the car.”

“No, Gil, you don’t have to do that. I’m fine. It’s only a fifteen minute walk.”

“Each way,” he shot back.

“Well, yes, but I’ll warm up in the store,” I countered. “It’s really not that bad. And I could use the fresh air. We’ve been cooped up in here all day. Hey…wanna come with me? My treat.”

“No, thanks. Got your cell?”

“Yep.” I patted the front pocket of my snowsuit. “Do you need anything?”

He came closer, grinning evilly and whispered in my ear.

“Ahem…well…I’m not sure I can find that at the store.”

Gil chuckled. “No, I’m sure you couldn’t…well, maybe in Vegas but certainly not here.” He waited, that sly smile on his face while his suggestion circled around in my head and made my insides melt. “Well, you know, if you’re not interested…”

I flopped back against the door, arms akimbo. “You’re a rat, you know.”

“Yep,” he agreed, unwrapping my scarf from my head and plucking my gloves from my hands.

“Capital ‘R’, ‘A’, ‘T’” I growled back, my hands finding his hair as his hands found my zipper. He split the teeth of my thermal suit, letting his lips chase the movement of his fingers until he peeled me from the coverall…and the three layers of clothing I’d worn beneath it.

“You’re really making me work at this, Sar-“ he moaned into my neck as he pulled off the last insulating shirt.

“You’re complaining?”

“Nope. Not. Sorry.” He ducked so I could help him out of his sweater and then rid himself of his shirt while I worked on his jeans. We wove our way through our tiny living area to the bedroom just beyond and I was suddenly very grateful that we sublet the house we were currently in rather than residing on the base through our stay. It was nice to have the privacy the little cottage provided us newlyweds in the middle of the afternoon. It was especially nice to have walls thicker than tent screen to…ahem…muffle those little noises a domestic couple like us could…ah…make in the middle of the afternoon.

And make them we did.

Many…many…glorious minutes later as we lay wrapped snuggly in each other’s embrace, I felt Gil reach above our heads to a shelf inset in the headboard of our bed. I snickered, hunkering down farther under our thick comforter. “A little late to be reaching for protection now, Gil,” I drawled, pleasantly exhausted from our little romp.

“I agree, but that isn’t what I was reaching for. Here.” He passed me a foil wrapped slab of chocolate which I was delighted to find out was a Swiss milk chocolate bar…the kind that was so soft and creamy that it melted the second it hit your tongue. It was my favorite kind of chocolate in the world! Needless to say, I was ecstatic. “I didn’t know the store carried these!” I told him, eagerly peeling off the wrapper. I popped a square of the sweet treat into my mouth and groaned, absolutely beside myself with pleasure. “Thank-you, thank-you, thank-you!” I smacked a humongous kiss into his cheek with such force that I knocked him flat.

“You’re welcome, and they don’t,” Gil told me, grinning at my antics. His arms locked around my back holding me comfortably against his chest.

“Then how…?”

“Magic,” he returned.

“Yeah, right. Give.” When he shook his head, I leaned in, serving him my most intimidating look. “I know they weren’t in your suitcase. I would have seen them when I re-packed.”

“You’re right, they weren’t.”

I frowned, thinking back over the last couple of days. “Oh…wait, they must have been in the package Catherine sent but I would have seen them…” I paused, doing a mental inventory. “Wouldn’t I? I mean, I helped you open every parcel…except…Oh You RAT!” My fingers found that sensitive spot under his ribs and tickled him mercilessly. “You miserable…WONDERFUL…RAT! Live maggots, my ass!”

“Greg…got a…kick…out…of helping me…with that…part!” he gasped, before rolling us both over to gain a little control. “Be nice or I won’t tell you where the rest of the stash is.” He settled deeper between my thighs and his tongue slid seductively past my lips. “Mmmmm…you taste good.”

“Thanks to you,” I whispered back. I reached for the nightstand and put the chocolate bar on its surface then turned back to him. “That was very thoughtful, Gil. A really, wonderful surprise. I’ll have to think of some way to thank you properly.” I looped my arms around his neck and drew his head down until our lips were almost touching then I smiled wickedly. “Ohhhh…wait, I think I have an idea…”

The ABC's of CSI: Book III: Cold, Snow and Ice: C is for Crash, GSR, M

Thu, 24 Sep 2009 04:17:03 GMT

Title: The ABC's of CSI: Book III: Cold, Snow and Ice: C is for Crash
Author: danceoftheheart
Rating: M
Spoilers: Anything up to currently Aired USA Season 10 is fair game.
Pairings: GSR
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or its characters. Please do not sue. I don't think either of us would enjoy the experience all that much.

A/N: Fluff, fluff and more fluff. Oh and a little romance tossed in for fun. This series takes up directly where the Jungle Series left off. Gil and Sara are on their way to colder climbs. How will they keep warm? Stay tuned…

C is for Crash

“They just said they can’t see the runway.”

“Sara-“

“That there’s too much ice fog.”

“I thought you were a good flyer.”

I didn’t even bother looking at him. “Flying doesn’t bother me, Gil. Crashing on the other hand…”

“We’re not going to crash.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

“And what makes you think you’re in control here?”

“My overwhelmingly confident male ego.”

I sputtered…something between and laugh and a choke. “What?”

“And the power of positive thought!”

“And you think that’s going to do it?”

“Got you to marry me didn’t it?” His blue eyes danced, daring me to contradict him and as I stared into those handsome, passion-filled orbs I realized I couldn’t.

“You have a point,” I whispered, leaning into to kiss his cheek. At the last moment, he tilted his head and my lips meet his. Sweetly and tenderly, our lips moved against each other…making my stomach flutter in soft swells of desire and pleasure. His lips lingered on mine and I tasted tomorrows on his tongue.

The earth moved…literally moved! Well, okay, so actually the plane shook from the turbulence we were experiencing and we were in mid-air not really on terra firma, but you get the idea. Anyway, I sank into the experience, milking it for everything I could and while it’s true that I did feel the plane touch down, I was pleasantly distracted so it almost didn’t register. Almost.

When the noises of disembarking passengers and frankly, the lack of oxygen finally forced us to part, I dropped my forehead onto his chest and chuckled softly. “Looks like you’re on a roll, Dr. Grissom. Shame we’re not in Vegas. I bet you’d have a pile of chips sky high if you were willing to test your luck at the tables.”

Gil shook his head. “I’d lose my shirt.”

“How so?”

“You know the old saying, ‘Lucky in love…unlucky at cards.’ Can’t be both and I know Fortune’s favor has found my heart.”

The ABC's of CSI: Book III: Cold, Snow and Ice: B is for Bikinis, GSR, M

Thu, 24 Sep 2009 03:30:48 GMT

Title: The ABC's of CSI: Book III: Cold, Snow and Ice: B is for Bikinis
Author: danceoftheheart
Rating: M
Spoilers: Anything up to currently Aired USA Season 10 is fair game.
Pairings: GSR
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or its characters. Please do not sue. I don't think either of us would enjoy the experience all that much.

A/N: Fluff, fluff and more fluff. Oh and a little romance tossed in for fun. This series takes up directly where the Jungle Series left off. Gil and Sara are on their way to colder climbs. How will they keep warm? Stay tuned…

B is for Bikini

“Howdy folks. Looks like we’re getting pretty close now to our destination. We just checked in with the tower at Resolute Bay Airport and have been told the weather is currently clear for our approach. With any luck those conditions will hold until we’re safely on the ground. However, those of you who have flown with us before know that the weather has a nasty habit of changing when you least expect it so…should that turn out to be the case this morning I want to reassure all passengers that we have an alternate landing site lined up for just that situation. We’d like everyone to take this opportunity to begin their preflight clean-up and prepare to disembark.”

I blinked. “Well, that was one of the most bizarre announcements I’ve ever heard.”

“You haven’t flown this far north before, have you?” Gil asked.

I shook my head. “I was in Toronto once. For a physics competition. This is definitely a new experience for me.”

“Any regrets?”

“Hell no. I’m just a little curious about the update, that’s all.” I looked around the small cabin, noticing that the few people sharing the flight with us were indeed packing up their gear and securing their items. “Have you?” I asked.

Gil had gone back to reading a science article and was only half listening to what I said. “What?”

I nudged him. “Been this far north before.”

“Oh. Yes.”

I waited for more but when he didn’t deliver, I pressed, “When?”

“When…what?”

“Never mind,” I huffed, knowing him well enough that if I didn’t let him finish his article, he’d be next to useless to have a conversation with.

Ten minutes later we heard the following announcement. “Sorry folks, Mother Nature has just pulled a fast one on us. Looks like we’re in for a tough one. Winds have picked up so we’re going to get a little turbulence on the approach. For those newbies among us, it’s going to get very rough but we’ve been flying these skies for many years and you’re in very good hands. The main issue at the moment is the ice fog. If you look out your window, you’ll see a heavy bank of clouds. Right under that is a fairly decent sized layer of ice fog. Visibility is difficult but the tower says there are some patches of clarity. We’re going to make an attempt to land but don’t be surprised if we pull up again. Sometimes it takes a couple of attempts in conditions like this to make it to the ground. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Great. That’s just great.” I tightened my seatbelt ruthlessly and slumped back into my seat with my arms folded.

“Don’t let what he said bother you,” my husband said as he put away his magazine, took off his glasses and mimicked my actions. “They like to prepare you for the worst case scenarios up here to keep the panic down.”

“People panic often, do they?” I asked tensely.

Gil shrugged. “New experiences can be a little…um…challenging for some people. Not everyone is into extreme sports and high speed driving…like you.” There was a little bite to that last part.

“That’s nice. I’m worried and you’re teasing. Perfect.”

“I’m sorry. I’ve never seen you like this. It’s not like we’re dealing with bats.”

Wow. That was low. The nerve of him bringing up those horrible little monsters at a time like this! “Keep it up, bugman, and it’ll be the last you’ll see of me for six months.”

“Easy, Sara. I’m sorry. I’m just trying to get you to relax.”

“Newsflash. It isn’t working.”

“Look, we’ll probably get some turbulence and some wind gusts. It’ll feel a little like being on a high speed rollercoaster. Nothing to be scared about.”

“I’m not scared,” I told him shortly. “I’m concerned.”

“Honey, if you get any more ‘concerned’ I’m going to have puncture wounds in my leg from where your nails are digging in.” He looked down pointedly, and I let my gaze follow. Sure enough, there was my hand, braced on his thigh, holding on for dear life. I hadn’t even realized I’d been doing it. He grabbed my hand and gave it a kiss. “Ignore it, Sara. We’ll be on the ground in no time.”

“No doubt, but will we be in one piece?”

He chuckled evilly. “Odds are some of us will be.”

“That’s so not funny.” God, I almost whined that at him. I had to get a grip!

He leaned in closely and whispered in my ear. “Look around, Sara. Does anyone else here look concerned?”

My eyes scanned the interior of the craft. “No. Everyone else looks just fine.” The children, airline staff and all of the other passengers were simply going about their business and seemed quite comfortable about the process.

“Then take the captain’s comments in the context they were meant and trust them to get us safely back on the ground.” He slid a soft kiss over my cheek and I shivered as it danced along my skin. “Besides, no matter how nervous it made you, aren’t you glad that you got a head’s up on what to expect so you weren’t frightened more if and when things got rough?”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“’Forewarned is forearmed.’”

And that put things neatly into perspective in his world, I thought dryly, giving his hand a squeeze in return. He was right. I was letting my nerves get the best of me. I’d faced down armed criminals, sky diving, rock climbing…so whatever problems we were up against here were bound to pale in comparison. I searched for another topic of conversation. When I found one, my smile turned just a little bit wicked. Time to give Gil a little payback for all of that teasing. “Oh, by the way, when I weighed your suitcase at home, I found out you were over the limit so I had to take a couple of things out.”

His eyes flew to mine. “And you’re only telling me this now?”

I blinked…all innocence. “I didn’t think you’d mind. Wasn’t anything really important.”

“Don’t you think I should be the judge of that?”

“Well, yes, of course but the taxi was there and we were rushed getting Bruno to the sitter…well, I had just enough time to take care of it . I guess I forgot to mention it afterwards.”

“What did you take out?”

“Some of your underwear…but I repacked all of that in mine.”

“Oh. Okay. Anything else.”

“Yes. A few of the notebooks and files but before you say anything, Catherine’s sending that box of supplies from the lab this week and I called to make sure she included the extras in the delivery. She said she’d swoop by the condo and grab them tomorrow. There’s still enough in there to do you for a few weeks I’m sure. Again, it’s not much because I shifted what I could to my bag first.”

“I can’t believe I was that much over the limit.”

“Gil, your suitcase was so heavy I could barely lift it off the bed. I knew something was wrong as soon as I tried. Now, let me think…was that it? Hmmm. Oh, wait, there was one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“That um, bikini top you slipped into your case. Remember…the new one I hadn’t had a chance to wear yet?”

“You took that out? Why?”

“It just looked like something you didn’t need and I told you I was fighting with the baggage restrictions so-“

“But that couldn’t have weighed much at all. I can hardly see what difference it would have made-“

“Oh believe me, I was surprised. When I took it out you came in just under the limit. Honestly, Gil, I thought you would have been pleased. By taking it out I managed to include an extra notepad and really isn’t that a lot more important that a silly swim suit?” My mouth twitched. Damn. Hope he didn’t catch that.

“Hmmmph. I suppose so…I just don’t see…wait a minute, you’re putting me on, right? It’s still in my case, isn’t it?”

He did catch it. Damn. I tried to bluff it out. I looked down, shaking my head. “Sorry.”

“Then you repacked it in yours, right?”

Again I shook my head, praying I could keep a straight face. Poor Gil, he looked so disappointed. Served him right for giving me such a hard time earlier. “By the time I took the other stuff from your case I was at my limit too. Sorry, I couldn’t pack it either.”

“Oh. All right then.” He looked away and though he wasn’t quite pouting, he certainly wasn’t too happy.

I couldn’t stand it. It was supposed to be a joke but now I just felt bad. I decided to let him off the hook. “You know, I was worried you were going to be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad. I’m just-look, it’s fine.”

“No. No, it’s not. When I couldn’t get it the suitcases, I knew you’d be upset so I figured I should probably wear it just in case.”

“What?”

“I said, ‘I should probably wear it-‘”

“Now I know you’re putting me on.”

I shook my head and pulled back the shoulder of my shirt. “See?”

And see he did. The strap against my skin obviously belonged to that little bikini top and Gil leaned in and nipped my shoulder through the slinky fabric. “I think I love you, Sara (kiss) Sidle (kiss) Grissom (kiss).”

I pulled back. “’Think?’”

“Well, I’m pretty certain anyway.” He smushed a sloppy, very noisy, kiss into my shoulder and I wrinkled my nose at him.

“Well, that’s good, because I’ve got a hunch that I’m in love with you too.”

“Then I guess it was a pretty good thing that we got married before jumping on the plane and heading north.”

“Yeah. Guess it was. Strange place for a honeymoon isn’t it?” I held up my ring and we both took a second to admire it. “You realize, we’re going to have to face a lot of pissed off people when we get back to Vegas in six months. Catherine and Brass especially will not take kindly to being left out of the loop.”

“I’ll email them,” Gil said, apparently not that concerned.

I choked, thinking of the reactions of said people clicking on their inboxes and seeing something like that without any warning. “Yeah, okay, you do that. Just don’t mention me in the process.”

“Going to be hard to avoid it.”

“I am not taking the rap for this one. This was all your doing.”

“You agreed to it.”

“Yes…I did…to the marriage…but not to the means in which we accomplished it.”

“Fine time to object now.”

“Gil, I objected…strenuously, I might add…at the time…over and over…but you…well, you were so cute and sweet and insistent that I-I…ah, hell, when have I ever been able to say no to you?” I stroked his jaw lovingly. “You and those damn glasses. What woman in her right mind could resist?”

His expression turned almost gleeful. “I wondered what had turned the tide.”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t play innocent with me. You know my weakness for those glasses intimately. This isn’t the first time you’ve used it against me.”

He pulled his frames from his shirt pocket and slid them into place. “My glasses? You have a weakness for my glasses?”

“Gil-“

“And just what would that weakness entail?”

I sighed. “You could get me to agree to…just about anything…and you know it.”

“Anything?”

“Mmmmhmmm. Just about.” He opened his mouth to add something and I held up a finger in warning. “Careful. We still have a good two hours or so before we’ll get any privacy. Don’t start something now that you can’t finish.”

But he didn’t heed my warning. Instead, very surreptitiously, very slowly, he kissed one of his fingers and then drew it down my cheek…down my neck…and let it disappear into the valley of my breasts. I flushed with heat and licked my lips. “Don’t worry, I’ll be alright,” he said, enjoying the shiver that raced across my skin.

So, my husband was in the mood to play, was he? Fine by me, I decided. I leaned in and whispered something very explicit…very dangerous…into his ear, then sat back and waited for the reaction to set in.

For a moment, Gil sat very still, swallowing hard as his brain filtered my words, then he turned to me with a feral smirk and said, “Oh, you are in so much trouble when we get to our room.”

I giggled outright. “God, I hope so!” I would have continued that comment but the place began to dip and it was obvious from our change in altitude that we were preparing to land.

A/N: For the ‘bat’ reference check out ‘M’ in the original ABC series.

Intermezzo: Part I, GSR, M

Sun, 13 Sep 2009 03:52:50 GMT

Title: Intermezzo: Part I
Author: danceoftheheart
Rating: M
Spoilers: Anything up to currently Aired USA Season 8 is fair game.
Pairings: GSR
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or its characters. Please do not sue. I don't think either of us would enjoy the experience all that much.

Intermezzo
Part I

LYRICAL INTERMEZZO NO. 55 by: Gustavo Adolfo Becquer (1836-1870)
OFTEN when two are parting,
Each grasps a hand as friend;
And then begins a weeping
And a sighing without end.

We did not sigh when parting;
No tears between us fell;
The weeping and the sighing
Came after our farewell.

--Translated by Chas. G. Leland

We ended up in California. Gil’s mother’s beach front cottage in Moonstone Beach, Cambria to be exact. For five glorious, fantastical days we sat on the deck and watched the waves, went on nature walks along the shore and made love to the rhythm of the surf. And we talked. Not about work or school or anything important. Just easy things like whether or not we enjoyed the movie we saw on television or how we wanted our eggs cooked that morning.
It was like living in one of those sweet, romantic movies that I used to watch in my bedroom in Tamales Bay. It was so simple…and sweet and…perfect and I knew in my heart of hearts that it was probably the happiest I’d ever been in my life.

The only thing marring the getaway was the occasional heart-stopping nightmare that I’d so far managed to hide from Gil but that was to be expected after the ordeal we had just survived. I was pretty sure that he wasn’t aware that I hadn’t been able to sleep a full night since we’d arrived and I was determined to keep it that way.

A pair of very familiar arms wrapped softly around my frame, enveloping me in his embrace and I leaned back knowing now that my morning was complete. “You know, Gil, this was a really…really…good idea.”

“I’m glad you think so…now.”

I chuckled, turning about in his arms. “Hey, give me a break. Any person in their right mind would have hesitated after the way you brought this up. I mean, I have nothing against meeting your mother but…how did you put it? Oh, yeah. ‘Sara, let’s go invade my mother’s place. She won’t mind us dropping in, even if it is short notice. I’m sure she’ll be able to put us up and if she can’t…well, there’re always hotels, aren’t there?”

”I suppose that did sound a little too casual, but she wouldn’t have minded in the least. I’m sorry she couldn’t be here. I think the two of you would have enjoyed meeting each other.”

“Really? That’s a very nice thing to say.”

“It’s the truth. You have…how do I put this? You share some of the same mannerisms.”

I raised my eyebrows at him. “Okay, don’t take this the wrong way, but this conversation’s starting to go in a direction I’m not sure I’m comfortable with.” I smiled gently at him to let him know I was teasing.

He shook his head. “It’s hard to explain, Sara. It’s your hands, I suppose.”

“My hands?”

“Yes. They’re competent but graceful. Like hers. I told you she’s an artist, right?”

My heart started to pound just a little. I hoped he wasn’t aware that it had. “Yes. You did.” I nodded at the painting just inside the door. “That’s one of hers there. I saw the signature last night.”

“Right. When I was younger I used to watch her paint. Unlike what I’ve been told about most other artists, she didn’t mind being observed as she worked. Could be attributed to the fact that she couldn’t hear so she didn’t get distracted like some others would. I think she was happy for the company.”

“Well, your company for sure,” I said, nodding for him to go on but not really wanting to.

“Anyway, I used to watch the movement of her hands and you…you have the same gestures…quirks, even. I noticed it when we played chess…and when you were drawing diagrams and maps at the lab. You’re very confident and accurate when you draw…actually I think you’re extremely talented…” he stopped as I pulled away from him. “Did I say something wrong?”

I shook my head. “No, I just wanted some more coffee. Did you want some?”

“Sara? Did I offend you in some way?”

I turned back around and made sure to look him right in the eye. “No, of course you didn’t. I’m flattered actually.”

“No, you’re uncomfortable. And fidgety…and I’d like to know why so I don’t make the same mistake again.”

“You didn’t…it’s fine. Really. Fine. If I am a little fidgety, maybe…maybe it’s because I’m just not used to taking a compliment like that.” Again I smiled, but then turned about to grab the coffee pot. “Where’s your mug?”

He came closer and held out his cup to me and I could see he wanted to say something more…but he just let nodded his thanks and sat down at the table. I followed suit, settling into the chair opposite. He took a sip and then sat motionless for a moment, the cup braced in his hands before finally setting it down on the table and holding out a hand to me. I dropped my hand into his without hesitation. His thumb stroked the bridge of my fingers softly, making a couple of passes before giving it a little squeeze. “What shall we do today?”

Hardly expecting that question, I laughed a little in surprise and said, “Um…I don’t know. The weather’s supposed to be very fine today. What about packing a lunch and doing something outdoors.”

“We haven’t taken that boat tour I was telling you about. If we hurry we might just make it.”

“Sounds great. I can be ready in ten minutes…the lunch might take a little longer, though.”

He shook his head and after swallowing another mouthful of coffee said, “There’s a little dockside café that can take care of that. Let me make a couple of phone calls to make sure they’re not full up and we’ll head out as soon as you’re ready.”

“Deal.”

“Oh, and Sara?”

“Yes?”

“You’ll probably take a tote bag, right?”

“Yes.”

“Pack a sweater, an umbrella and some sunglasses.”

I nodded, already of a mind to do so. “Yep. What about you? Do you have an emergency kit?”

“I’m covered. Mom always keeps a small back pack for this very thing on a hook by the back door. I’ll just take a quick look through it to make sure it’s ready to go but she’s usually keeps it stocked. Oh, but I will need a sweater. Grab one from my suitcase, will you?”

“Sure thing,” I called out over my shoulder. I strode into the bedroom, downing more coffee on the way then set my mug on the nightstand while I got ready. A quick twist of my hair produced a ponytail which I secured with an elastic and a couple of strokes with the brush twirled my wild curls into some semblance of neatness. I washed my face and brushed my teeth and applied only the lightest touch of mascara to my eyes. I knew from experience that there was little point in adding any shadow or blush. My skin didn’t hold make-up all that well in this humidity so I simply didn’t bother. It was an easy thing to find my tote bag, the two requested sweaters and my sunglasses. I was just about to head back to the kitchen when I realized I should probably exchange my flip flops for runners and made an about face back to the suitcase. I rummaged through, finally locating the pair I packed at the bottom of the bag and made short work of putting them on. I repacked what I’d taken out during my search but paused when an odd sensation of something being a little off hit me. I frowned, intently, staring at the case with a small pile of t-shirts in my hands, not sure why I was feeling that way, but since I couldn’t figure out what was wrong, I dropped the pile back in the bag and moved on.

“Gil,” I called out as I approached the main room, “did you get us spots? Oh, sorry,” I whispered, seeing that he was still on the phone. I waited by the door, listening as he finished up, thinking how cute he looked in his jeans and black t-shirt, bent over the counter as he spoke. It wasn’t often I got a chance to see him this casual and let’s face it, from this angle. Hmmm.

“Sara?”

I looked up, startled from my thoughts. “Ohumm…what?”

“I said, we’re all set. You were a million miles away.”

I shook my head, sure I was blushing a little. “No…not nearly that far,” I told him. I hoisted my bag. “I’m ready.” I slung it over my shoulder and waited expectantly. When he didn’t say anything I frowned. “What? Do I have a stain or something?”

He shook his head, and shoved his hands in his pockets. “No.”

“Then what?”

He tilted his head to one side, still staring at me. “Sara…dressed like that…in sneakers and shorts, with your hair back…you don’t look a day over nineteen.”

Ahhhh…so that was it. “Well, Dr. Grissom, thank you for that lovely compliment, but you and I both know I am hardly nineteen.” I flashed him a breezy grin and opened the front door. “First one to the car gets to drive.”

Follow the Leader Part XXII, GSR, M

Sun, 13 Sep 2009 02:34:10 GMT

Title: Follow the Leader Part XXII
Author: danceoftheheart
Rating: M
Spoilers: Anything up to currently Aired USA Season 8 is fair game.
Pairings: GSR
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or its characters. Please do not sue. I don't think either of us would enjoy the experience all that much.

A/N: This one takes place in the same little ‘universe’ as my Bed of Roses series. Gil and Sara are married and still working at the lab. Ecklie is Sara’s immediate supervisor and this case file happens somewhere between their first and second anniversaries.

Follow the Leader

Part XXII

I stood at the threshold of our bedroom, staring blindly into the room beyond. Once again, there was a metallic…iron-based…taste in my mouth but it was hard to tell if it was being triggered by traces of blood that still clung to the room or by my own sub-conscious. There was definitely a smell of disinfectant. My nose burned from the acidic blend of chemicals the clean-up crew had used on the walls and carpet but there were still traces of cast off on the walls and some of the furniture that no amount of scrubbing could erase. My stomach turned in response.

I felt his presence behind me and I spoke without turning, “They stripped the bed.”

Gil placed his hands on my shoulders. “You knew they would. The linens were evidence.”

“I don’t care about the linens…or the duvet cover for that matter.”

“What then?”

“The quilt…the one folded at the foot of the bed. It was a gift, remember? For our wedding. Greg’s grandmother made it for us.”

“Yes. I remember.”

I swallowed. “And there’s pieces… cut out of the rug where they…” I turned and buried my face in his neck, my arms winding around his body tight enough to crush bone. “I don’t think I can do this, Gil. I just keep seeing you there…”

“It wasn’t me, Sara. You know it wasn’t me.”

“I know now! My head knows all of that now but…but my heart didn’t know it then!” I push myself away angrily. “I used to love this room, Gil. I used to love coming in here and closing the door and lying with you under our handmade quilt. And now…now I hate it. I hate what I’m seeing every time I look at the bed. I hate that everything’s been touched by strangers…and pawed through…and tainted. Dammit! I want to hit something! It’s just like before.” I strode away a few steps, my arms a human straight-jacket trying to contain blood curdling unease I felt just being in this room.

“Before?” I could see him trying to figure out the reference. “You mean when your father…died?”

“Yes, then,” I answered, shortly. “And after that one time in foster care when the girl who shared my room was killed by that bastard of a ‘family friend’.” My eyes burned and the back of my neck throbbed. “I hate being invaded like this. It’s like you’re being victimized twice…first by the bad-guys and then by the investigators because no matter how careful they try to be, they’re still going to have to destroy things in order to make things right again. And as hard as those first incidents were, this is worse. I didn’t have to live in those places after everything was torn up. I didn’t have to face the rebuilding a lot of the victims in our case files have had to face and I’ve always been grateful for that.”

He nodded, shoving his hands in the pockets of his pants and leaning against the door. “There’s another major difference too. We chose the things in here…the furniture, the accessories. We decided how we wanted things placed and what made this condo a home to us. Of course you’re going to feel this a lot deeper than before.”

“I was a child those other times…used to being shuffled around and getting other people’s leftovers. It didn’t matter so much then.” I growled low in my throat. “This sucks.”

“You’re right. It does,” he said simply. “The question therefore is how we’re going to get passed this. How are we going to take back our lives? Because, I don’t know about you, but I’m getting a little sick and tired of being someone’s pawn in this stupid game.”

“Me too.”

“And I’ll be damned if I’ll let anyone mess around with us more than can be helped. So much of this case has been out of our control but this…this is something we can turn around and make our own again.”

“You’re right.”

“Look, the malls will be open in thirty minutes. Why don’t we go to the store and pick up some necessities. A new comforter, sheets…maybe a throw rug.”

I shook my head. “No rug. Let’s just toss this one out.”

“Okay with me. Some potpourri?”

“Diffusers,” I said, decisively. “You’d be surprised how much difference a couple of those will make.”

“Do we need to go as far as getting a new bed?”

My heart flipped. “You’d do that? For me? You love this bed.”

“Not as much as you.”

“Let’s try to keep the bed. Besides, it looks as though a new mattress was installed already.”

“Yes.” Gil wandered over to test it out. “Jim told me there was no saving the other…not that I would have regardless. I ordered this one when you were out getting tests done at the hospital. Greg took the delivery for us.”

“I’ll have to send him a note.” I linked fingers with his. “You know, we could take the guest room for now and shop later. We’re both tired and this might be just too much to expect of ourselves right now.”

“No. I should have thought about this when I was ordering the mattresses but…my mind was on something else.” He leaned down and gave my neck a nuzzle.

“Me? How sweet.” I stroked his handsome jaw. “Alright. We could probably get this done in an hour if we’re quick about it.” I snatched the keys for our rental truck. “I’ll drive.”

By the time we’d gone to the mall, picked up Bruno from the sitter’s, returned home and unpacked everything we’d purchased, Gil and I had only enough energy left to grab a quick shower and hit the sheets.

Wait, that makes it sound simple, doesn’t it? The two of us were tired so we just jumped into bed. No, it wasn’t as cavalier as that by any means. Even after we installed the new bedding and the air fresheners, my skin crawled at the idea of sleeping in our room but since Gil had gone to so much trouble on my behalf I didn’t have the heart to tell him. So…I puttered around the room and tidied while he was finishing up his shower…and waited until the very last minute before I climbed into bed beside him and pulled the covers up to my chin.

I let him kiss me goodnight, in fact put a lot of effort into it hoping it would turn into something more than a kiss but…as I said, we were both very tired and even though I could have really used the distraction of lovemaking, I knew it wasn’t in the cards for us this evening. Gil fell asleep, almost right away. With my head cradled on his chest and his right arm wrapping me tight to his side, I listened to his breathing even out and lighten as he slipped away into his dreams. For a long time I lay there in the dark, matching my breaths to his, trying to clear my mind with the focus of a yoga master trying not to start at every click from the air conditioner or every shuffle of movement from the dog. It was ridiculous and stupid and all manner of things beyond crazy but I couldn’t help myself. It just was…and I would have to learn to deal.

I guess, eventually, exhaustion got the best of me because the next thing I knew, we were being summoned by the dreaded sound of a cell phone.

We’d been dead to the world for almost six hours so you would have thought that we’d be good to go…but the ringing made us realize that six hours wasn’t nearly long enough to make up for what we’d been through in the past couple of days.

Usually, if a phone rings, Gil and I are quick enough to grab it before it gets a chance to ring a second time. Not so today. A third ring went by before I finally said, “It’s yours.”

“I can’t move my arms,” Gil slurred back, but then proved that he could when he caressed my back in a soothing manner. “Shhhh. Go back to sleep.”

“That’s four rings, Gil,” I told him, practically purring at the attention.

“My voicemail can get it.”

I snorted. “Really? Wow. Never thought I’d hear that from you.”

“Shhh. Sleeping.” He followed up those words with a loud and very fake snore.

The phone had stopped ringing so I shrugged and rolled over. He scooted in close behind me and we went about the business of catching some more ‘zzzzzz’s’. For all of ten minutes.

Riiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnngggggg.

“See? See?” he mumbled into my neck. “This is why I don’t normally let it go to voicemail. There’s no point!”

“You need an unlisted number,” I shot back, trying to ignore the rings.

“Don’t think the lab would go for that, dear,” he replied just as dryly.

“You’re not on call tonight. There’s no need to have it on.”

“Being on-call or not hasn’t mattered much of late, has it?”

“No. No, it hasn’t.” The ringing stopped and he took advantage of the lull to let his hands do a little exploring. Things were just getting interesting when it started up again. It was at that point I lost it. “At least set the damn thing to a music ringtone. It’s much easier to ignore. Better yet, turn it off altogether.”

“You first,” he dared, his hand cupping my breast…his body moving crowding me into the sheets.

“MMMmmmm…Mine doesn’t go off nearly as much as yours does. If it did, I would.” Another ring. “Ah, hell, Gil. You’d better answer it…or shoot the damn thing and be done with it. It’s sort of killing the mood.” I yawned, and performed an enormous stretch. “Oh, and while you’re at it, make it a short conversation. I don’t know how long I’ll be able stay awake so…if you want to finish what you started here, you’d better hop to it.” I grinned at him, showing all of my teeth and even went so far as to flutter my lashes.

He laughed and answered, “I’ll take that under advisement.” There was a pause in his movements and I assumed he checked the faceplate because it was still ringing when he said, “Ecklie. Figures.” I heard a beep when he connected. “Grissom. Yes. Yes, of course she’s here with me. Where the hell else would she be at this hour? Yes, we are usually up by now but circumstances over the last couple of days have…no, no…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be short with you, I’m just tired. We both are and it’s our first night back in our home so…right. Exactly. It took us a little while to settle in tonight. No, go ahead. What did they conclude.” There was a lengthy pause here and I could hear Conrad’s deep voice pulsing through the receiver. “Hmmm. Yes, I can see that it would. Yes. Immediate attention. No, I’m not concerned about that. Not in the least. Yes. Yes, that’s exactly what’s bothering me. This just keeps getting messier and messier. Right. Okay. Thanks, Conrad. Yes. Later on this evening. Okay. We’ll be there.” He snapped his cell phone closed and sunk back into the bedding.

I waited for him to say something and when he didn’t, I rolled over in concern. “So that was Eckle?” I asked, just to get the ball rolling.

“Yes.”

“McKeen’s memorial?” I guessed.

“Set for two pm on Wednesday.”

“Day after tomorrow.”

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s good. Give us some time to prepare.” I curled into his shoulder. “Anything else?”

Gil’s jaw tightened. “They matched the bullet from the man in the woods to your service revolver.”

“The one that stolen from lock-up. Yes, I know that. Catherine told us that already. No news there.”

“But the identity of the victim is.”

“Uh oh. Who?”

“The security guard…from the Wayburn Estate.”

“Mitchell?”

Gil nodded. “Ecklie wants us in for a consult first thing. Seems he’s having a little trouble keeping IA out of this mess.”

“Internal affairs?! Shit. Forgot about them. And I guess Ecklie’s just throwing me to the wolves.”

“On the contrary, I get the distinct impression that he’s trying to keep them at bay. That’s one of the reasons he wants this consult ASAP.”

“Consult? Ha. You mean interrogation,” I grunted and swiped the covers off angrily as I got out of bed.”

“Sara-“

“Don’t. Just…don’t.” I paused mid-stride, my hand braced on the frame of the bathroom door. “Look I know that this isn’t as bad as it could be-and Conrad, he’s just following procedure but-I’m allowed to be mad all the same, okay?”

“Sure. Okay.”

“I’m going to shower, do a little swearing at the tiles and maybe shadowbox a couple of demons. The rush of the water should cover the resulting noise of my hissy-fit. Maybe then I’ll feel a little more human.”

Gil smirked. “I’ll start the coffee,” he said, decisively. He crawled to a stand, did a couple of bone-popping stretches and scrubbed the sleep out of his eyes. “That way, if you need to drop kick a few IA reps today, you’ll have the stamina to follow through.”

I smirked back. “MMM…coffee. My hero! I love you, you know.”

“And here I thought you were just using me for sex.” He winked-actually winked at me-and then sauntered out of the room without another word, leaving me giggling at his silliness. Suddenly, coffee sounded much better than swearing at the tiles and continuing this conversation…a lot more interesting than shadow-boxing. I left my post and joined my husband in the kitchen.

The ABC's of CSI: Book II: A Matter of Time: Part IV: 3:00 am, GSR, PG

Mon, 31 Aug 2009 02:18:26 GMT

Title: The ABC's of CSI: Book II: A Matter of Time: Part IV: 3:00 am
Author: danceoftheheart
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Anything up to currently Aired USA Season 9 is fair game.
Pairings: GSR
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or its characters. Please do not sue. I don't think either of us would enjoy the experience all that much.

A/N: By popular request, this series is a continuation of my ABC’s of CSI series. Picks up directly where the other left off.

A Matter of Time

3:00 am

Three o'clock is always too late or too early for anything you want to do.
Jean-Paul Sartre, Nausea (1938) "Vendredi"
French author & existentialist philosopher (1905 - 1980)

We named her Alaina; partially because we wanted to honor our good friend and colleague, Al Robbins, for his help in bringing her into the world and partially because the Irish meaning of the name meant, “Dear Child.” We continued the theme by adding, Amanda, as her middle name. Not only was it Gil’s mother’s name but it meant, ‘beloved’ so we felt it was a natural fit.

However, in the flurry of the first few weeks after her birth, Alaina Amanda Grissom’s name somehow morphed into, ‘Lana’ and despite our best efforts to stop it, the nick-name stuck. Hell, I was even calling her that without thinking by the end of it. Not that there was really anything wrong with the name…actually, I think it’s sweet…but you know, being a new mom, well, new parents really, you fuss over finding the perfect name for your precious little one and kind of hope the name you pick gets used once in a while (grin).

I lay the blame for this solely at the feet of exhaustion and our inability to keep correcting everyone who used it at the lab (especially Greg!). Let me explain.

Our daughter, by necessity, had made several visits to the lab in the first couple of months after her birth due to the fact that two of the cases that Gil and I had worked together went to trial at the same time. I was forced to interrupt my maternity leave so I could deliver testimony in court over the period of several weeks.

Since I was breast-feeding and adamant about not leaving Alaina with a sitter, I had no choice but to bring her to work with me while I went through the necessary preparations required in two such important cases as those. ‘Lana’ soon became quite the celebrity, with everyone offering to ‘keep an eye on her’ while I was busy if they had a break or a lull. While it was true that she slept a good deal of the time we were there, she also managed a fairly full social calendar, complete with play breaks and ‘lunch’ dates. Though there were times things got a little stressful, the fact that Gil and I trusted the members of our team to help out and better yet, were able to spend precious time with her ourselves and still get done what needed to be done, made all the difference in the world. I really considered myself blessed that we had such good friends at such a hectic time in our lives.

But I digress…

It was late into shift one night, somewhere around three a.m., when Gil and I entered the break room in search of our daughter. We’d both been called into a meeting with counsel in preparation for the next day’s judicial schedule and Greg had been placed on nanny duty while we were unavailable. Naturally, we were anxious to be reunited with our little treasure so we hurried down the corridor not noticing the fact that it was practically devoid of personnel. It was only as we approached the break room that we noticed several raised voices and realized that there was something going on that wasn’t business as usual.

Being new parents, we did what most new parents would do…shot a seriously concerned look at each other and scrambled faster down the hallway, mentally prepping ourselves for battle or rescue…or whatever it took. We burst into the room, heaving buckets of breath, demanding to know what was going on. Pure superhero bravado. All that was missing was the capes and matching tights.

Needless to say, our reaction was a tad on the overdramatic side.

Conversation stopped dead. Most were too stunned to say anything. Others hid snickers behind their hands even though their eyes shot us very understanding looks. Regardless, every person in the room was seriously challenged to come up with a way to break the tension of the moment.

Every person but Greg that is. In that boyishly charming way of his, he turned around to face us in one of those cushy swivel chairs and said, “Thank god! Griss and Sara are here. We’ll let them be the deciding vote!”

Clamping down on my ‘new mommy’ panic I tried to appear almost normal and went to the counter to get a cup of coffee. On the way I asked (ohhhh so coooly), “Deciding vote for what?”

Gil hadn’t recovered as ‘easily’ as I and had gone right to the child rather than for the caffeine. He eased her from her carrier and gave her tiny body a little snuggle as he settled into a chair. “Sara, really, I’m not sure I want to know.”

Nick snickered into his hand and a few others laughed outright. “It’s really stupid guys,” Nick said around a mouthful of Tai food. “WE,” and he circled the room with his fork, “have been going round and round for an thirty minutes over who your daughter reminds us of. We all know it’s someone but none of us can figure out who the hell it is.”

I leaned down to where my daughter dozed on Gil’s shoulder and gave her a tiny kiss before finding my own chair. “You guys had nothing better to do with your time?”

Gil chuckled. “I was just about to ask the same thing.”

Greg grinned, not at all dissuaded by his supervisor’s comment. “It’s one of those rare days that everything coincided and we all ended up in the lunch room at the same time. Very rare, this. Probably should document this occurrence.”

I rolled my eyes, knowing that Gil was in far too content a mood to dispute Greg’s claim. “Okay…so…what was the question again?”

“Alaina…she reminds us of someone,” Hodges said.

“Well…us, I would hope,” my husband put in dryly.

“No…well, yes, of course,” Catherine said, “but we’re thinking someone famous.”

“Vegas famous or world famous?” I asked, intrigued enough to play along.

“World, we think. But that’s just it. We can’t pinpoint it and…”

“I know, I know. Once a geek thinks of a question, it has to be answered, right? Okay. Well. Hmmmm. Who have you ruled out?”

“Kirsten Dunst,” Nick said.

“Cameron Diaz,” Wendy offered.

Mandy spoke up with, “Reece Witherspoon…Christina Applegate…”

“Keira Knightley,” Hodges added. “Close but none of them really seem right.”

“No,” I said, “but I see where you’re coming from.” I gestured and Gil swiveled his chair towards me so I could get a better look at Alaina’s face. “Hmmm. The eyes are close but guys, it’s all about the cheekbones and her tiny pointed chin.”

“And that is why my vote’s with Natalie Portman. Or…or Jennifer Love Hewitt,” Greg jumped in excitedly. “They both have that going on.”

“Yeah, but Greg, their eyes aren’t quite right, are they?” Catherine asked, leaning in for a close look herself. “You know, from this angle…she sort of reminds me of Kate Winslet with her eyes closed like that. You know, when she’s on the bow of the Titanic.”

“’I’m the King of the World!’” Greg bellowed and got numerous, “SHHHHHHHSSSS!” for his outburst. We all held our breath as Alaina fussed a little, opened her eyes but then drifted right back to sleep. “Sorry, guys. Got carried away,” Greg whispered.

“You know what, Cat? You may be onto something but…hang on.” I slipped out of my chair to go to the computer terminal in the corner of the room. Within seconds, I’d pulled up an image. “There. How’s that for a match? Or her?” There was a mass-albiet quiet- shuffling of feet and chairs as the others came closer to take a look at who I’d pulled up. “Not bad, huh?”

Greg was the first one to agree. “Wow. There she is. That’s who she reminds me of. Scarlett Johansson!”

Nick shook his head, “No, it’s beauty number two for me. Charlize Theron.”

Catherine looked from one to the other. “I never realized how much those two actresses looked alike. Hey, I’d say you’re both right. They have the same kind of chin…same cheekbones. Yep. I’d buy either one.”

It was just about this time that my husband sauntered over to peek at my choices. He looked from photo to photo and then gave a nod. “Yes, they’re both close but I’ve got one closer.”

“Really?” I asked. “Who?”

He tilted his head, a gesture I correctly interpreted as meaning, ‘let me have a go at the keyboard’, and took my place, all without disturbing our daughter in the slightest. A few strokes of the keyboard brought a fresh set of images onto the screen.

“Lana Turner? Really Gil? I mean I can see the eyes and the face but…” I scanned the images of the famous pin-up girl with her blonde hair and dark lips and shook my head.

“Just a second,” he said, scrolling down. “I’m looking for one shot in particular…hmmm…here we go.” He clicked and the images were replaced with a photo of a very young Lana Turner taken in her first year in Hollywood when she was sixteen years old. It was a really sweet picture…very ‘girl next door’…and her hair was every bit as dark as our daughters’ curls. The resemblance was uncanny.

“Oh my gosh. You’re right. That’s her. That’s our girl. What on earth made you think of her?”

“Would you believe…the other night, when I was waiting for you to finish up with Ecklie, she made an expression that I swore I’d seen somewhere before and…well, after an hour of surfing, finally figured out who she reminded me of.”

Greg gave Gil a nudge in the arm. “Trust the Griss-man to have the answer all along. Well, there you go, our very own, petite, Lana Turner!”

The rest, as they say, is history.

A/N: A great shout out of thanks goes to my sister who literally went through photos of celebrities and debated features to come up with the best options for comparison for “Lana’s” doppelganger.

Intermezzo: Prologue, GSR, M

Sun, 30 Aug 2009 04:54:54 GMT

Title: Intermezzo: Prologue
Author: danceoftheheart
Rating: M
Spoilers: Anything up to currently Aired USA Season 8 is fair game.
Pairings: GSR
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or its characters. Please do not sue. I don't think either of us would enjoy the experience all that much.

Intermezzo

Prologue

For an early spring day the heat was rather oppressive. The sun was a blistering ball of gas in a cloudless sky. My cotton shirt was clinging to my back in damp patches by the time we had made it back to the lab, the weather being only partially responsible for it. My body temperature was currently being fueled by anger and a minor infection from the deep tear in my left palm.

Matt played the gentleman and held the door for me but before I passed through I felt forced to say, “Before we enter the building we need to reach an understanding.”

“Alright,” he said, letting the glass panel fall close and stepping out of the path to the side of the building.

“You and I share a professional relationship that is very important to me. I believe it would be in the best interest of said relationship to pretend the episode in the park never happened. Is that clear?”

Matt shoved his hands in his pocket and looked distantly over my shoulder. “Crystal. Anything else?”

I sighed. Wonderful. On top of everything else I’ve been dealing with in the last couple of days I now had to deal with Matt’s bruised ego. Needless to say, after his sorry display of jealousy, I wasn’t in the mood to placate him so I’m afraid my temper got the best of me. “Listen, I respect you as an officer of the law and my supervisor. I think when it comes to law enforcement, you’ve got a sensible, intelligent and direct approach to making this team an effective defensive against crime in this city. But, when it comes to interpersonal relationships, you’ve still got a few things to learn. I’ve suspected you were interested in me for a while. I believe you’ve tried to subtly let me know that you were on several occasions. I tried to be polite and nice by ignoring your overtures and not giving you any encouragement. I’d hoped you’d eventually understand that I didn’t return your feelings. Now, while that might seem like an underhanded way to deal with the situation, you didn’t give me much option. Frankly, if you’d actually expressed your interest openly, I would have been able to let you know that I was involved with someone else and that would have been the end of it, right? We wouldn’t have ended up in this mess.”

He nodded but declined to answer at that point.

“And it’s not personal, Matt. Not really. I think you’re a great guy but I’m in love with someone else and that’s all there is to it. I would like us to be able to put this behind us. Think you can manage that?”

“Of course. Like you said, let’s forget it ever happened.”

“Okay, then.” This time I was the one who reached for the door and held it open behind me for Matt to follow me in. Foolishly I’d hoped that clearing the air in that open forthright manner would be a solid step towards putting things right between us…but I was wrong. I was treated to an even colder silence as we maneuvered our way through the building and the elevator to our floor. Perfect. My patience level was at a very low threshold for this kind of thing. I simply didn’t have time for drama. We were about to meet up with Gil and I was going to have to pretend that nothing was wrong. I just hoped my acting skills were up to par.

When the elevator doors opened to our floor, Matt exited swiftly, heading directly to his office but I was caught by our floor desk sergeant. “I don’t see Dr. Grissom.”

I shook my head. “No, Bill. He didn’t go with us.”

Bill shook his head with a smile. “I know that. A few minutes after you’d left, he came to the desk asking for directions. I told him you wouldn’t be long and it would be better to wait but he was insistent.”

“That’s odd. We should have seen him in passing. How could we have missed each other?”

“I don’t know-“

There was a ‘bing’ behind us and the elevator doors slid open once more. “There he is,” I said with a bright, welcoming smile. “Bill was just telling me that you’d come after us. I’m surprised we didn’t see you.”

“I think I took a wrong turn,” Gil replied quietly, his lips turned up just enough to appear casually unconcerned.

“Sorry to hear that, Dr. Grissom. I guess my directions weren’t clear enough.”

“Wasn’t your fault, sergeant. I wasn’t paying attention. Sort of caught up in my own thoughts.” Again, that weird, supposedly easy-going smile appeared.

His expression struck me as very odd. I didn’t remember ever seeing quite that look on his face before and his eyes were very dark…a noticeable contrast to his ‘open’ stance. After throwing a polite thank-you to Bill I drew him away a little before asking. “Are you alright? Tired?”

“Headache,” he said. “You don’t look that well yourself.”

“Thanks.” I winked at him to take the bite out of the sarcastic reply. “I’m about ready to call it a day. This might have been a little too much to handle so quickly after getting out of the hospital. Whatsay we corner Matt, deal with the rest of the debriefing as quickly as possible and head home to bed.” It was a simple offer; the first thing that entered my head actually, but Gil responded in a way that melted my worries.

His eyes grew warmer, his body shifted intimately into my space and his hand gently brushed my curls back behind my ear. “Best idea you’ve had all day. Exactly my thoughts but with one small alteration.”

“And that would be?”

“That we actually post-pone the rest of the debriefing for another day. I was serious when I said you didn’t look well.”

I groaned. “There’s nothing I’d rather do but…I’m sure there’s not much left and we don’t know what your schedule’s going to be. I mean, we’re pushing the limits as it is, right? Matt won’t be happy if you get called out of town suddenly and this case is left hanging.”

For a moment, it looked as though Gil was going to argue with me but then he gave in with a nod and turned to go down the hall. I followed suit but hadn’t made it more than two steps before Bill called my name. “Sara. Almost forgot. There’s a delivery here for you.” He reached below the desk but came back empty handed. “Hmmm. Was here a minute ago.”

“I could come back-“ I started but got no further.

“No, no, just give me a second. Couldn’t have gone far.”

I nodded, biting my lip and glanced at the clock. The second turned into a minute and the minute to five as he not only searched his counter but the shelves behind it. “I swear it was – oh, here we are. Right under my nose.” He retrieved a plain wrapped box from the depths of the counter and presented it like a prize.

“Oh. Thanks.” I accepted the parcel he handed me absently, anxious to catch up to Gil. “Appreciate it. Have a good night,” I told him and scampered off down the hall. I wasn’t thrilled about Gil and Matt being in the same room together by themselves for very long. Who knew what kind of mood Matt was in at the moment. I dropped the parcel in my purse and hurried down the hall.

Turns out I needn’t have worried. Gil was leaning against the window discussing baseball and the talent line-up the Giants had managed to pull together this season. “They may have a pretty good shot,” Gil was saying as I entered the room.

“Cubs are strong too,” Matt said, from his seat on the edge of his desk. “Pitching staff is top notch.”

“No argument there,” Gil said. “Hey Sar. All set?”

“Yep. Here I was feeling guilty about holding up our meeting and you two are talking baseball.”

Matt waved me off. “I think we covered everything we needed to. Gil can tell you about the rest of his dealings with the FBI at home. I’ve already heard most of it from Gil and Agent Salizar.”

“Oh, well that’s great,” I said despite the fact that a part of me was miffed that they’d made that decision without me. “It’s all settled then. Shall we head out?” I asked Gil.

He nodded, and held out a hand to Matt. “This may be the last time I see you before I head back to Las Vegas. Should anything come up, you know how to reach me. I plan to be at Sara’s number for the rest of the week.” He moved towards the door but then something had him turning back. “Actually…hold that thought. Sar, seeing as you’ve got some leave time coming-“

“Translation…since you’ve been unofficially suspended for two weeks.”

“I was trying to put a positive spin on it,” Gil said with a chuckle.

“I’m a big girl. Let’s call a spade a spade.”

“Fine. Whatever. Anyway, as I was saying, since you’ve suddenly got a lot of time on your hands, why don’t we take off for a few days…somewhere warm where no one knows us.”

To say I was surprised was an understatement. Neither Gil nor I were creatures of impulse so the suggestion really came at me from left field. “Um…um…sure…I mean it sounds wonderful but can you really take more time away from the lab? I thought they needed you back?”

“There’s nothing pressing. Whatever crisis they were in they managed to deal with without my services. I’ve accumulated about three weeks worth of sick-leave. I’m sure they can continue to manage without me if I take advantage of that now.”

“Then…then…if you’re sure…yes, I’d love to go. It’s been a while since we’ve been away. Yes. Let’s do it.” It was a little out of character for both of us but maybe it was just what we needed. Speaking of out of character, on the tail end of my agreement, Gil bent down and dropped a kiss on my lips. Not just any kiss. Not a polite little smooch or a happy little thank-you kiss. No, this was a full blown, ‘I’ve missed you like hell and want to crawl into your pants as soon as I get you alone kiss.’ The action itself caught me off-guard…the delivery just about blew my mind. All I could think was, “Holy Crap, what’s gotten into him?” and then I couldn’t think at all.

It was Gil who ended the kiss and pulled back to address Matt. “Well, I guess that’s settled,” he murmured, his voice gruff with emotion. “Give us a couple of hours to figure out where we want to go and we’ll call and leave you a number so that you can reach us if you need to.”

Matt folded his arms and nodded coolly. “Good plan. You two have fun.”

Gil was already pushing me out the door. “Don’t worry. We will.”