TRUST PART TWO: TRUSTING THE TEAM

Summary: Grissom and Sara return from their vacation with their relationship in better shape than ever before, and go back to work. Cases, crimes and colleagues interfere. GSR. Rated M.

A/N: This picks up exactly where Trust ended.

CHAPTER ONE

Nick was waiting patiently when Sara hopped into the Denali.

"So, how was your vacation?"

"Fantastic," Sara answered, grinning to herself.

"Good for you. You look rested, and you have a tan," Nick commented, glancing at her as he drove. "Where did you go?"

"California," Sara answered, deliberately keeping her answers short.

"We missed you around here. It was weird without Grissom too."

"I know what you mean."

"What did you do on your week off?"

"Oh, you know. Took care of some family stuff," she said, trying not to sound too evasive. "Went to the beach, swam in the ocean...do you know how long it's been since I swam in the ocean?" Nick shook his head. "Too long. Walked around Venice Beach. That's where I got your shirt."

"I love the shirt. Do you know what 'Cowboy Up' means?"

"No," Sara said, glad that he was shifting the conversation.

"It means, when you get knocked down, get back up and tough it out. It comes from rodeo riders getting thrown. Get back on the horse, in other words."

"Interesting. Did you ever ride rodeo, Nicky?"

"Nah. I'm not into pain," he said, smiling. "I rode horses a lot when I was a kid, though. I miss that. Horses...well there's that connection, you know? You can feel their emotions and they read yours too. Did you ever go horseback riding, Sara?"

"Nope."

"That's too bad. Maybe we can go sometime. Rent a couple of nags and go on a trail ride. I'll teach you."

"I'd like that."

They continued chatting about horses and animals and Nick's childhood until they reached the scene.

Grissom sat down heavily at his desk and sighed. Brightening when a thought occurred to him, he looked through his Rolodex and found his realtor's number and left her a message to call him at home. Then he opened the top file on his desk and got to work.

Hours later, the team trickled back in. One by one they came in to see Grissom and bring him up to date. Sara and Nick detoured to the breakroom, got lemons, and took showers, as their floater was smelly and gross. Grissom did his usual rounds, checking in on all the labs. He went into the layout room to see Catherine, Warrick, and Greg, and look over their crime scene photos and evidence. They let Greg present the case to Grissom, and though he was nervous, he explained it well.

"Nice job, Greg." Greg beamed and thanked him. Warrick and Catherine looked pleased and proud–their protégée was coming along well. Grissom strolled out and they got back to work, Greg bouncing on his toes.

Grissom kept glancing at the clock. The shift seemed way too long and he missed Sara. He decided to assign the two of them to the next scene he could before he went out of his mind.

At last, Sara appeared and leaned in his doorway as was her habit at the end of the day. Grissom glanced up and gave her a warm smile, which she returned.

"Come in a minute and close the door." She did so happily and leaned on his desk.

"I missed you," he said huskily.

"Missed you too, babe."

"How was your case?"

"Okay. Looks like it might have been an accidental drowning. We'll see what Doc says though."

"How was Nick?"

Sara grinned. "Not too nosy. Told me I looked tanned and rested."

"You do."

"Thanks. I needed that vacation." Grissom smiled and nodded in agreement.

"Ready to go?" he asked.

"Um hum."

"Good. Can't wait to get out of here," Grissom said, making a face. Sara grinned at him. Grissom wanting to go home on time? Nice change. "Want to stop for dinner on the way?"

"Sure."

"Roberto's?"

"Sounds great. See you there."

"See you soon, Sara."

They met up at their favorite out-of-the-way Italian restaurant, a cheery little place with red-checked tablecloths, brightly colored posters of Italy on the walls, and a friendly owner. Sara liked using a bit of her remembered Italian with him, and he always complimented her on her accent and vocabulary, and corrected her grammar kindly.

"Italian grammar is complicated."

"True. But it's easier than English spelling."

"Madonn. E' vero. Thirty years I've lived here, and I still have trouble writing in English."

Grissom and Sara ordered their pasta and chatted easily about everything but work.

"Oh, Nick asked me to go horseback riding with him sometime," Sara said. "Have you ever been?"

"No, I haven't."

"You should come along then. You do have the knees for it," she said, smirking.

"Ha! Are you making fun of my bowed legs?" Sara giggled.

"Well, you, Ms. Sidle, better make sure you don't get a pony. Your feet would be dragging on the ground." They chuckled at the image.

"Hey, I called my realtor."

"And?" Sara asked brightly.

"Left her a message to call me at home. She doesn't work 24 hours a day, you know."

"Good point. Andiamo a casa."

"Which means?" Grissom asked.

"Let's go home."

Grissom reached for the check and pulled out his wallet. Sara smiled at him indulgently. She had long ago given up trying to pay her way when they went out to dinner. It was just something gentlemen did, in his mind, and it made her feel cherished.

A voice interrupted them.

"Grissom! Sara!"

TBC

TRUSTING THE TEAM

CHAPTER TWO

A/N: Whoops! I skipped this chapter in the last reposting! Arggh. Many thanks to Trish for kindly pointing out this glaring error. I was also able to include more of Hodges's and Grissom's conversation too. Loved 'The Bellows" story and should have included it to begin with!

Thanks for your patience.

RATS!

Sara and Grissom flinched and instantly looked guilty. "Rats!" Grissom muttered under his breath. They looked up and their faces cleared.

"Brass!" Sara jumped up and hugged him.

"Good to see you, kiddo. Grissom, nice to see you too." They shook hands.

"Um, no offense, Jim, but what are you doing here?" Grissom asked.

Brass chuckled. "Where else am I going to get great pasta at eight in the morning?"

"A casino buffet?" Sara teased.

Brass made a disgusted face. "Limp noodles in canned sauce in a warming pan? I don't think so. Besides, one of the best things about New Jersey was the Italian food."

"Ah, yes, New Jersey–Italian restaurants. Isn't that where the mobsters hang out? The Sopranos?" Sara teased him.

"I'll have you know Tony and Carmella are good friends of mine." They all laughed.

"Hey, sorry to run, but we were just leaving," Gil said.

"Yeah, you need a girlfriend, Brass," Sara told him.

Brass sighed dramatically. "I know, but my best girl is taken." Sara grinned at him.

There's that Sara smile, Brass thought. "You're a lucky devil, Gil."

"Don't I know it." Gil and Sara shared a warm smile. They gathered their things and said goodbye. Brass found a table for one and watched them walk out, kiss, get into separate cars, then drive away in the same direction.

The next night was a busy one. Grissom walked through the halls, handing out assignments as he went. Nick and Warrick appeared together.

"Fellas, another incident at Lolita's."

"What now?" Warrick asked, taking the slip of paper.

"An erotic athlete claiming a 420-Z. The paramedics have her on a stretcher."

As Gris walked on he heard Nick say, "What the hell's an erotic athlete?"

"Well, I hope it's a tight end in a G-string," Warrick answered.

"Nice," Nick responded, rubbing his hands in anticipation.

Grissom caught up with Greg in the hallway.

"Greg?"

"Yeah?"

"419 at Tagliferri's Restaurant on 8th Avenue."

"All right. Thanks! I'm on it." A solo 419? Cool.

"Cath?" Grissom said, seeing her approach.

"Huh?"

"415-B at the Ha-Ha-Ha," he told her, reading off the next slip of paper. She took it from him and looked at it.

"What's the weapon? A Taser? Come on!" Catherine said sarcastically.

"An angry clown got pissed at some heckler with clogged arteries, and it caused a heart attack."

"So, Greg-O gets a hit at a mob restaurant, and I get a clown who can't take a joke?"

"Trust me, you don't want Greg's 419."

Sara came up to them and exchanged a casual, "Hey," with Catherine, who turned and left.

"Hey." Grissom told Sara, "CDC needs someone out at the Omdi-Tech offices on Boulder Highway. I'm sure it's not hazardous, or they wouldn't let us collect it."

Sara took the paper and examined it curiously, as they walked together.

"Okay. You coming with?" she asked hopefully.

Grissom said with resignation, "No, I'm spending the night in autopsy with the Lake Mead floater."

"Well, enjoy," Sara said sympathetically. "That guy was putrid. Oh, by the way...you left those miniatures unlocked."

"Yeah, I've been looking at them a lot lately." They nodded to each other and went their separate directions.

Grissom and Doc Robbins stood looking at the bloated discolored body on the slab before them. Grissom was wrinkling his nose. This guy was putrid.

"No apparent puncture wounds, abrasions or lacerations. COD appears to be drowning," Robbins told him.

"We did pull him out of Lake Mead, you know," Grissom said sarcastically.

"Right. Based on decomp, I'd put TOD around 48 hours ago."

Just then, David Phillips pushed a headless corpse on a stretcher through the swinging doors.

"Where's his head, David?" Gris asked him.

"They haven't found it yet," Super Dave sighed.

"Day shift," Grissom scoffed. Robbins chuckled.

Grissom watched the coroner cut into the torso. As he reached the abdomen, the area under the skin moved. Grissom watched intently.

"Uh-oh. He's got gas. Phew," Gris said.

"Yeah, he's going to be a stinker," Al said calmly. "You want a mask?"

"No, I'm all right."

Doc Robbins continued the incision, but the skin kept moving strangely.

Robbins leaned back and said, baffled, "What the hell?"

As they watched, a rat suddenly burst out through the skin. It leapt away and landed on a table with a wet plop.

Robbins screamed, "RAT!"

Grissom grabbed a metal pan and tried to capture the rat, but he missed, instead smashing the glass and samples on the table. The rat scampered to the floor and ran. Robbins tried to stab at it with his crutch. He missed. The rat ran away from the two men.

"Get him! Get him!" Al yelled.

Grissom went in pursuit, but the rat escaped out the partially opened door.

"Oh." Grissom stopped and looked at Robbins, who said sarcastically, "Nice work."

Grissom glared back at him. "At least I tried to get him. Where were you?"

"I hate rats," Robbins said in deep disgust.

The sound of shattering glass and a scream came from the next room. Grissom sprinted in the direction of the noise, but the rodent was gone already.

Grissom kept searching without luck. Eventually Robbins and Dave joined him, dressed absurdly in protective gear.

"It's just a rat, fellas. Why are you wearing the HazMat gear?" Gris asked.

Phillips pointed to Robbins. "He made me do it."

"It's a wild animal covered with potentially biohazardous material with claws. Rabies, scabies, AIDS, hepatitis. I'm thinking of this suit as a giant rubber glove," Doc Robbins told them. Grissom shook his head. The normally unflappable Al, afraid of rats? Who knew?

In the distance, they heard scratching, squealing and thumping noises.

Robbins said dramatically, "Pestilence, alive and well." All the lights went off momentarily and then the backup generator kicked in.

"I think he's onto us, Doc," Grissom said ominously.

Grissom walked up to an electrical box with tendrils of smoke coming from it.

"Can you smell that?" he asked Robbins.

"Yes."

"You shouldn't be able to smell that through your suit."

"Good to know."

As Grissom dismantled the fuse box, he asked Robbins conversationally, "Did you know that rodents have skeletons with flexible joints?"

"No."

"If they can get their head through something," Grissom continued, "the rest of their body can contort to fit. They can crawl into spaces as small as a quarter."

"Lousy varmints," Robbins muttered darkly.

They found the rat dead and burned in the box, its teeth around a thick electrical cord.

"Bastard hit the main line," Doc said.

"That's not the only thing he's got in his mouth," Grissom said, pulling a blue pill out from the rat's mouth.

As Grissom continued to investigate the floater, who had blue pills of black tar heroin in his system, some of them appropriated by the hungry rat, Sara came back from her case. She strolled into the DNA lab and greeted Wendy.

"Hey."

"Hey," Wendy said.

Sara handed her an evidence bag, saying, "Here you go. I checked under the keys. Crusty white stains, pale blue under ALS."

"Semen, huh? What made you check under the keys?"

Sara gestured with her hands. "A butt print--on the credenza."

"Yeah, okay, that's gross."

"CDC contacted us, because the whole office has a herpes simplex 1 outbreak, and nobody could figure out why. I guess you never really know what's going on in your office," Sara told Wendy, turning to go.

Wendy spoke and Sara stopped abruptly.

"Hey, Sara? Is it true that the miniature cases have been keeping Grissom up at night?"

Sara felt like a bucket of ice water had been thrown in her face. "How would I know?" she asked a little too quickly, her face showing shock.

Wendy didn't seem to notice her expression or tone of voice. "I just thought that maybe you guys all talk about this it, and...Hodges told me that Grissom confided in him and...You know what? Never mind. Just forget I even asked."

Sara relaxed a little but her voice still wavered. "Well, listen...I-I don't know what Hodges has been telling you, but...do you really think that Grissom would confide in him? About anything?"

"No. Of course not."

Sara left the DNA lab, breathing out a huge sigh of relief. Phew. That was a close one. I should tell Gil.

Grissom returned to his office and was dumbfounded to find Hodges, in his chair, examining a miniature on his desk, and wearing his magnifying goggles.

"This better be good, Dave," Grissom said angrily, expecting him to leap up and apologize profusely. To his further amazement, Hodges just sat there, looked up at him, and said simply, "Bleach."

"What?"

Hodges took off the goggles and explained calmly, "I found a common element in all four miniatures...bleach. There's a bottle of it in the trash at Izzy's; there's a barrel of it at the chicken

plant, there's, uh, bleach in the flower water at Barbara's condo, and now..."

He handed Grissom a magnifying glass and forceps. Grissom examined the crumpled miniature bleach coupon gripped in the forceps.

Hodges continued, "...a bleach coupon in Penny's. If the killer is one of Ernie Dell's foster kids, maybe bleach played a role in some sort of childhood abuse. He's getting back at the world for what they did to him."

Grissom listened with his full attention.

Hodges continued. "This-this may sound crazy, but if the killer is a housekeeper or a

janitor, they would certainly know the ins and outs of each location, uh, what goes in what

drawer, what book on what bookshelf. Hours of operation, habits, schedules. I've thought a lot

about the killer's pathology, and there doesn't seem to be any regular interval between murders,

which makes me think that they're triggered by something. Maybe ... maybe the killer is

triggered by--bleach!"

Grissom thought intently, then mused, "The bellows."

"I'm sorry?"

"James Tilly Matthews. Early 19th century London. Matthews was in Bedlam Hospital, awaiting trial. Doctors were trying to determine his sanity. Several interviewed him. Half thought he was sane, half insane. Turns out he was perfectly normal ... except when someone mentioned politics. At that point, he'd go into a rage about the little men who lived underground and used a bellows to push thoughts into his mind, as well as the minds of Parliament and

the Queen. A specific object or word that triggers the urge to kill. That's a form of delusional psychosis. Rare, but it does exist."

"If the killer is one of Ernie Dell's foster kids, maybe bleach played a role in some sort of childhood abuse. He's getting back at the world for what they did to him," Hodges said excitedly.

"Well, if having bleach in your home is the common element among victims ... then anyone can be next."

"Did the victims use a common cleaning service?" Hodges asked.

"Not that we know of. However, it's not unusual for people with these pathologies to become vocal toward the institutions that they feel propagate the trigger."

"Maybe we could call bleach-manufacturing companies and see if they've received any hate mail," the lab rat suggested.

"Cross-reference correspondence...with Vegas postmarks. Might be able to narrow down neighborhoods."

Gris stopped, looking surprised and impressed. "Good job, Hodges."

Hodges blushed.

"Really," Grissom assured him. Hodges sighed happily.

"Now...do you mind?" Grissom said sternly, motioning with his head to say, get out of my office.

Hodges got up, saying, "Absolutely..." As he reached the door he turned.

"I ... I'm sorry if I crossed the line. It won't happen again." Hodges smiled, left, then pumped his fist as he strode proudly down the hallway. It's my lucky day.

Grissom sighed deeply and shook his head in wonder. The most annoying lab rat he'd ever known might just have broken the case. What a strange day. He smiled to himself, anticipating telling Sara all about it.

TBC

A/N: I think Lab Rats may be the funniest CSI episode ever. Rashomama and Ending Happy and You Kill Me are very funny as well, but this one takes the prize. Huge props to Sarah Goldfinger. Hope you enjoyed this retelling.

TRUSTING THE TEAM: Chapter Three

On the home front. Smut alert!

Sara was thrashing and yelling with fear in her sleep, which woke up Grissom. It took some time, but he was able to gently awaken her from her nightmare. She felt his warm strong arms around her and gradually calmed.

"Shh, honey. It's just a dream. You're safe. I'm here, you're safe," he murmured.

Sara finally opened her eyes. "God, Gil. Why can't I get these dreams to stop?"

"I don't know, dear. Hey, you haven't had any in a while."

"No. I haven't. Wonder why." She thought for a bit. "It doesn't help when I talk them out. It doesn't help when I just try to forget them. It didn't help when I told to my PEAP counselor about them."

"Did she have any advice?"

Sara grimaced. "Huh. Go to bed at a regular hour. Yeah, right. Limit your caffeine intake. Like that's going to happen. Warm milk. Yuck. Take sleeping pills. I can't do that–what if I get called in?"

Grissom scoffed, "Big help there."

"I know! See why I don't like counseling? They either repeat back what you just said, or spout some nonsense they read in a book. I hate baring my soul to a stranger, too."

"Me too. It's hard enough to bare my soul to my lover."

Sara snickered. "Hmm, we could bare something else then," she mumbled. Gil didn't hear her.

"It's early. Midmorning. Want to try to go back to sleep?" Grissom asked kindly.

"No, I can't sleep. It was pretty bad," Sara said, willing the disturbing images to fade.

"Want to talk about it?"

"Talking is overrated. Kissing my honey is underrated," Sara told him, smiling seductively. Gil's eyebrows went up. They started making out and taking off each other's clothes, kissing all over their warm skin. Grissom groaned.

"God yes, this is better than talking. You're so beautiful, Sara."

"Mmm," Sara silenced him with a deep languid kiss, stroking his naked body. Grissom tasted her tongue with his and sucked gently on her lips. Sara stroked his hair and down his shoulders and chest. Gil rolled them so they were lying on their sides and made his wet warm way down her neck, which made Sara shiver with pleasure and arch back. He caressed her breasts slowly and gently and stroked her nipples.

Sara licked and nibbled his ear and swirled her tongue in it. Grissom moaned and moved his hand down her slender body, across her back and sweet rounded ass, then between her legs. Sara parted her thighs willingly and he teased her folds open with his fingers as she panted short hot breaths under his chin and sucked his Adam's apple, then kissed and licked down to the hollow in his throat. She could feel his pleasured sounds vibrate against her mouth, which aroused her even more.

Their mouths joined together once more, the lovers caressed each other's genitals, slowly bringing each other to a peak of desire. Sara moved her leg over his hip and pulled him closer. Grissom's hard cock slid wetly through her labia as he rocked. Their long kiss broke as they whimpered and moaned and groaned each other's names.

Sara guided him inside her and he slid in snugly and the hot pleasure built between their thighs. Their movements synchronized instinctively. Gil began speeding up his thrusts.

The phone rang.

"Dammit!" Gil cried out.

"Ignore it," Sara urged hoarsely. The phone rang again.

"I...can't...you know this...God honey." Again the shrill sound echoed.

With an superhuman amount of self-control, Grissom awkwardly reached his arm behind him and grabbed the phone, knocking the base to the floor.

"Grissom!" he barked into it.

"Mr. Grissom! This is Sheila, from your realtor's office?" a woman's voice chirped.

"Yes?!" He swallowed a moan. Sara was grinding her pelvis against his.

Sheila continued cheerfully, "We'd like to meet with you and discuss your needs..." Gil bit his lip. Needs. Sara had his erection snugly held tight inside her with her pelvic muscles, as she gripped and squeezed his ass. "There are some fine houses on the market now. Would you...?"

Sara sucked and bit his nipple.

"Call you back," Grissom choked out desperately, tossing the phone over his shoulder and rolling Sara on to her back.

"You are evil, you know that?" Sara smirked at him. He thrust down into her and their pace increased with their heart rate. They got louder and their bodies slapped together.

On the other end of the phone, Sheila's eyes widened and her mouth formed a perfect "o."

"Fuck, Sara. You feel so goddamn good."

"Yes! Oh God Yes!"

Sheila licked her lips and pictured them getting it on.

Gil groaned, feeling their orgasms getting closer.

Sheila briefly considered hanging up but she was too into it. Damn this is hot.

Sara came hard, her walls stroking and squeezing Gil's big cock, her voice a near scream. Gil thrust hard and fast and fell, grunting, into the blissful depths.

Sara nuzzled into his neck.

"Oh God Sara I love you," he moaned.

"Gil you are...my love, my one and only." They snuggled in warm contentment.

Sara stirred. She looked across Gil's body.

"Oh shit."

"What?" Grissom asked.

"Look. The phone."

Grissom rolled over and saw the telephone lying off its cradle on the floor. They looked at each other and snickered. Gil got up and retrieved it and put it to his ear.

"Hello?" He heard a gasp and a click as someone hurriedly hung up. He decided to have a little fun with Sara, payback for her antics.

"Hello, Sheila?" He swallowed a laugh. "Yes, I'm here." He paused. Sara's eyes grew wide. "Yes, I just had amazing sex with my girlfriend, thanks." Sara's eyes narrowed and she scrambled toward him. No way. "Can't talk long. Looks like she's ready...she's insatiable..."

Sara leapt out of bed and grabbed the phone.

"Grissom! You are..." She heard the dial tone and smacked him.

"Payback's a bitch," Gil said, laughing helplessly.

Sara shoved him so hard he fell backwards on the bed, still laughing.

Sara made a show of putting the phone back on the night stand, giggling. She jumped on top of Grissom and straddled his waist.

"Do you think she was listening?"

Grissom grinned up at her. "Oh, I know she was."

"Really?"

"Yup. I heard her hang up when I said, 'Hello.'"

"She didn't. That's..."

"Hey, wouldn't you listen in on two people fucking? I would."

"I don't...I never...You're a guy, it's different."

"Yeah, whatever. Guess we need to find another realtor, though," Grissom said, grinning.

"Definitely." Sara tickled his ribs and he grabbed her feet and scratched along the bottom of them, making her squeal and squirm. Grissom rolled over and lifted her off the bed and carried her out of the bedroom.

"Gris! Where are you...?"

"To the shower. Wanna make you scream some more." Sara giggled.

When the water ran cold and Sara's back was sore from being pounded into the shower wall, they emerged, soaking wet and temporarily sated.

Grissom whistled tunelessly as he dressed. Sara smiled at him.

He flipped through the Yellow Pages and chose a name, vaguely recognizing it as a big company. Grissom dialed the realtor and explained what they were looking for, and made an appointment within the hour. They ate hurriedly and went to the office.

The pudgy salesman made some small talk but Grissom interrupted and got right to the point. He explained exactly what they were looking for. Sara expressed her wishes clearly too. Mr. Barnes moved his laptop over so they could both see it and stepped out to make some phone calls.

The couple scrolled through the choices, instantly discarding the ones that were too small, too grand, or houses described as 'fixer-uppers'. They agreed in near silence on some promising ones and Sara efficiently jotted down notes.

John Barnes came back in. "Okay! Things look good for later in the week..."

Grissom said firmly, "We'd like to do this as soon as possible. Are there any open houses today?"

"My, my. What's the rush? You two expecting a baby?"

Sara and Grissom glared at him. Barnes cleared his throat and looked uneasy.

Sara took pity on him. "We're criminalists, Mr. Barnes. Time is essential to us. Wasted time means unsolved crimes. Unsolved crimes means unpunished murderers. Do you understand?"

"Uh..." Murderers?

Grissom gazed at Sara with admiration in his eyes. "You're right, Sara. I never thought of it that way...but you're right. Waiting in line, being stuck in traffic, being put on hold, are all aggravating. The only benefit to me is the chance to think."

Grissom looked back at the realtor. "I was thinking more along the lines of–we could get called in at any moment. We could get a case that ties us up for days–weeks even." Sara nodded in agreement.

"Okay then!" Barnes said. "Where should we start? Do you have any homes in mind?" Sara gave him her notebook.

He looked it over and nodded. "Let's go!"

Mr. Barnes drove to the first house, chattering nonstop. Sara stepped inside and turned around. Grissom took an appraising look and then raised an eyebrow to her. She shook her head.

"Next."

Barnes started to describe the home's features but Grissom silenced him with a cold stare. These people are weird.

He drove them to the next house, still talking nervously. Sara walked slowly up the walkway, scanning the exterior intently. Grissom did the same.

Sara turned around and grinned at him.

"What is it?"

"Should I take the perimeter?" Sara said, giggling. Grissom snorted. Barnes rolled his eyes. Not just weird, they're nuts. He let them go inside and mopped the sweat from his brow.

"How's it feel to you, Gil?"

"Not bad. But..."

"Ceiling's too low."

"Yeah." They walked out briskly and got in Barnes' car without a word. Barnes got back in and punched in an address on his GPS unit. Grissom's cell phone rang.

"Grissom. Where? Catherine there yet? OK. OK. Be there in...an hour or so. No. We're house...," he sputtered. Oops. "Uh, I'm not at home. I'll call Sara." He hung up.

"Drive." Grissom looked at Sara. "DB in Summerlin. Cath's on her way. Warrick isn't answering...I said drive!"

"Uh...where to?" Barnes stuttered.

"Your office. Time's a wasting."

TBC

TRUSTING THE TEAM

CHAPTER FOUR

Happiness in Funny Places.

With Grissom's intense glare propelling him, Mr. Barnes made a speedy return to the office parking lot, babbling away. Sara called Nick at the scene and got more details in the meantime.

Getting back in their car, Grissom heaved a sigh of aggravation.

"God I thought that guy would never shut up."

Sara snickered. "We seem to be going through realtors in record time today."

Grissom chuckled. "Yeah. Enough of the middlemen. I'll call his office and have him put the townhouse up for sale. That's it."

"Agreed," Sara said heartily. "We can find our own house without all that...Barnes babble. And phone sex!"

He snickered. "What a team we are." Sara flashed her big Sidle grin at him.

Catherine was delayed on another case and had left a message for Warrick to meet her there. With Nick, Sara, and Grissom, they had more than enough talent to process the Summerlin case, and they did so with their well-honed efficiency.

Grissom took Nick aside when the body was being driven away and the cops were loitering out of earshot.

"Nick. Got a minute?"

"Sure, Gris. What's up?"

"I...well, we, Sara and I, have some news," Grissom told him, looking uncharacteristically flustered. Nick was puzzled but gave him his full attention.

"We're getting a house together."

Nick whooped and Grissom shushed him.

"Jeez. Will you pipe down?"

"Sorry. I'm happy for you guys, that's all."

Sara heard the commotion and approached. They exchanged a happy grin and Nick winked at her.

"So, we haven't found a place yet or even put my townhouse up for sale, but..."

"We move fast," Sara filled in.

"Literally," Grissom said, and they chuckled together.

"So, I need a couple of favors."

"Anything." Nick assured him.

"First, I'm going to give you our new contact information. I'll give it to Brass too, but no one else. Only in case of emergency, understand?"

"Got it. Hush hush."

"Second, both Sara and I are going to need help packing, taking stuff to Goodwill and the dump, sprucing up, all that jazz..."

"Sure. And as the able-bodied Mr. Dependable, who just happens to have a pickup truck..."

"You are our first choice, Muscles," Sara said sweetly, batting her eyes at him and getting another trademark Stokes grin.

"Say the word, boss. I'll be glad to."

Grissom smiled too. "Naturally, refreshments will be provided."

"Naturally. Brewskis and pizza and I'm at your service," Nick concluded, liking to be a part of Grissom and Sara's inner circle. Lifting boxes? No biggie. I'll just skip a week at the gym.

"When's your next night off?" Grissom asked.

"Day after tomorrow."

"Excellent. Come by my townhouse a few hours before shift tomorrow?"

"I'll be there with bells on."

"Right! Thanks, Nick. Shall we return to the lab?"

"We shall."

They had only just started with the Summerlin DB and distributed the evidence when a 419 call came in, from the Sugar Cane Ranch way out in Brime County.

Sara and Grissom left immediately and Nick got to work on their case, saying he'd drive out in a couple of hours.

Grissom greeted the local sheriff, then asked him, "Where's your coroner?"

"Oh, couldn't get him on the horn," Sheriff Ned Bastille responded. "Probably out in some barn, up to his elbows in a cow's vagina..."

Sara was startled. "Excuse me?" The sheriff bashfully explained the coroner was also a veterinarian.

The case only got weirder and weirder from then on. The personal highlight, for Sara, was a short conversation with Gil, in which he answered a lingering question of hers; no, he had never paid for sex and found the whole idea bleak and sad. And yes, Sara made him happy, because they had the magic combination of sex with love. It kept her smiling to herself for hours.

All of them, Nick, Sara, Greg, Brass, Warrick, Catherine–and of course Grissom–eagerly met up at their favorite hangout after it was wrapped and swapped all the new stories. They got rowdier and more hilarious with each round of beer.

"So this old guy says, 'Somebody shot my wife!'"

"The sheriff is telling us about what a mom-and-pop place this is and a hooker taps him on the shoulder and gives him back his gunbelt..."

"No wait, you'll never believe the weapons I found in the hookers' bedrooms..."

"Hoo! Hodges...he was telling me about picking up a whore when he was 17 and it turned out she was an undercover cop..."

"'Nice hat honey'. You should have seen Sara's face..."

"And he whips out a photo of his late wife with an arrow stuck right between the eyes..."

"I asked Binky–when was the last time you saw the deceased? And he says, get this, 'About an hour ago, when they took him away on that cart...'"

"Shot with a crossbow, anaphylaxis from a blowjob, injected with rattlesnake venom...oh and did I forget conked on the head with a crowbar? COD? The lawn chair did it!"

"Ask Grissom why they keep the swimming pools at bathwater temperature in whorehouses..."

"Man, did I enjoy taking DNA today. Did I thank you for letting me out in the field lately, Grissom?"

"Joe Frazier, Mike Tyson, Joe Louis, Ali..."

"Doris says, 'I'll let you in on the 'cop special.'"

"World's ugliest johnson. I swear to God. I thought Warrick was going to pass out..."

"Encourages the girls to swim topless..."

"Handcuffs, mace, Tasers, brass knuckles..."

"Dreama Little. I kid you not. That was her real name. I asked her and she started singing to me..."

"Huh! I had that old guy who looked just like James Whitmore quoting Longfellow at me..."

"Yeah! Did you see Milton's furry eyebrows? He looked like he had a pair of caterpillars on his face..."

"And I said, 'Do I look like Paula Abdul to you'?"

They went on, yelling over each other and not caring if they were heard or not–these were stories that they would be happily telling and retelling and listening to for years to come, with great and undimmed pleasure.

Wiping the tears from their eyes and shouting drunken goodbyes, the happy team cabbed to their respective homes and collapsed. For one night all the grim sad gruesome stories were banished and they slept the sleep of the blessed. Only to awake with hangovers from hell, but it was worth it, after all.

A/N: Of course this is the episode Ending Happy. You all knew that. Watch it again–or better yet–read the transcript online...written by Evan Dunsky. What a hoot. By the way, Nick discovered the GSR secret in the previous story, HEAT. That's why he suddenly knows all about it now. Thanks for your patience with my finishing that one before I finally got back to this. I couldn't ask for a better bunch of reviewers. (*hint hint*)

TBC

TRUSTING THE TEAM

CHAPTER FIVE

Teamwork.

Nick, a little worse for wear and tear, came over to Grissom's place as agreed the next evening. Sara took pity and plied him with cold non-alcoholic drinks and Alka-Seltzer until he returned to his usual cheery self. They all ordered pizza but agreed that sodas were better for the work that night.

Grissom and Nick each took a cluttered closet and Sara shuffled between, asking whether Grissom wanted to keep this or that, and piling up the trash and recyclables by the door. Nick came across Gil's softball gear bag and took it to him.

"Hey. You're a great ballplayer, Gris. Coach too. Why don't we have those games anymore?"

"Good question, Nick. Thanks. You're a good player too. We really should start that up again."

"And kick Ecklie's ass?" Sara asked. They all chuckled.

"Yeah, teamwork is great and all, but the look on Ecklie's face is better–like when I hit another home run! Wipes that weaselly look right off his face," Nick said, smirking. They all chuckled.

"It's on. I'll post a signup sheet for practice in the breakroom tonight," Grissom said cheerfully, immediately drafting one on his computer. "You get your pick of positions, Nick."

"First base."

"Good choice. Sara?"

"Um, shortstop," she chose.

"Excellent. We need your long legs for running, so you can be a pinch runner too. And steal some more bases, okay?" Sara was grinning at him. "Third base for me and coach again."

"Warrick?" Nick asked.

"He'll probably choose pitcher, but he could definitely play left field again. Great hands and helluva arm. Nice fastball. Archie can relieve him as pitcher and play outfield. Good curve ball." They nodded.

"Catherine is a pretty good catcher," Sara reminded him, all of them getting in the spirit of Grissom's 'beautiful game.'"

"She is. Not exactly a power hitter, but otherwise okay. And she loves having Lindsay help out with the equipment and be the bat boy...I mean girl," Grissom said, smiling.

"Greg? Second base?" Sara asked.

"Definitely. Good fielder," Grissom said, jotting these down. "Who else?"

"Bobby? Center field?" Nick suggested.

"Yes."

"Hodges?" Sara said playfully. They all groaned.

"Hodges can be manager," Grissom said firmly. "No way in hell he's going near a ball or a bat or a glove. Couldn't even toss a handgun on a roof, for crying out loud. Keep score, handle the logistics, that'll keep him happy. We'll probably need new uniforms?"

"Yeah," Sara agreed. "You've lost weight, Gris." He blushed and looked pleased. "And you've bulked up, Nick." He looked flattered and preened a little, flexing his biceps and making Sara giggle.

"Right field?" Gil asked.

"Henry?" suggested Nick.

"Good. Mandy, Wendy, David, everybody else, we'll get them in the lineup too. This will be fun."

"It sure will, Gris." Nick agreed while Sara looked at him affectionately.

"So. Batting practice this week, fielding practice next week...we're all a little rusty," Grissom concluded. They got back to work, musing on the games to come and reminiscing with each other about their most brilliant plays in the past.

The time passed easily. Nick boxed books and Sara went through the kitchen stuff. Noticing a pause in activity from Grissom's office, she checked on him. He was sitting in his chair, reading glasses down his nose, looking through the photo album which had so impacted their relationship. He's so cute like this.

"Hey," she greeted him.

He looked up and smiled at her sweetly. They shared a kiss and a cuddle.

"Ah, the photo album," Sara said, sitting in his lap and leafing through it.

Nick glanced in on his way to the bathroom and grinned to himself. They are such a great couple. Made for each other. Hope I find my Sara someday.

Nick took a load to the recycling center and stopped at his place on the way to work. Sara and Grissom got randy as soon as he left and when he suggested a shared shower she had no objection.

They washed each other's hair at the same time, teasingly washing the other hairy parts too. The hot water beat on their backs as things got hotter. Gil lifted her leg and guided himself in slickly and they were off and pumping like a piston. When they had climaxed easily and shared another long sweet kiss, they washed each other off again. Grissom groaned when he remembered they had to leave for work.

"I could make love to you for days, Sara," he said, toweling her off.

"No doubt. You have amazing stamina, hot stuff."

He smirked. "Think we can make up for lost time?"

"What lost time?" Sara asked dreamily as she toweled off his chest and muscular arms. "Every day with you has been a gift."

"Oh, Sara. You're so good to me, love. You've been my greatest gift too," Gil said emotionally. If the alarm clock hadn't gone off then they might have stayed there kissing all through their shift.

But duty called and they answered as always. Grissom announced the softball team news at assignments and everyone brightened and chattered about it. He posted the practice schedule and signup sheet and they all added their names before going to their various scenes.

Catherine worked companionably with Grissom on a pile of evidence. She gave him an appraising look.

"You're pretty chipper these days, Gil."

"Yeah. Guess I am. Life is good."

"Glad to hear it," Catherine said. "Nice to get a break from Grumpy Grissom."

"Am I really that bad?"

"Ah, sometimes. I'm no Pollyanna myself." He chuckled.

"We're like a comfortable old married couple," Grissom said easily, getting a narrow-eyed look from Catherine.

"Wow, you really are happy. That's the nicest thing you've said to me in weeks," Cath said with surprise. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were getting..."

"How's your love life, Catherine?" Grissom interrupted.

She didn't seem to mind. It was one of her favorite topics. "Huh. What love life. Why do I pick so many losers?"

Grissom shook his head and listened indulgently as she regaled him with her latest.

TBC