Disclaimer: I do not own CSI.

Rating: M

Spoilers: Grave Danger

Summary: How the GSR got together, with 100% more weird.

A/N: Shamelessly, shamelessly stolen. This fic is actually finished (!) but I'll be posting it in chapters as I tweak some things.

Little

Greg's birthday neatly coincided with Nick's return to work fulltime, so in one of those "let's make the most of life" moments friends have after a harrowing experience, they decided to celebrate with skydiving.

Thousands of feet in the air, Nick got the shakes and Greg threw up, and so their parachutes remained unopened and they came up with Plan B: the carnival. And everyone was invited.

"It's probably more dangerous than skydiving," Greg told his friends. "I mean, you've got poorly maintained metal death traps masquerading as rides, employees who use filthy port-o-potties and most definitely don't wash their hands before they prepare food, and then there are the carnies. I mean, it's almost a requirement to be a felon in order to get a job as a carnie. Am I right?"

Catherine groaned.

"Come on, when's the last time you've been to a carnival?" Nick said, smiling.

"My daughter's eighth birthday."

"Well, this is adults only." Greg fidgeted as he nodded in agreement. "Mostly adults," Nick added. "So, is everyone game?"

Grissom cringed. It wasn't that he didn't like carnivals, and it wasn't that he didn't like his co-workers. He just…didn't want to go to the carnival with his co-workers. Social situations were always awkward for him. He did better at work when he had a title and a job to do. His actions were pre-determined. And being the boss usually meant he didn't have to explain his actions to anyone.

It wasn't exactly the same when they were all off the clock. Eating at a diner with them every now and again wasn't too bad. They usually talked about their work and so there was often a place here and there where he could add to the conversation.

He supposed, due to his vast knowledge of all things amusement park-related, he could bring up some statistics about carnivals if he were to go, like the rate of accidents, for instance, or the average number of pedophiles hanging around the kiddie rides…yeah, he supposed he could do that.

Plus, he did like rides.

"I'm in."

Nick smiled and then looked at Catherine who sighed. "Okay. I'm in, too."

Warrick nodded his head and Greg nearly squealed with excitement.

"What about Sara?" Catherine asked.

"She's got court in the morning. I texted her and told her the details. She said she'll be there." Greg cocked his eyebrow at Catherine. "One of you is coming with me on the Tunnel of Love. You two can work it out amongst yourselves," he smiled slyly.

Grissom got up and left just as Catherine was asking the young birthday boy if he'd like to live to see another one.

It turned out to be as awkward as he thought it would be. Having forgotten to bring a present (seriously? A present? Were they in the third grade?), Grissom opted to spring for all of their tickets. They walked the grounds in a large, slightly cumbersome group. A cluster of adults -- sans couples, sans kids -- was an odd sight at a carnival. They were all dressed fairly casually, but still gave off an air of "We're here to investigate a murder." Grissom slowed his step and let them all go ahead of him. He didn't like going to amusement parks with people. It had always been a solitary pursuit for him. The only interaction he wanted was with the rides, and with his own adrenalin as it pumped through him, giving him a little thrill and reminding him that he was alive.

Because he didn't always feel that way.

Sara also strayed from the group, walking a little to the right with her hands hugged around her body to ward off a phantom chill. She wore jeans and a hoodie with a recycling symbol on it, and from behind she could've been a teenager. Grissom dug his hands in his pockets and looked at his shoes as they finally got to the line for the rickety roller coaster. The other four chatted on as they waited, but he and Sara stayed silent. Her eyes seemed unseeingly fixed on their surroundings, as if the flurry of lights and sounds put her in some sort of trance. When her gaze finally caught his -- for he had been staring -- she gave him a small, half smile, but her eyes had the same dark, lost look.

At some point, Warrick gave her a playful punch on the arm and asked her if she was excited.

"I…I think I'll hang back," she said. "I'm not a big fan of roller coasters."

"Oh, come on," Greg whined. "It's my birthday and--"

"Greg, how about Sara and I go look for one of those giant Pixie Stix for you?"

Greg seemed to weigh his boss' offer in his head carefully. "I want a blue one."

A thrill raced through Grissom at his small act of chivalry as he and Sara headed for the food stands in search of a plastic tube full of blue sugar for Greg.

"Thanks," Sara mumbled softly.

"No problem," he grinned. Really grinned. They quickly located the Pixie Stix for Greg. "There are much better roller coasters in Las Vegas -- ones that aren't operated by illiterate junkies," Grissom explained as he handed the carnival worker some money. "I know a guy who lets me do test runs at New York, New York. It's great. I could take you some time." Was he really doing this? Was he really -- did he just make a date? Grissom's heart beat so hard in his chest he was truly worried that Sara could hear it.

She smiled and lifted her hood up to cover her head as they turned to head back in the direction of the roller coaster. "I wasn't kidding when I said I wasn't into roller coasters. I'm not."

"You've just never been on the right one," he said, tugging her arm a little bit at the elbow, surprised at how comfortable he was. He, Gil Grissom, was on the verge of being smooth. He was about to talk a girl into going on a roller coaster with him, so he could hold her hand through the dips and swirls and maybe get to third base in the backseat of his car afterwards.

Okay, maybe not third base.

"Roller coasters…are scary," she said, her tone almost professorial.

He laughed as they continued to walk. "The only thing scary about roller coasters is the anticipation. Waiting on line is more nerve-wracking than anything else. But once you're on it, it's a piece of cake!"

"Listen to your dad, dear. There's nothing to be afraid of."

Until the end of his life, Grissom would swear it had been one of those moments when time literally stopped. His head seemed to jerk in slow motion as he turned to see who had uttered those words. There was an old, grizzled carnie pulling out a tool box from a locked storage bin at the foot of the coaster's exit. Grissom saw Sara, too, gaping at the man, her cheeks hot from apparent embarrassment.

Listen to your dad, dear.

The roar of the speeding car on the roller coaster did nothing to dull those words.

"I, uh…I see Greg. I'll go give him, uh…" She left.

The carnie -- all five feet of him -- looked up at Grissom. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I scare her away?"

"She's not my daughter." He had to say that out loud. He had to. The carnie's words had made him feel dirty. Old and dirty.

"Oh. Oh. Okay. It's just…she looks so…but hey -- whatever floats your boat, I say," the old carnie said as he wiped his brow with a dirty handkerchief. "Whatever tickles your pickle."

"She's thirty-four."

Again, it was information that the carnie didn't need to know, but Grissom had to say it anyway. She was thirty-four and not his daughter, and the rest was none of that man's business.

"I'm sorry, sir. Here, I'm going to work on the machine right over there." He pointed to a little glass arcade game with an animatronic Houdini-like character, complete with turban. "It keeps giving back double the amount of change after it reads your fortune. You can have a go, free of charge. I'll even let you keep the change."

Normally, he would've disappeared as fast as possible, leaving Sara and the team and the carnival so fast he'd break the sound barrier, but something about Houdini had Grissom's legs moving towards the game. The carnie knelt down to fiddle with the knobs just as Grissom's right hand reached out of its own accord and pressed the PLAY button. 'Make a wish,' came the command of a lit sign.

And he did.

Within seconds, the Houdini head began to move, working its jaw and tilting its head around as if it were chanting to the gods. The carnie jumped back and a small piece of paper shot out from a heretofore unseen slot. Grissom grabbed it.

"Your wish is granted," he read aloud.

"Hot damn, that thing ain't plugged in!" The carnie wiped his sopping temple. "I tell ya, I think it's time to retire that machine. Out with the old."

Grissom turned his head, and through the crowds was able to locate Sara, standing alone, her hood now once again at her shoulders. He didn't call out to her, yet she met his stare anyway.

Out with the old.

TBC...