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Last Chance	By : Hazeleyed Category: CSI > General Views: 37275 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Disclaimer: C.S.I still not mine; I'm just wishin' and hopin'.

Title: Last Chance

Author: hazeleyes57

Rating: R

Spoilers: Up to season 3 and the presence of Grissom’s beard, which we know about from season 4, but I haven’t seen much of it yet (season 4, not the beard).

Summary: G/S Sara needs Grissom’s advice.

Note: After the lovely reviews for my last outing I’m a little worried about trying anything else, but this idea popped in to my head while working on ‘Holiday ch8’. I haven’t seen the idea as a fic anywhere but I don’t pretend to have read them all anyway (I’m working on it!!).

Warning! This deals with fertility issues that some people may find upsetting. It’s not something that I take lightly and I mean no offence.

Last Chance

"There must be some mistake."

Sara Sidle stared at her Doctor but the woman's stark pronouncement was not retracted.

"I'm sorry Sara, but it's true. I've had the lab. run the tests twice with the same results."

"But I'm only thirty three! How can this be?"

The doctor clasped her hands together over Sara's notes and looked profoundly sorry to be giving her this news.

"It is unusual, but not unheard of. You are not the youngest case I have here at my practise. Two months ago I gave the same news to a woman of twenty eight."

Sara did not care at this moment about the other woman, only about herself. It wasn't every day that you were told that you were perimenopausal. If she was lucky she had maybe a year left before her periods stopped altogether. No periods meant…

"What are my chances if I want a baby?"

"At these levels of LH and FSH you probably have about seventy to eighty percent chance of conceiving naturally, but the percentages will fall and within a year, I'd estimate them down to ten to fifteen percent, maybe less. If you have any plans for a child, you and your partner will have to start trying now."

Sara was aghast. She had no idea that the deterioration would happen that quickly.

How things could change in such a short time. A few hours ago she had been blissfully unaware of Mother Nature’s time bomb.

Still in a state of shock, Sara thanked her Doctor and found herself out on the sidewalk, clutching a sheaf of leaflets about help groups, therapy and counselling.

She walked back to her Denali and got behind the wheel. She did not start the engine but remained in the parking lot.

She had so much to think about. Setting aside for the moment the post menopausal health issues, she concentrated on the more immediate problem.

Did she want a child?

A baby, like a husband, was something that she had thought about only in vague terms, for some time in the future. There was plenty of time, and let’s face it, there was only one person that she had thought of with any kind of seriousness and he was not in the picture. Well, not really. Not unless you counted lots of personal space violations, the flirting and the whole ‘chalk dust’ incident.

Which was not exactly a proposal.

She had had to wait until she was almost killed in an explosion before he called her ‘honey’.

Then he had turned down her dinner invitation.

Sara groaned aloud with remembered embarrassment.

“Find me a brick wall and I’ll just bang my head on it for a few years.”

Except now she did not have a few years. She had one year. A last chance to have a child of her own.

If that was what she wanted.

Sara started the engine and drove home to her apartment. She had finished her night shift before she went to see her doctor, and now she needed sleep, food, and to think. And not necessarily in that order.

She made it home without incident and managed to have some breakfast. She tried to sleep, but lay awake for a couple of hours, everything going round and round in her head.

She gave up in the end and took a sleeping tablet.

She managed to drop off to sleep eventually but it was very restless and plagued with nightmares.

She dreamt that she was in a large empty house. Somewhere a baby was crying but every time she came close to finding it some shadowy figure would take the baby away and tell her that she couldn’t have it.

Sara woke up crying, her face wet with tears.

She didn’t need a shrink to figure out the message.

She needed to talk to someone about this. Her first instinct was to think of Grissom. He had been her tutor, her mentor, and for a long while a good friend. She valued his opinion despite the whole ‘unrequited love’ thing.

But this was too close to home.

Babies meant sex, usually, and she couldn’t see Grissom being comfortable with the conversation.

Catherine. No, respect yes, but not close personal buds.

Warrick and Nicky. Nah, male and squirmy. She’d still have to look them in the eye at work.

She was back to Grissom again. Her mind wouldn’t leave the poor guy alone.

Crap.

Sara sat upright on her couch as a thought crossed her mind.

She would go and see Grissom about this problem, but present it to him as the dilemma of ‘a friend’ of hers.

He would probably see through it in a minute, but so long as they both pretended that they were talking about a third party, they could probably get through it.

Sara thought about discussing it on the ‘phone with him, but she needed to see his reactions, so that she’d know what he really felt, as opposed to what he said. That meant going round to see him. Crap.

This wasn’t something that she could do during work hours. It wasn’t a conversation that she wanted to start half a dozen times if they kept being interrupted.

She looked at her watch. She would wait a few more hours; he was probably still asleep.

^^^^^^

Sara looked at her watch for the twentieth time and tutted. Normally time flew by for her, especially if she was caught up in some case or other at work.

Just because she needed to talk to Grissom – but also dreaded it – time seemed to crawl by.

She couldn’t settle enough to sleep any more herself, so she had dusted and vacuumed her apartment and cleaned out her fridge.

She spent the last hour on the Internet to see what she could find out about early menopause with regards to both her health and her fertility.

It was not happy reading.

She printed off several articles and a few research papers but couldn’t find anything that told her what she wanted to hear.

Sara made herself a coffee and sat cross-legged on her sofa, the papers scattered around her.

She picked up and read through the leaflets the doctor had given her, but they were no real help.

She sighed heavily, leaned back on the sofa and closed her eyes.

Did she or did she not want a baby?

Her brain supplied the answer almost immediately. Yes, one day, in the future, when the time was right. With the right person.

Trouble was, the future was right now. And the right person didn’t exist.

Who was she kidding?

The person she wanted to be with existed all right, he just was oblivious – no… he wasn’t even that; he just ‘didn’t know what to do about this’.

Crap. Lock us in a room with a bed and I’ll show him what to do about ‘this’.

Sara stopped herself from going down the well-worn path of what Grissom wanted from her. He gave with one breath and took away with the next.

Sometimes she wondered if he knew what he was doing to her. He seemed to play her like a fiddle. Every time she reached the end of her rope, he’d tie a little knot in it that made her hang on again.

She glanced involuntarily at the plant on the windowsill, smiling a little when she thought of the card that had come with it.

‘From Grissom’

Verbosity personified. Not.

She thought back to an earlier occasion when he had rendered her almost speechless.

To this day she couldn’t watch ice hockey without remembering his ‘beauty’ comment.

The moment had been over before she could marshal her thoughts and by then it had been too late.

Grissom had acted as if nothing out of the ordinary had been said. He had wittered on about starting from the other goal post - while she had been reminding herself to breathe.

Then she had found out about Lady Heather.

All he had had to do was ask and Sara would cheerfully have tied him up and whipped him if that’s what he’d wanted. Unfortunately at that time she wouldn’t have had a sexual motive. More like one of revenge.

Sara got up stiffly from the sofa, rubbing her legs to restore the circulation. She hadn’t intended to sit for that long. She felt nervous and jittery and the coffee had probably been a bad idea. She headed for the bathroom.

While she was in the shower she rehearsed what she would say to Grissom.

‘Hi, I need your advice. ‘A friend’ has just discovered that her biological clock is faulty and that the alarm should have gone off years ago. Now it’s on a countdown to zero and she has less than a year left before…there will be no chance of a child of her own. Do you think that she should try to have her own child now, despite less than ideal circumstances, or should she wait until the dust has settled and adopt, or give up the idea of a baby at all? Oh, and by the way, she’d have to use a sperm bank because there is no guy on the scene.’

Unfortunately she could imagine Grissom’s expression at this point and it would not look like he was thinking, ‘Wow, I’d love to discuss this with you. Sit down and I’ll get coffee.’

Sara rinsed her hair free of conditioner. She usually did some of her best thinking in the shower. Something about the ionised water probably added a little zip to the old brainwaves.

In the bath she was usually sleepy or randy.

Depending on the company.

As usual her brain zapped back to Griss.

Pity his company was only ever in her imagination.

“Not helping.”

Sara chastised herself for trying to side-track.

Fifteen minutes later she was dressed and drying her hair into a straight bob. She was wearing a comfortable pair of black pants and a white sleeveless T. She applied her usual make up, nothing extra that might make Grissom wonder about her motives for visiting him at home. She didn’t want to make him any more nervous than necessary.

She was already nervous enough for the both of them.

Sara checked her watch one last time. Grissom should definitely be awake now.

Her hand hesitated over the telephone and she wondered if she should let him know that she was coming over.

Nah.

It wasn’t until she was halfway to his place that all the reasons that she should have called came to mind.

He might be out, or still asleep, or – God forbid – he might have company. Or he might be in the shower. She allowed herself to think about that for a few moments. It cheered her.

Sara parked the Denali in the space next to Grissom’s, knowing that his townhouse had two allocated spaces.

He was either in, or out on foot, which meant that he wouldn’t be far away.

Sara’s heart was in her mouth by the time that she reached Grissom’s door.

She wiped her damp palms on the back of her pants, and double-checked that she looked okay. She hitched the strap of her purse more firmly over her shoulder and straightened her back.

Okay, she could do this.

This was Grissom, her mentor, and her friend. His advice would help. All would be clear.

Sara swallowed nervously and before she could talk herself out of it, she quickly rang the doorbell.

She mentally reviewed her ‘shower’ speech. A minute passed, which is a long time to wait at a door. Her heart sank. All this angst and he was out. One more try, just in case.

Sara rang the bell again and after a few moments she heard the door being unlocked.

The door opened and Grissom stared at her with shocked surprise.

Sara felt awful. She had clearly woken him up. He was in a robe and his hair was mussed.
She was unable to stop herself from checking him out, then felt herself flush when their eyes finally met and she realised that his cool blue gaze contained awareness of what she had been doing.

Her speech deserted her. Grissom’s expression changed from surprise to curiosity.

“Sara?”

He waited for her to say something, anything to explain her presence on his doorstep.

He had been surprised to see her here. At first he had wondered if she were a hallucination, brought about by the lack of sleep he had been suffering recently. Despite what his clothing – or lack of it – might suggest he had not been sleeping, merely lying in his bed wide-awake but exhausted.

He took pity on her in the end and stood back to open his door further. She was stressed about something he knew by the very fact that she was here at all.

“Since you’re here, you might as well come in.”

Grissom turned away from the door and went back inside the large airy main room of the open plan townhouse. The blinds at the windows along the right hand wall were angled to allow diffuse sunlight to warm but not overwhelm the living space.

As Grissom walked over to the kitchen bar to make some coffee – more out of social habit than a desire for the drink – he mused upon the Chinese saying ‘be careful what you wish for’.

He had been lying in bed not fifteen minutes ago wishing that he could retrieve the friendship that he and Sara had shared for so many years. Wished for the opportunity to talk to her without the interruptions at work.

And now, here she was.

He looked up to see if she had entered the house or turned tail and run.

Sara did not think that Grissom’s welcome had been that welcoming. He didn’t give any indication if he cared one way or the other if she went or stayed.

Jeez, great start to their ‘chat’, him pissed that he’d been woken up.

She walked slowly into the main room after quietly closing the front door.

Grissom looked up at her as she stood hesitantly by the dining table, looking at him. She finally found her voice.

“I’m sorry to bother you. I thought that you’d be up – awake – by now. Do you want me to go?”

Grissom appeared to give it some thought while Sara silently squirmed.

Finally he shook his head as he put two mugs out on the counter for the coffee.

“No, I wasn’t…I was awake already.”

He changed his mind mid thought. Sara already looked as if she was thinking of bolting and he had to admit to some curiosity about the purpose of her visit.

“Oh.”

Sara had trouble meeting Grissom’s gaze. Every time she looked at him she had to fight the urge to mentally remove the robe and imagine him naked. He’d already caught her looking at him in a less than professional manner once and she didn’t want to make him annoyed.

Grissom correctly interpreted her skittish gaze and a slightly sadistic streak in him wanted to make her uncomfortable with his state of undress. Lord knows she had made him uncomfortably aware of her on more than one occasion, even if she hadn’t known that she was doing it.

He sighed inwardly.

“Take a seat, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Without waiting for a reply he headed into his bedroom and dressed quickly in jeans and a polo shirt. He combed his hair and smoothed a hand over his beard. He kept it trimmed short in deference to the heat in Vegas and it looked tidy enough. He thought that he looked acceptable when he had a quick glance in the mirror.

He didn’t examine his motive for wanting to look good.

Grissom had no idea that he looked like he’d just stepped off a yacht or that the barefoot and bearded look was very ‘in’ at the moment.

Sara had taken a seat at the dining table. She felt that her conversation would go a little better with the table between her and Grissom rather than seated side by side on the brown leather couch.

She looked up when he returned, feeling both disappointed and relieved that he had dressed. He looked very attractive and as usual a frisson of awareness pulsed through her body.

She watched him cross to the percolator and pour out two mugs of coffee. He did not ask her preference but added lo-fat cream without sugar, the way that she usually had it at work.

Grissom crossed back to the dining table and placed the mug in front of her. He took a seat at the table. Sara held the coffee but didn’t move to pick it up. She briefly met his gaze.

“Thanks.”

Grissom nodded once in acknowledgement. He leaned to his right, resting his elbow on the arm of his chair, and moved his hand to rest two fingers on his cheek, the thumb and two smallest fingers under his chin. He raised his eyebrows in the universal gesture of ‘so what do you want?’

Sara knew that the time had come. She partially chickened out and looked at the surface of her coffee instead of Grissom.

“I…erm…got a call today from a friend of mine back in ‘Frisco. She and I go way back.”

Sara paused, her heart going like a trip hammer. Grissom didn’t interrupt or prompt her, for which she was grateful.

“She’s had some bad news recently. Had a routine medical and discovered that she’s going through premature menopause. She…ah…she’s only in her early thirties and it’s kinda thrown her for a loop, y’know?”

Sara didn’t expect a reply to her rhetorical question so she soldered on. As she was looking more at the coffee than Grissom, she failed to see his expression become more alert as he listened.

“Anyhow, she’s been told that she has less than a year left to get pregnant. Thing is, she wanted a kid later, when it was the right time, with the right guy, and all that stuff. Only now there will be no ‘later’. It’s now or nothing. And it might still be ‘nothing’ anywise. I don’t know what to tell her. Should she try now, or wait until it’s all over and adopt or just not bother?”

Grissom shifted in his seat and reached out for his coffee. He looked at Sara but she wouldn’t meet his eye.

His instincts told him something was ‘off’ with this conversation.

“What does your friend’s husband think?”

“She’s not married.”

“Her partner?”

“No partner, significant other, live in lover or potential thereof. It will have to be a ‘bank’ job.”

Grissom put his coffee down untasted, the stirrings of alarm making him cautious.

“What precisely do you want my help for?”

Sara met his gaze for the first time and held it steadily.

“I’m too close, I can’t see the wood for the trees. I don’t know what to do, I mean, to tell her what to do. You can look at it more logically than me.”

Grissom sifted through what had been said and what had been left unsaid.

“Logically the most sensible direction would be to let nature take its course. If she is single, works full time and I presume has limited funds and no overwhelming desire to be a mother, my advice would be to forget it.”

Grissom saw Sara’s face fall. Her gaze dropped to her coffee again so he couldn’t read her as well as he would have liked.

He felt the strangest urge to comfort her with a different response.

“However, if you look at it from the more emotional point of view and she really wants to go to all the trouble and expense of this process, then she will have her answer. Does she want a child and how much? Those are the questions your friend should ask herself.”

There was silence for several moments while Sara contemplated what he had said. She took a sip of her coffee, then another, stalling.

Sara realised that she had the answer to her question already. She did want a baby. She would try for six months and if it failed to result in a child of her own she would give up. Grissom had merely helped her to focus her thoughts. As soon as he had said ‘forget it’ she had instinctively reacted with a strong ‘no’ in her head. She wanted a child more than she had realised. Enough to not be concerned about any other consequences. Other women were single parents, they coped with a child and a career. She was sure that she could too.

Grissom watched the play of emotions over Sara’s face and knew the moment that she had reached some sort of conclusion.

Sara looked up from her coffee and smiled at Grissom.

“Thanks, you have helped me. I know what to do now.”

She started to stand up. Grissom waved her back down to her seat.

“Finish your coffee.”

“It’s okay, I - ”

“Just drink your coffee Sara.” He looked at her thoughtfully. “There’s some other advice you might want to pass on to your friend.”

Sara sat back down abruptly. She recognised the look in his eyes as the one he got at work when he knew that the interviewed suspect had said something to give himself away.

“What’s that?”

Her voice sounded wary. She wondered if she imagined the slight emphasis that he put on the word ‘friend’.

“Tell your friend to go to a reputable sperm bank. There have been cases recently, as you know, about incorrect samples going to the wrong patients – you may recall the twins. That case where the consultant ‘supplied’ every patient himself. There was a case in Britain last year where the consultant at a private hospital ‘lost’ frozen embryos but told the women that they had been implanted when they hadn’t. You can’t be too careful.”

Sara’s jaw had begun to drop as Grissom went through his ‘advice’. Where did he get all this stuff? Another obscure forensic journal with a lengthy title?

He wasn’t finished.

“Tell her to make sure that they screen for sexually transmitted disease including HIV, all of the hepatitis variants, and drugs of abuse, then - ”

“Grissom!”

Sara wondered for a bizarre moment if he were trying to put her off. Or rather, her ‘friend’.

“Yes?”

He looked surprised at the interruption.

Sara continued more gently.

“I’ll tell her all that. I’m sure that they have some sort of accredited medical register for that sort of thing.”

Grissom contrived to look doubtful.

“Even so, she should be very careful. How well do you know this friend of yours?”

“As well as I know myself.”

And that, thought Grissom, was probably the truest thing that she had said today.

The silence seemed to Sara to drag on while Grissom looked at her. She had no idea what he was thinking.

Which was just as well.

Grissom was dismayed. He needed a few moments to process what he had heard. He had all the information he required, it just needed putting in order.

The first thing that he was virtually certain about was that Sara’s perimenopausal friend did not exist.

Which meant that she was talking about herself.

Sara would not have come to his place to ask him about a ‘friend’. She would have dropped her question into casual conversation at work, just a quick survey of his opinion. She had come here today because she did not want to be interrupted in the middle of such an intensely personal conversation.

He absently watched the colour come and go in Sara’s face. She was probably rehashing everything in her head as she drank her coffee.

Grissom sat behind his poker face façade, trying to leave Sara with her dignity intact. The friendship that they had even five years ago would have enabled him to comfort her, but now he was keenly aware of the awkwardness between them. He regretted the distance that separated them, leaving her unable to confide the truth to him or take comfort from him.

Grissom stirred at last and picked up his coffee. He took a drink and carefully replaced the mug on the table.

Sara watched every move while trying not to be noticed noticing.

Grissom looked at Sara and waited until he had established eye contact.

“In that case, tell your friend to stop smoking, drinking and partying, and to start taking folic acid supplements. Tell her to go and see the OB/GYN that will be looking after her to see if they run a pre-pregnancy health program. If they don’t, tell her to find another OB/GYN.”

Sara’s eyebrows were trying to climb into her hairline. She couldn’t have been more surprised if Grissom had sprouted wings. Her mouth had dropped open half way through his first sentence. He never ceased to amaze her with either astonishing gaps in his knowledge or these sudden mines of information on subjects that you didn’t expect him to know much about.

She suddenly realised that he was waiting for a response from her.

“Ah, yeah, I…I’ll make sure that she does that.” Her eyes slid away from his then came briefly back. “Thanks.”

Grissom shrugged, aiming for a careless ‘it’s nothing’ look.

There was a long moment of silence that Sara did not know how to fill. She couldn’t think of anything to say without resorting to talking about work.

Grissom managed not to jump when Sara suddenly stood up. She waved vaguely at her still half-full coffee mug.

“Thanks for the drink, but I gotta go. Thanks again for your help.”

Sara made it half way to the door before Grissom’s voice stopped her.

“Wait.”

Sara halted and looked back at him over her shoulder.

Grissom hadn’t moved from the table when he had called her, but now he stood and crossed to within two feet of her, so she had to turn and face him. His blue gaze seemed to penetrate straight through her and for a second she felt panicky, thinking that he had figured it all out.

“One other important thing. If your friend is determined to do this - to take this course of action - then I strongly advise her to confide in her manager. It will make things a lot easier at work if her department head or whoever knows that she may be under additional stress and may need short notice time off for various appointments. Or because she is ill.”

Grissom had seen the momentary panic in her eyes and knew now for certain that there was no ailing friend.

Sara nodded jerkily.

“Yeah, good idea. I’ll be sure to tell her.”

She spun away from him and walked to the door. Grissom got there first and their hands met unexpectedly on the door lock.

Sara pulled back as if stung, trying to hide the fact that his touch had been electrifying.

She felt her face flame and her gaze involuntarily locked with Grissom’s. She couldn’t tear herself away.

She expected a degree of sympathy for her ‘friend’ or maybe nothing at all in Grissom’s eyes, but what she didn’t expect to see was the flare of desire that told her that he had felt the shock too. For a long moment she forgot the original purpose of her visit.

Grissom finally blinked and released Sara from his thrall, belatedly opening the door for her.

She nodded an embarrassed ‘thank you’ and looked down at the floor as she left the town house.

It wasn’t fair.

He even had nice feet.

^^^^^^

For the second time in the same day, Sara did not start up the Denali and pull away immediately. She put both hands on the top of the wheel and rested her forehead on the back of her hands, her eyes closed. She resisted the temptation to bang her head on the wheel.

That had been an exhausting few minutes. She couldn’t believe that she had been side-tracked completely by the simple touch of Grissom’s hand to hers.

Even worse was the confirmation that he was not entirely unmoved by it himself.

Not that he had any intention of doing anything about it.

Sara sat up slowly and opened her eyes.

Now that she had spoken to Grissom and decided on a course of action, she felt curiously deflated, as if she should be more excited somehow. She started up the engine and reversed out of the parking space.

She was halfway home when she isolated the cause of her depression.

Despite any and all signs to the contrary, in her heart of hearts she had always believed that any child that she had would have been fathered by Grissom. It was sobering to realise that it was never going to happen now.

By the time Sara reached her apartment she was barely keeping it together. She dropped her purse on her couch as she went through to her bedroom. She sat down on the side of her bed and plucked a tissue from the box on the nightstand. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose, but fresh tears ran down her face. The shock of everything caught up with her and she turned her face into her pillow and cried her heart out.

Eventually she had no more tears left to shed and exhausted, she slipped into sleep.

^^^^^^

Grissom walked past the break room on his way to his office. As usual he glanced in to see if anyone else was in yet.

The room was empty but he didn’t need to look at his watch to know that he was at least half an hour early. Just a few minutes ago he had managed to avoid bumping in to Conrad Ecklie. If nothing else it got his night off to a better start than it would have if he had been stopped by the day shift supervisor.

He was only mildly concerned that Sara did not appear to be in yet. Unless, of course, she was already busy in one of the labs.

With the ease of long practice he tried to put Sara to one side in his thoughts. Sometimes it was more difficult to do than at other times and tonight looked like being one of those nights.

He reached his office and stowed his briefcase besides his desk. He checked on his eight legged friends and turned his day planner to the current date, checking at the same time to see if he had to be anywhere else tonight. No.

Grissom dropped the post he had collected downstairs on his desk. He had a quick run through the envelopes, sorting them in to ‘now’ and ‘later’ piles. He dropped two pieces of junk mail in to the circular ‘never’ file on the floor.

He seated himself at his desk and picked up the assignment slips to organise who he thought best suited to each job. There was one that would suit Sara if he were partnered with her. He had been guilty in the past of deliberately not working with her because he wanted to avoid ending up in some sort of discussion about their ‘situation’. He came to realise that he had been unfair to her, because, give her her due, she had tried to be professional about it.

Most of the time.

He had realised that it was his problem too, not just hers. He was the one that was worried HE might bring up the subject.

Tonight was different. If Sara was going to admit that she was the ‘friend’ that they had discussed and tell her ‘boss’ about her plans, he wanted to give her the opportunity to do it away from the rest of the staff.

He sighed. Sara was centre stage again.

^^^^^^

Catherine Willows looked at the watch on her slim wrist for the second time in as many minutes. She knew that Gil was in, she had seen his Denali on her way in. She was surprised that she hadn’t seen Sara this evening.

Odd that neither of them had made an appearance yet, even if the shift had only just started.

Warrick leaned back on his seat, laying an arm along the back of the seat beside him. He observed Catherine’s impatient glance at her watch and wondered if anything was bugging her. She had been sharper and more ‘savvy’ lately; almost aggressive in her ‘I’m coping just fine’ attitude. He wondered if she was overcompensating, feeling – erroneously – that she had something to prove. It occurred to him that Eddie’s death had probably added to her burdens of single parenthood. Not that Lindsey was a burden in any way whatsoever, but no one could pretend that it was easier with one adult instead of two raising a family.

Not for the first time he contemplated asking Catherine out on a date. Also not for the first time he talked himself out of it. He didn’t know if she was ready to start seeing anyone yet. He was keenly aware of the working dynamics of the night shift. The obvious tension between Sara and Grissom had become a factor in decisions at work, even though he thought that nothing had happened between them. Admittedly he and Catherine didn’t have the same kind of grade difference, but he was concerned all the same and that made him hesitant.

Some days it was a relief just to get out of the building without having told either Gil or Sara to just screw each other and get over it. He felt a bubble of laughter rise up in him as he visualised the probable expression on Gil’s face. Man, he would just die.

Warrick coughed into his hand to hide the grin on his face.

Nick turned to Warrick and saw his amused eyes above his fist.

“Hey, War?”

Nick’s voice was quiet, just getting Warrick’s attention.

“Yeah?”

Nick grinned.

“Heard this great joke.”

“Shoot.”

“There’s this guy lyin’ in a hospital bed, real sick, like. He’s got tubes in his nose and chest, he’s linked up to the heart monitor, and he’s wearin’ an oxygen mask too. This nurse comes on to the ward, it’s her first day, and this guy says to her ‘Are my testicles black?’ and she don’t know what to do. She says ‘I’m not qualified to check.’ The guy says ‘please nurse, just tell me, are my testicles black?’ and the nurse, she thinks what harm can it do to check? So she pulls back the covers and checks out his meat and two veg. She covers him back up and says ‘as far as I can see, they are fine.’ The guy pulls off his oxygen mask and says, ‘That was very nice thank you, but can you tell me if my test results are back?’”

There was a split second of silence before Warrick guffawed with laughter. The more he thought about the joke, the funnier it got. Nicky was grinning too as Warrick continued to laugh, attracting Greg and Catherine’s attention, and that of Grissom, who had just entered the break room.

Warrick wiped his streaming eyes and tried to contain himself.

Nick held his clenched fist out horizontally to Warrick and Warrick shook his head in admiration as he butted his fist to Nicky’s in salute. Still grinning, he muttered just loud enough for Nick to hear.

“ You better watch yourself. Payback’s a bitch.”

Nick just smirked.

Grissom cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention.

They settled down and he distributed their assigned tasks. He kept Sara’s and his in reserve, aware – as everyone else was – that Sara was not present. Her presence was not so vital that it was worth trying her cell yet. He continued with the briefing, ensuring that everyone present was up to speed on all current cases.

Just as Grissom and Catherine were leaving the break room, Sara turned the corner at the far end of the corridor. She was wearing her lab. coat and carried a tray holding several evidence bags. When she saw the others leaving the break room her consternation was obvious. She looked at the wall clock and muttered under her breath. Grissom’s lip twitched when he read her lips.

His amusement faded when it became obvious to him that Sara had been crying recently. She looked pale and her eyes were bloodshot. His concern for her made his voice come out more gruffly than he had intended.

“You missed the assignment briefing.”

Sara looked momentarily taken aback, her glance flicking between Catherine and Grissom, but then her expression closed.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I lost track of time. What did I miss?”

Grissom looked at the contents of the tray Sara was holding and realised that she must have been working for at least an hour or more on the bags.

“You’re with me. I’ll fill you in on the way out to our DB. Five minutes.”

Sara nodded, making an effort not to look surprised at the unexpected pairing with Grissom, then moved past him on her way to store the evidence under lock and key.

Grissom was aware that Catherine had watched the whole interchange and was now itching to say something about Sara missing the briefing and not being chastised. He turned back to her and nodded towards Warrick, who was patiently waiting for Catherine.

“Your ride’s ready.” He said, sounding innocent.

Catherine gave him a double take, but couldn’t decide if Gil was pulling her chain or not.

“So he is.” She gave him a searching look but didn’t push it. “Later.”

She turned on her heel and strode away without bothering to wait for a response.

Grissom looked after her for a moment then turned back - the way Sara had gone - to go to his office.

Several minutes later Grissom looked up from his desk to see Sara standing in the doorway of his office. She seemed strangely reluctant to enter the room. When she saw that she had his attention she smiled too brightly and said that she was ready.

Grissom had already completed reading the report in front of him but he left the file open.

“Come in, I won’t be a minute.”

At his direct invitation Sara entered the office but remained standing beside one of the shelf units, ostensibly looking at the specimens.

Grissom waited to see if Sara was going to refer to their conversation at his house, but after a couple of minutes it was clear that she wasn’t going to, so he closed the file, stood up and collected his kit.

As the two of them left the office, Sara gradually relaxed. She had been worried that Grissom was going to ask her about her ‘friend’ when she arrived at his office, but he had obviously decided not to bring the subject up.

She turned her mind to the fact that she was working with Grissom for the first time in a while and decided that she would just try to enjoy it, as she would have done a few years ago.

She made a conscious effort to leave the baggage behind but it was easier said than done.

Grissom turned to her as they walked.

“We have to go via the stock room. I need to pick up some print lifting tape and some more swabs, I’m down to my last twenty.”

Sara made herself look casually at him.

“Sure, no problem. I could pick up a few bits myself while I’m there.”

They both headed for the stock room, a smallish room that was windowless because it was internal. It always struck Sara as odd, like a make-work room, because the rest of the building was predominately glass walled on the inside.

As soon as she followed Grissom inside, the fire door closer shut the door automatically. The heavy door muffled the sounds of the busy staff outside and made Sara feel very aware that she was alone with Grissom.

It felt very intimate, just the two of them.

With brisk economical movements Grissom collected the supplies he required and snapped his case shut.

Sara inwardly jumped at the sound. While she had been practically day dreaming Griss had finished. She hurriedly picked up a few things: tape, swabs, evidence bags and a handful of latex gloves from the ‘small’ size glove box. With Grissom looking at her with his eyebrows raised as if to say ‘you done yet?’ she jammed everything in her field kit case without looking too closely at where it was going. When her case wouldn’t close properly, Grissom calmly took hold of the single glove hanging out of the side of it and pulled it free. He handed the glove to Sara without saying anything, and for some odd reason she couldn’t explain she felt herself flush. She quickly flung the recalcitrant glove back in the case and slammed the lid.

Of course Grissom noticed her heightened colour.

Sara became even more flustered. She felt completely rattled and there was no reason for it at all.

She just had the bizarre feeling that Grissom had known what she had been thinking about the two of them being alone together.

With latex.

“You okay?”

Grissom’s enquiry seemed innocent enough but Sara wasn’t taking the chance of looking at him to find out. She turned and headed for the door, forcing herself not to hurry.

“Yep, sure. Fine. You ready to go?”

Grissom didn’t point out the obvious – that he’d been ready before Sara – but instead took it as a rhetorical question and followed behind her.

He filed away for later contemplation the feeling that something had happened here that he had missed. Sara was almost as skittish as she had been this morning at his townhouse.

Even though he was fully clothed.

As soon as Sara climbed in the vehicle beside Grissom she was transported back to this morning when their hands had collided on the door lock.

She wondered why she had this sudden extra awareness around him.

It was as if someone or something had turned up her senses. She picked up a combination of deodorant, a hint of toothpaste and the essential warm male smell that was unique to him.

She could hear the sigh of the car seat as Grissom climbed in the driver’s side, the slightly gritty sound of his shoes on the rubber mat in the footwell and the subdued tinkle of metal as he put the keys in the ignition.

She could see with startling clarity the way that his salt and pepper curls had already started to break free of the tidy comb through and her hand itched to touch them, to ruffle them further, leaving Grissom tousled and sexy.

Damn she had it bad today.

She felt hypersensitive with an extra awareness about her own body’s reactions to stimuli. She could feel the way her clothes touched and rubbed on her skin. The only comparable thing that she could think of was a mild case of sunburn. On top of that Grissom’s proximity was – as usual - making her aroused. Her nipples peaked and she clenched her thighs together to try to relieve the pressure at the juncture of her legs.

As soon as she had buckled up she folded her arms over her chest just in case he glanced at her during their journey.

Sara crossed her long legs at the knee and then realised how defensive she looked and felt silly. She uncrossed her legs, trying to make it look casual.

She didn’t dare look at Grissom.

She would be mortified if he were looking at her with the same knowing look that he had had this morning when she had been caught checking him out.

Thirty seconds later she risked a quick glance under the guise of reading a passing sign that she had read a hundred times before.

Grissom was looking forward at the slow moving traffic in front of the Denali, a frown of concentration on his forehead. He did not appear to have noticed what Sara was doing.

She knew as well as anyone that appearances could be deceptive.

Grissom was concentrating on his driving, taking care not to crowd the vehicle in front of him. He found that he was having to focus hard on the traffic because he was finding it more difficult than usual to ignore the woman seated beside him. Damn near impossible since this morning’s conversation.

So he was also mentally reciting the stages of meiosis.

‘The prophase, phase two, consisting of the five stages; leptotine, zygotine, pachytene, diplotene and diakinesis.’

For the less able the mnemonic ‘little zebras pee down drains’ had been employed as he recalled.

He hadn’t needed it.

He gritted his teeth as Sara moved in her seat again. She had hardly stopped squirming in her seat since she had got in the vehicle, and it was as distracting as hell.

Hence his biology revisit. It wasn’t helping the way that he hoped it would. He gripped the wheel firmly, his knuckles turning white.

He could smell her and it tantalised him. He knew that she – like Catherine – did not wear perfume to work in case it dulled their sense of smell at a crime scene. He figured that it must be her soap or shampoo. Maybe her shower gel.

That she used in the shower.

While showering.

Naked.

Blast. What came after the Prophase?

^^^^^^

Sara sighed heavily and put her ‘phone back in its rest. She crossed a line through another name on her shopping list. Unfortunately it was also the last name on it. A short expensive little list to be sure, but there weren’t as many fertility clinics as she would have expected in the greater Las Vegas area.

She had taken Grissom’s advice about her OB/GYN and inquired about a pre pregnancy health program. It turned out that her Doctor did run just such a program, and had a WebPage all about it. Grissom had been on the right track with the folic acid but the time window worried her because ideally she should have started the preparations months ago. Now she didn’t have the luxury of time. She had already lost one precious week, and recent blood tests had suggested that her first attempt should be made next week.

All she needed was a donor. Not much to ask really.

Sara stood up and stretched her arms up above her head, working the kinks out of her neck and back.

She prowled around her apartment, looking at but not seeing the rooms and their contents. She felt very restless and unable to settle. She wanted to be up and DOING something instead of this waiting around.

Of all the clinics that she had contacted, only one had been able to satisfy her stringent criteria about the safety aspects of the donor’s sample.

Unfortunately, she had been unable to shake her fears about ending up with the ‘wrong’ sample thanks to Grissom’s ‘advice’.

She wasn’t worried per se about ending up with a child that wasn’t from the donor of her choice, regardless of who the father was it would still be half her child and healthy. What she was worried about was ending up in a costly legal battle with the ‘father’s’ family if she ended up pregnant by a sample that had been destined for his wife.

Not for the first time Sara thought how odd this whole business seemed. How unfair it was that so many women became pregnant without even thinking about it.

She seemed to have met a lot of them this last week. Even one of the women on the day shift had just informed Ecklie that she was expecting her third. A ‘surprise’ pregnancy.

When she had been grocery shopping earlier, every other woman seemed to be pregnant. Sara knew that it was only because it was on her mind all the time, but fate seemed to be throwing it in her face.

Especially now that she had just cancelled the appointment that she had made at the only acceptable clinic.

She just couldn’t do it. She couldn’t trust her future and that of her potential child to a stranger. She needed to know who the donor was. The clinic had made it abundantly clear that there was no possible way that they would give that information out, and short of pouncing on the guy herself, no absolute watertight guarantee that she would receive his sample anyway.

When Sara passed by the breakfast bar for the fifth time she realised that her agitation was making her stressed and that she needed to relax. She went into the bathroom and ran herself a bath, filling the room with scented steam.

Tying her hair up in a high ponytail, she checked the temperature of the water and added a little more cold.

Satisfied that it was now as she liked it, she stripped off and stepped carefully into the bubble filled water. She slowly eased into the hot water and then leaned back to lay her head on the rim of the tub.

Sara’s eyes closed and she sighed softly. She felt weary down to the bone. It was at times like these that she wished that she had a close female friend that she could confide in and bounce ideas off. She toyed with the idea of talking to Catherine about her fears regarding the clinic.

She had her reservations about discussing it with her. Catherine was a street savvy ‘bull by the horns’ kinda gal and wouldn’t even pretend to be talking about a ‘friend’ if she thought that it was Sara’s dilemma. Having said that, she would be capable of giving her another point of view, that of a mother.

A mother – the same woman who had confessed without a shred of hesitation that she would kill to save her daughter’s life.

Scary.

Sara sighed again, stretching in the slight buoyancy afforded by the water. She supposed that she should wash soon, but she was comfortable and felt more relaxed than she had been earlier. She would wait until the water started to cool.

She picked up her sponge and squeezed it under the surface so that it picked up plenty of the fragrant water, and then pulled it up one arm, swapped hands and continued down the other arm. She closed her eyes again and refilled the sponge, dragging it from shoulder to shoulder across her chest. The combination of the textured sponge and the air hitting her wet breasts made her nipples pucker, and just like that, she was in her favourite Grissom fantasy.

Not that it took much these days.

Today’s fantasy of choice was the ‘I’m minding my own business in my bath when Grissom enters the room and takes over the sponging’.

It didn’t matter why he was in her bathroom – or, indeed, in her apartment, that was half the fun of fantasies, they didn’t have to be logical. Sara smiled at her own explanation as she continued to wield the sponge as if held by – here she gave a delighted shiver - Grissom.

Umm, now what would he be wearing? That short sleeve blue T-shirt that he was wearing at work a couple of days ago. It did wonderful things for his eyes. Not that they needed any help, those long lashes and the – no, no, she mustn’t detour. Clothes first. Jeans, yes, definitely jeans. Blue ones. Not too tight, but snug around the ass. Bare feet. She hated it when men stripped off and were left wearing just socks. It was even more depressing when she noticed the socks before their dicks.

That wouldn’t happen with fantasy Grissom. He had class. And lots of it.

The bathroom door would open slowly so that there would be no draught of cold air, and Grissom would enter. He would make eye contact immediately so that he could reassure her that she had a choice in the matter of his presence.

Of course there would be no question, his welcome assured.

He’d half smile, and tip his head in that adorable way of his as he looked at as much of Sara’s body as he could see beyond the bubbles. Then he’d say,

“Need a hand?”

Sara smiled up at her unexpected visitor and lifted the sponge just clear of the water.

“Anytime, if it’s you that’s offering.”

Grissom smiled fully, then padded over to the tub’s edge and took the sodden sponge from Sara’s hand. He encouraged her to sit up and then washed her back for her, carefully lifting her ponytail clear of her neck.

His hands were gentle, his touch sure. Sara’s skin raised in goosebumps and she shivered again with excitement.

“Cold?”

Grissom’s voice sounded just beside her ear. Sara shook her head.

“No.”

“Good.” His tone sounded indulgent, “Because you look amazingly hot from here.”

She looked up and right to meet his warm blue gaze. She looked him over and smiled lazily, the meeting of two kindred spirits.

“Backatcha.”

Grissom inclined his head in acknowledgement, his lips curved in a not quite smile as he concentrated on his enjoyable task.

He continued to move the sponge over Sara’s body, occasionally replenishing it with the warm water.

Sara lay back, both relaxed and enervated. She wanted to tear off Grissom’s clothes and drag him in the tub with her, but lacked the strength to lift even an arm out of the water, she was so comfortable.

After several minutes of exquisite pleasure Sara felt the sponge replaced by Grissom’s warm hand. He had lathered her soap and was now gliding over her body with even strokes. Her whole body felt as if it were supercharged and she had to resist the urge to thrust herself up into his grasp as he moved from her stomach to her breasts. She heard him chuckle quietly and knew that he had seen her hold back.

He decided to reward her patience by cupping one breast, using his fingers to tease her nipple into a bud. When that one was erect he moved to the other one and repeated his caresses. Sara moaned her pleasure, knowing that he liked hearing her respond to him, just as she took pleasure in listening to him.

Sara took hold of Grissom’s wet soapy hand and moved it unresistingly down to the juncture of her thighs. He followed her lead and slipped his middle finger unerringly through the curls to the swollen bud hidden there. As he pressed home she gasped, only to find it swallowed by Grissom’s mouth on hers. His tongue invaded her mouth even as his finger slipped easily between her other lips and into her heat.

Sara’s arms came up out of the water and clasped Grissom, unconcerned about getting him wet. He slid his left arm around her back and pulled her against his chest even as he kept up the pressure with his right hand, slipping a second finger to join the first.

Sara broke off the kiss, panting with arousal as she spiralled up through the layers of intensity, getting closer and closer to the end of her journey.

Grissom transferred his mouth to Sara’s damp neck, grazing her soft skin with his teeth, nipping gently then soothing after with his tongue.

Sara’s hips hitched in rhythm with the cadence of his hand and her body tightened its grip on his fingers. The bath water rippled in waves away from Grissom’s hand only to hit the walls of the tub and ripple back.

“Oohhh God! That is so good!” Sara moaned into Grissom’s neck. “You have no <gasp> idea!”

She felt his lips smile on her neck just before he lifted them enough to reply.

“I think I do.” He pulled back further so that he could look at her face, her eyes closed in ecstasy. His hand worked harder and faster. “ Come for me Sara, let it go.”

“Close! Oh so close!”

“Yes! God, I’m gonna fuck you so hard! Come for me baby!”

The unexpected promise pushed Sara over the edge into a climax of astonishing power and her cry of release echoed around the bathroom.

“Griisssom!”

For several minutes Sara lay in the cooling water, trembling with aftershocks. It was always the same when using Grissom in her fantasy. She could only imagine what he would be like in the flesh. Muy caliente.

^^^^^^
That evening at work Sara deliberately made an effort to avoid being in Grissom’s vicinity. The heightened awareness around him had faded slightly, but had not stepped back to normal. She had the nagging feeling that he knew what she was thinking and it made her feel a little freaked.

Grissom picked his pen up from his desk and tried for the third time to concentrate on the file in front of him. He was distracted, which was quite unlike him.

He was not actually aware of Sara’s avoidance tactics but – coincidentally - had not partnered himself with her on any new cases, merely maintained the one that they were currently working on. He had given her the opportunity to tell him about her ‘situation’ and she had not been forthcoming, so he decided to leave the ball in her court. Maybe he had put her off with his ‘help’.

That had been his intention.

He wasn’t proud of his behaviour. He couldn’t even rationalise it to himself as being in Sara’s best interests for her not to proceed with her plans. It was pure selfishness on his part. He didn’t want Sara to leave, pregnant with someone else’s baby.

Or even worse, remain at work, where he would have to watch her bloom and grow big with another man’s child.

Grissom realised with dawning horror exactly what his motivation had been.

Another man’s child.

Not his.

His pen dropped from nerveless fingers and he stared unseeingly at the open file in front of him.

After a moment he removed his glasses and rubbed his face with both hands.

He had said once – to Jim Brass he thought – that he never failed to be astonished by what people were capable of doing.

He had just astonished himself.

Instead of thinking about Sara’s plight – Christ, how he wished he could tell her how sorry he was – he’d been looking at it only in how it affected him. He was staggered at his capacity for self deception.

If anyone had asked him even a couple of months ago if he had given any thought to having a child within the next few years, he would have said no without even thinking about it. He might possibly have thought fleetingly of Sara and the ‘might have beens’ but he would never have spoken about it.

He was not cut out to be in that kind of a relationship – any kind of a relationship – with Sara or anyone else.

And yet he had tried to sabotage her attempts to make some sort of a future for herself.

It was not a pretty view of himself.

“Oh crap.”

“What’s up?”

Grissom nearly jumped out of his skin as he took his hands away from his face and opened his eyes.

Catherine stood inside the doorway of his office, her hands on her hips. Her expression was an odd mixture of concern and curiosity.

“Excuse me?”

Grissom stalled while he gathered his wits.

Catherine’s instincts were on red alert. Grissom didn’t swear without just cause, and now – judging by the expression on his face – he was trying to concoct a plausible lie.

That was two strikes - a third strike and he was out.

“I asked you ‘what’s up?’ ”

“Nothing. I just remembered something that I’ve forgotten to do. It’s nothing.”

Third strike.

“If you say so.”

Catherine’s tone indicated her disbelief but Grissom felt too wrong footed to challenge her on it.

“Was there something you wanted?”

Grissom wondered what she had come to his office for in the first place.

“Nope. Just passing. Heard you ‘crap’.”

Catherine turned smartly and exited the office, leaving Grissom looking surprised.

What was the world coming to?

Ten minutes later Brass rang with the location of a multiple, and things got a little busy for the night shift, leaving Grissom little time to think.

For which he was grateful.

^^^^^^

Sara’s night off, four days later, found her drowning her sorrows.

Her thoughts were spinning around in her head like a pet hamster on speed. She had had no luck on the donor front, and she had to concede the point that there was a possibility that she was having ‘no luck’ because she subconsciously did not want there to be any luck elsewhere.

There was one big solid thought in her head. One that she had been shying away from, because any time that she got near it, she came over all panicky.

There was only one suitable donor. Only one that she wanted. Only one acceptable one.

Grissom.

So it looked like she would not be conceiving anytime soon.

Especially not within the next two days, which, according to her Doctor, would be the optimum time for her first attempt.

Sara hoisted her large glass of wine up into the air in a parody of a toast to absent ‘friends’.

“To Grissom.”

She had not had any alcohol since she had first been given her devastating news, and that, combined with not having eaten for several hours was making her feel very unsteady. Her glass wobbled dangerously and a little wine slopped over the sides of the glass.

“I don’ think that I have ever… been so screwed… by someone I haven’t had sex with. I cannot believe that I can’t move on after all that you’ve done…”

Sara frowned.

“…or not done.”

She took another big swig of wine and refilled the glass again. It took two attempts to pick up the wine bottle and she found herself giggling.

“Corsit’sapity, ’cos, y’know, me and Sandra Bulloo…Bollub…Buller…oh bollocks, her in ‘T’weeks Notice’, we kin do the twisty pretzel an’ you don’ know what you’re missin’. I am soo hot! You should be proud that you’re the one that I want…”

Sara suddenly burst into the song from Grease. Lots of ‘Ooh ooh ooh’s’ and ‘oh yes indeed’s’

She put her glass down and stood up, none too steadily, in an attempt at Olivia’s wiggle. She tripped up and fell on the couch and found herself next to her telephone.

Suddenly it seemed like a brilliant idea to call ol’ Gilbert and tell him a few home truths.

If she could just focus a little on those teeny tiny buttons.

A few miles away, as the crow flies, Grissom was relaxing on his brown leather couch, feeling pleasantly drowsy. With any luck he would sleep well tonight. He was past due.

He folded the book that he was reading back and slipped a bookmark between the pages. He leaned forward and placed the book on his coffee table, then stood up.

His cell started to ring and he felt a start of dismay when he thought that it might be work calling him in. He really was weary.

To his surprise, Sara’s home number came up on the caller display.

He glanced at his watch, surprised that she would ring him at this late hour.

He opened the cell and uttered a fairly neutral ‘Hello?’

A few seconds passed and Grissom’s eyebrows threatened to climb in to his hairline.

“Sara, have you been drinking?”

He continued to listen for a few moments more then suddenly collapsed down on the couch behind him when his legs gave way.

At first he was as white as a sheet then that was superseded by a bright red flush.

“You want WHAT?!”

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TBC
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Last Chance