Category : Romance (and a tiny spot of angst. Well, very tiny, but I needed to write the word "angst" LOL)
Pairing : GSR
: Teen, for a very very very very slight mention of smut :p
: 'CSI' and all its characters belong to Anthony Zuiker, CBS and Alliance Atlantis. No copyright infringement is intended.
Spoilers : Some mentions of "Living Doll", 7x24

A/N: It's the birthday of the wonderful Mingsmommy today :)) As I love her very, very much, I told her I would write a fic for her, and she wanted fluff and geek baby. And she told me, among other things, that I should share it with you. So here it is. It's about geek baby, and this is definitely fluffy '

A huge thank you goes to PhDelicious for having so kindly betaed this story :) And another huuuge thank you goes to Lisa, for being so awesomely amazing.

Enjoy, I love you all!


You weren't desired. Until the day you were.

Before that day came, fifty-one years had passed by for him, thirty-six for her. Before that day, you were just a point to discuss, lost in among other points, stuck between the bedside choice, and the laundry organisation.

She didn't want children, neither did he. You hadn't been the start of a long and exhausting debate, unlike the laundry.

Sara brought the subject up one day, during their usual breakfast, as the night was falling on the city.

She was quietly eating her cereal, eyes lost in the distance, her mind drifting away. At the other end of the table, Grissom was drinking his coffee, absorbed in the newspaper. And as usual, Bruno was sitting on the floor next to him, using his quiet strength to convince his master to give him something.

"Do you want kids, Griss?" she suddenly asked, and both man and dog turned their heads. Her tone had been so casual that she could have been asking for the jam jar as well.

Grissom wasn't quite as calm. He swallowed his coffee loudly, before he started to stammer, looking truly panicked:


Sara shot him an amused smile, chewing a new spoonful of cereal.

"Don't forget to breathe, Gil, you're turning white." She chuckled, before her eyes dropped back to the science magazine opened in front of her. "I was just checking…"

And that was it.


Stuck under a car, several months later, not able to move, and hardly able to breathe, all she could do was think. Then, convinced that it was the end of the line for her, she started to regret.

She wished she had done all the things she had promised herself she would do –change her wardrobe, start yoga, go to visit France…- or the things she had never wanted to try – chocolate grasshoppers, horse riding, sky diving…

The more she thought, the more she regretted. The more she regretted, the more she thought of him. And blending him with regret, she started to think of you. You, who had never really existed in her mind. You, who had always been nothing more than a fleeting thought, a blurry image, a concept she had learnt a long time ago, and that she had completely rejected even before that time.

And that day, as the air was becoming cooler and the rain was falling harder, she knew she was more likely to die under this wrecked car than between the warmth of his arms. And she regretted you.

She wasn't seeing the idea anymore, but the flesh and the blood. You were still faceless, of course, not even having an identity. But in her mind, you were finally living. She thought that if you'd been there, a small part of her would have stayed on earth, and he wouldn't have been all alone. She thought that there would have been at least one living proof of their love. And when the life would seem too hard for him to live without her, he would have had you to cling to.

But when she started to slip into the dark numbness, she was the one clinging. She clung to him.

And therefore, she clung to you.


It's not until later that day that you appeared in his mind, as he was waiting, and waiting, for someone to come and tell him how she was doing.

One of the guys –or maybe it was Catherine- had told him to go take a walk, he needed it. He should drink something. Have a bite to eat.

Like a zombie, he did so. He stepped into the elevator, pushed a button aimlessly, before he started roaming through the hospital's corridors.

Instead of finding the cafeteria, he found the nursery.

Without really knowing how or why, he walked towards the window and putting a hand on it, he watched the brand-new little lives. Except for some stirring and whining in their sleep, they all looked so peaceful.

You appeared to him at this very moment.

Suddenly, you weren't a forbidden thought anymore, an inconceivable thing.

You were the path he had never chosen. The possibility he had never taken.

The infant just in front of him slightly opened his eyes. It was way too dark for him to guess their colour. But just for a second, he wondered if you'd have her brown eyes, and if they'd shine the way hers did when she smiled. The way they used to.

And then, resting his forehead against the cold glass, he closed his eyes. And for the first time since he'd found her miniature in his office, he started to cry. He did it quietly, so he didn't disturb the innocent silence surrounding him.

But, as if his pain was oozing through the wall of glass, the baby before him started to moan.


But she didn't die during that terrible night. Therefore, he didn't die either.

You, on the other hand, you could have vanished from their thoughts. You simply could have been a fleeting hope, born in a time of crisis, in order to give them something to cling to, something giving them the illusion that a future was still possible.

Like the sea at the end of the tide, you could have stepped back, moved away, become nothing but a blurry line on the horizon.

But you didn't.

And you hadn't been discussed, for that matter. You were now living in both of them, but they never seriously talked to each other, before coming to the conclusion that it was time for them to procreate. No, they had bigger things to deal with for now.

She had survived, and doing so, fears and pain had survived with her. First things first, they needed to heal. And they were healing. But it was a slow process.

They realised that they both desired you when this need mixed with a different wave of desires, the first time they made love again.

It was different, and completely overwhelming.

It was as if every move counted, as if each gesture was a precious gift. Sweat and tears blended, as their skin brushed and touched, muddling up. Offering kisses and caresses blissfully, receiving eagerly and thankfully.

They had been so close to losing everything, so close to losing each other. So close.

But it hadn't happened. They could love each other again and again. Feel the other, so close. So close.

And yet, as things were burning up, their bodies about to become one, Sara stopped him.

"I'm not on the pill anymore."

She had stopped during her stay at the hospital, and hadn't seen why she should start again as soon as she was released, knowing that her wounds didn't allow her any immediate physical contact. Not that she couldn't or wouldn't want to, but Grissom had become utterly careful, as if he feared to see her break into pieces with every move she made. And her unconscious dreams had surely played a part in that decision, too.

He looked right into her eyes when he murmured: "I don't care anymore. Do you?"

"No." was her only answer.

As if sealing their mutual agreement, he slid into her then. Carrying them away, towards a swirl of delight. A world they never wanted to lose again.

Never again.

You weren't conceived that night, though. Neither of them would be able to say when exactly you started to grow inside of her. But it didn't matter anymore.

Because you were wanted.

Every time their bodies united, they were more than willing for their merging souls to give up a part of themselves, so it could fill your little cellular being.

You finally accepted their gift.


Even though you were truly desired they were scared.

Truth be told, there was an equal among of joy and terror in their eyes when the pregnancy test displayed two lines. And their fear lasted all the pregnancy long. But what kind of parents weren't afraid by the coming of their child? They both knew that as soon as you arrived, everything would change forever. But, despite the uncertainties, they were waiting for you.

Since she'd escaped from a certain death, their life seemed to be put in slow motion. As if the world was moving faster than ever around them, while they kept slowing down. Though they were closer to each other than ever, something had broken in the scheme that had been their life until then. And you, growing in her, you seemed to be their solution; they felt it deep in their cores.

Yes, there were times of doubts and angst, but above all, there were moments of joy and excitement. Instants of tenderness you were already giving to them.

She needed to pee. Again.

But there was nooo way she was getting out of this bed now. She'd finally found a relatively comfortable position, three pillows dispersed around her big body, in a small attempt to avoid pressure and painful stretching. And yet, she knew this feeling of comfort wouldn't last long. The pressure on her bladder had already erased any hope she'd had about falling asleep again soon. She rarely slept when she wanted to; but during the day, if she suddenly started to drowse, all she had to do was to lie down, and she was off for at least three hours.

She was glad to have been an insomniac in the past, or she would have easily become insane.

And yet, this was far away from anything she'd known before. When she'd lived alone, during those sleepless days, she could roam through her apartment, clean around, watch the TV, drink some miraculous beverages, or read books. Later, insomnia had mostly faded away, next to her a man, who was more than willing to help her find some sleep when she needed it. And if he was too busy snoring, she could always go running with the dog, trying to exhaust herself.

Now, she spent so much time trying to feel comfortable in her own bed that she wasn't brave enough to drag herself from there to the living room, with its couch and TV.

As if he could read her mind, Bruno let out a heavy sigh in his doggy sleep. She opened her eyes, and starred at the curled up form on the ground, next to her. Poor thing. She was so huge now that he didn't even have his place on the bed. And it had been a long time since he'd tried to steal her place while she was using the bathroom. Speaking of bathrooms…If only her girl could just stop using her bladder as a soccer ball…

Reluctantly, Sara started to move, stretching her leg. Doing so, she hit Grissom's foot, behind her.

He didn't wake up, but he stirred. Rolling onto his side, he snuggled against her back, unconsciously slipping an arm around her waist, so he could rest his hand on her rounded stomach.

Great. It would be much easier for her to escape the bed now, really. She wasn't rejecting that kind of closeness –on the contrary- but she really needed to release her bladder.

As if the girl had heard her mother's pleading thoughts, she moved around, leaving this organ alone, before any kind of movement stopped for a few blessed seconds. And then, she kicked right against Grissom palm. He started, and mumbled in her hair:

"She's kicking you…"

"Oh, really?" Sara hissed through her teeth.

He moved his hand slightly, lowering it on the bump. He sighed heavily then, ready to go back to sleep. But quickly, a new kick reached his hand, and she felt him tensed behind her.

"She feels my hand!" His tone was amazed and full of contentment, as if it was a new thing.

Immediately sitting up, he switched on his bedside lamp, before he pulled off the sheet so he could have a full view of her stomach.

"Gil…" she sighed, as his hand slid over her belly again "I was sleeping…" It was a lie, of course. And honestly, she had a hard time finding his enthusiasm exasperating in any way.

Resigning herself, she removed the pillow she'd stuck behind her lower back, and rolled onto her back, so he could admire her body. She didn't want to break his enjoyment by telling him that the baby had surely hit him accidentally. But soon, as if her child already wanted to contradict her, she kicked his hand. Always willing to perform new experiments using her biological situation, he started to move his hand around her belly, his stupid grin growing wider with every new kick she gave him –and Sara, too, though he seemed to have forgotten that point.

"Well, I can leave the room, if I'm bothering you guys," she teased, leaning against two pillows, as she was tenderly watched watching the scene. Honestly, if the baby had decided it was the right time for a kicking session, she couldn't do anything against it. And she'd rather share it with him than experience it alone. She was faking a pout, but truth be told, she was in love with what she was witnessing.

He finally laid his cheek on her tensed skin, connecting his sparkling eyes with hers, before he whispered, "I think she loves me already."

Her hormones betrayed her again. She knew she was unable to speak without turning into a sobbing mess. So instead, she offered him her most sincere, quivering smile, and managed to breathe, "Yeah, she does…"

As if she wanted to confirm their thoughts, a kick hit his cheek.



You came into the world on a Thursday.

Just like their relationship, it was long to start, with some particularly painful moments on the way. But once they crossed stage, what was waiting for them was an incredible joy.


When you first scream painfully filled up your lungs, he emptied his. And with the next breath, he filled them again, with air which seemed new and purified.


When he cut the cord, his hand was shaking slightly, but he did it surely. Doing so, he cut the vital bond which had connected her to you for nine months. But he also sealed a strong and indestructible bond between you and him.

You were his little girl, Lisa Emily Grissom.

Their daughter.


One by one, she counted again each of your tiny fingers. They were so thin, so small, and yet so perfect. Ending with ten even tinier nails.

She couldn't believe how perfect you were.

She fought her need to start using her finger again to follow every shape of your face. The rounded off tip of your nose, the nearly visible line of your eyebrows, your small forehead, your rosy lips…And yet, she finally gave up, her finger barely brushing the soft and so smooth skin of your cheek.

When you opened your eyes, she wondered how it was possible to love someone so deeply after only a few hours.

But she knew it wasn't 'only a few hours'. You'd been inside of her for nine months, and you'd never let her forget that you were there. Holding you in her arms seemed almost surreal to her right now, and she was feeling strangely melancholic. She felt the hole you had left in her. But the disproportionate love she was feeling for you was mostly filling it. And she knew this bond would always be there.

You were so light in her arms, and yet, it seemed like she felt the sightless gram of your body against her chest. She felt the weight of the life she had created with him.

And she felt so good, really good, for the first time in months.

Finally dragging her eyes away from you, she looked up at him, and met his eyes. The emotion and the peace displayed on his face proved to her that he had understood as well.

What had been broken was now mended.

You were the solution they'd waited so long for. The missing piece finally completing their life.

The day you came into their world, Lisa, they started to live again.