Connections

Title: Connections

Author: Summer Reign

Rating: T

Disclaimer: CSI belongs to the world! But I still don't get residuals.

Spoilers: Well, everything and then some. Butterflied, Suckers and One to Go—to name a few.

Summary:

"A hidden connection is stronger than an obvious one" Heraclitus of Ephesus (a pompous way of saying I have no idea how to summarize this)

Author's Note: I've been "blocked" for a very long time. And then I got this rather strange idea for a series. I don't want to call it a work in progress because each story will stand on its own. However, I do want to follow a certain structure and theme, so…whatever. I hope you like it.

Connections I: Catherine

January, 2004

He stepped out of the lab and into the bright Vegas morning.

Too bright. Too hot. Too…everything.

He was a creature of the night. He was…a creature. Period.

No. Not a creature. Creatures, after all, were made of flesh and blood. He was more like a machine. A crime investigating machine.

One who couldn't even find enough evidence to put away a man who slashed his lover's throat and cut up a man up, ziplocking his remains in over 20 plastic packages.

There should have been…something.

There wasn't enough.

Grissom raised his hand to his eyes and tried to rub away his mood.

Fifteen minutes and he'd be home. In twenty minutes, he'd step out of the shower and go off to bed.

And he'd sleep, hopefully, for fifteen hours, and wake up feeling like a man again. A dedicated scientist. That's what he was, really. Not a creature. Not a machine.

A scientist.

VERY dedicated.

He moved his hand away from his eyes to his jacket pocket, hoping he remembered his sunglasses.

And that's when he saw her.

She was standing by her car. Leaning against it, actually.

And, as had happened many times before, she instantly turned her face and looked at him.

She didn't register surprise. Her face didn't change expression at all. Much as it hadn't when he searched it three shifts before. Searched it for life, for energy, for everything that woman inside the house would never show signs of again.

But Sara's eyes…this time…they seemed…

Knowing, hurt, resigned.

And he was very, very tired.

And his imagination was running overtime.

She couldn't possibly have a clue of all he had been through in the past two days. All he had felt.

All he knew, all he really knew, was he couldn't look at her right now. Not right now. Not without weeping, or screaming or…losing control in some way that was dark and intense and scarier than anything he could define.

He put his sunglasses on, got into his car and left her without a backward glance.

____________________________________________________________________

Thirty hours later, he was back at the lab.

Back to being a dedicated scientist. A dedicated supervisor.

Missing one of his team. Probably the most important member.

"Catherine, have you seen Sara?" He asked as he entered the breakroom.

"Yes, she's just putting away her things. Just got here a minute ago."

Grissom double-checked his watch. Sara was always early. He frowned.

"Your Timex didn't poop out on you. She got stuck behind a three-car pileup. Besides, she almost pulled a double last night. I caught her midway through her second shift and made sure someone sent her home."

"Yesterday was supposed to be her day off, too," Grissom said.

"Yeah, well. In a way, I can understand it. She was kind of a freaked out over the Debbie Marlin thing."

"She…didn't work much of it beyond the lab." He had made sure of that.

"Well, someone needed to get the woman's toe prints. And, that someone was Sara. She said she didn't notice her but, believe me, she noticed, all right. Must have been freak-ee. Anyway, work is part of who Sara is, so I guess it was good therapy for her to nearly pull a double yesterday. Get that vision out of her head and replace it with other grisly stuff."

Grissom nodded.

In all honesty, he was relieved. Something external caused that look he saw in the parking lot the other day. The fact that that 'something' might very well be traumatic…well, he supposed that made his relief a bit selfish. But, he could take care of that. He needed to take care of that. For her sake…and for his.

Ten minutes later, he was handing out assignments.

"DB in a pool. Sara…you're with me…."

________________________________________________________________________

March, 2009

Catherine Willows walked down the hall of the crime lab, feeling the heat of appreciative male eyes warming her bodacious booty.

Not bad for a woman completing a 10-hour shift.

One more task for the day and she could go home. Home to her complaining mother and whining daughter. Still, they were family and she loved them. Damn it.

With a little wiggle in her walk (a gift to a lurking Bobby Dawson, if truth be told) she entered her office. Not that she'd ever fish off the company pier. Stuff like that just didn't work as she had told…

Oh.

Perhaps that had been a mistake.

Maybe. The jury was still out. For all she knew Grissom and/or Sara could have finished each other off in the mountains of Mongolia or wherever the hell they were now and they'd never be heard from again. Both of them could easily pull off an evidence-free crime and they were smart enough to "lose" themselves afterwards, too.

Maybe that's what they already did. After all, she hadn't heard from either of them….

She clicked on the crime lab's email server.

Brass…ignore. It was probably some dirty joke he forwarded. Ecklie…stupid administrative meeting. Ignore till later tonight. Mandy—animal pictures, for sure….

"Holy crap!" the volume of her own voice nearly knocked her off her chair.

A Yahoo address. 'grissomandgrissom.' Well, gee. What was the point of reading the freaking email? They gave it all away in the address. Of course, maybe it wasn't Sara that was the other Grissom. After all, they hadn't hauled in Lady Heather's black-laced-butt in nearly half a year.

She double-clicked.

"Dear Catherine,

I must apologize for not being in contact with you for these past few months. You were very helpful and supportive of me when I made the decision to leave and I didn't mean to seem ungrateful.

I just haven't quite known where to start. When I left the lab, I wasn't entirely sure what life would hold for me. I did know what I wanted it to hold. Well, I knew whom I wanted to hold. Although, I suppose that's a little too much information, but…if anyone would understand the complicated workings of the human heart, I know it would be you.

Sara and I resumed our relationship the moment we saw each other again. She's a remarkable woman and I am a very grateful man. Not only for her unconditional acceptance, but for agreeing to be my life partner. We married shortly after our reunion. And, yes, we're just getting around to announcing it to the world. Actually, we're not announcing it to the world. We're telling you and hoping you'll spread the word.

It's a bit awkward, socially, to not have a wedding or a reception to share with others. But, this route was explored and rejected. It's just not "us."

Please tell everyone at the lab that might be interested and let them know we are healthy and happy. And we hope everyone is well. Someday, we will come to visit. For now, we are making arrangements to move to California. There is some research being done on sea life in the Pacific that fascinates us both. And we feel we can make a significant contribution. They aren't bugs, but…they are still interesting.

I won't ask how you are doing at this time (although I'd welcome hearing about it). I have every confidence you are doing a wonderful job.

Take care of yourself, Catherine.

Best Regards,

Grissom…and…Grissom

Shit.

She hit reply.

To: GrissomandGrissom

From: CWillowsLVCL

"Best regards," my ass! You dog! I mean, shit.

OK. I'm not making sense. First of all, congratulations. Second, WTF, Gil? (ask Sara what that means if you're not up to speed on internet lingo). We're family! And you tell me you got hitched months ago. I'm so angry with you, I could spit.

OK-now that I wrote that sentence, I feel instantly better.

You're a jerk, but you can't help yourself.

You better thank your lucky stars that you got someone as lovestruck as Ms. (excuse me, MRS) Sara. Any other woman would have kicked you to the curb years ago.

I'll tell everyone. Not the first time I did your dirty work for you.

And, you know, if you two decide to have kids, please try to tell us before we're invited to their college graduations, 'k?

I wish you both happiness.

And I love you both, even though I hate you at the moment. (That goes for Sara, too. She doesn't know how to email?)

Don't get bitten by any rabid mosquitoes out there. And hurry back home so I can kick you both in the behind myself. Right before smooshing the hell out you.

Love,

~Cath

P.S. You bet your ass I'm doing a bang-up job as supervisor. I thought you'd never leave…

She hit send.

Well, okay.

Married.

Didn't get sick of each other after all. And they had even known each other before she hit Vegas, too. Although, God forbid Gil would ever spill details about how long.

She should ask Lindsay if Sara had a twitter or facebook account. Maybe she'd get some dirt from her.

Oh, who was she kidding? They were hardly BFFs.

Fishing off the company pier…

She walked out of the room. Maybe, just maybe, she'd ask if Bobby Dawson wanted to join her for a beer after work.

….

Nah.

_________________________________________________________________

He was still chuckling over Catherine's response, when Sara walked into the hotel's business center.

"Catherine?" she asked.

"Yes. She writes the way she speaks."

"Uh, oh."

"Her response was a mixture of censure and sentimentality. Quite touching, actually."

"I'm sure," Sara said.

He looked up at her. Her eyes were anything but sure. He knew she didn't always get along with the hotheaded blond but he thought they were friendly enough.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. It's just—well, she's more your friend than mine. And I'm sure my leaving the way I did didn't win any brownie points with her. Plus, 'taking' you away from the lab…"

"She's not a woman's woman. She never has been and never will be. She's far too competitive for that. But, she liked you. And she liked us. The idea of us. She was…on our side a very long time ago."

Now the look he received was downright skeptical.

"I'm not kidding. I remember a time when I was … resigned to letting you go. And she told me to get my head out of my microscope and…I did. For a little while, anyway." He smiled softly, picturing the moment in his mind. "She also told me you were a survivor at a time I really needed to remember that. And she told me to go after you, long before I felt the time was right. She was…probably right about that. No, she was definitely right about that."

Sara quietly nodded and they shared a look over the computer monitor.

One last Catherine moment came to mind. One he appreciated, perhaps, more than any other.

A wink. And a smile.

Her version of a blessing.

"I am a part of all that I have met," Grissom said and looked up at his beloved…wife.

Wife. A word so new, yet so…right.

His beloved Sara…the warmth of her brown eyes, the softness of her hands as he took both in his own, before slipping his grandmother's wedding band on the third finger of her left hand…

The touch of her lips as they sealed their promise in a small Costa Rican church, with a nun and a gardener as witnesses…

"Tennyson?" she asked, snapping him out of his reverie.

He nodded. She was getting incredibly good at identifying his quotations. No matter how obscure.

He had an effect on her. Just as she had on him. Just as Catherine had had, and Jim and Nick and …

Grissom was glad they knew.

Because they were all connected. And all had an effect on him. On them.

And for that, he was grateful.

It's what turned the creature—the crime-investigating machine…

Back into a man.

The End.

Connections 2: Nick

May, 2005

He was pretending to still be asleep.

She could have been insulted, but she just thought it was funny. Although common sense told her that showing any outward signs of amusement would be a bad move, since laughing at a man during their first time in bed together could easily be misunderstood.

Still, he was being…cute.

Who knew Gil Grissom could do cute?

She leaned up on one elbow and looked at his face. At the eyelids that were not relaxed. At the very even-- too even--rise and fall of his chest.

She moved her hand to his face and ran the tips of her fingers across his left cheekbone.

Sara always loved his cheekbones. She had no idea why. She loved them when he was clean-shaven, and now, it was this smooth expanse of skin that contrasted nicely with the roughness of his beard.

It gave her a small thrill to have first-hand knowledge of the textures of his face.

He opened his eyes.

"You woke me," he said, in a completely emotionless voice.

"You've been awake for at least five minutes," she replied.

"What gives you that idea?"

"I followed the evidence. One—you stopped snoring. You're a light snorer, in case you weren't aware of that fact. Two—you kind of tensed up. The assumption I made is that you suddenly remembered where you were and what happened, although I'll admit, that's all conjecture on my part and Three—well, the fake measured breathing wasn't very convincing."

"And, yet, you let me go on for five minutes…"

"I'm not going anywhere," she said, knowing his reply would be quite different.

He looked at her for a moment and she saw the panic he was trying to tamp down.

"I've…gotta go. I need to change before work and…well, maybe I'll drop by and see Nick at the hospital."

"I should do that, too."

There was a sudden "NO!!!" in his eyes and she stifled a smile.

Then, she sighed softly. No one ever said this would be easy. No one ever said this would 'be.' And, from the looks of things, 'no one' could very well be right.

"I won't," she said quietly. "I'll see him after shift tomorrow."

Grissom nodded. "I have to go."

"You said that already," Sara ran her hand down the side of his face. His beautiful face. If she never had this particular view of it again, in this lifetime, she had this moment.

"You know," she said softly, "I will always be glad you came to me."

She leaned forward, gently positioned her mouth over his and kissed him. When she opened her eyes again, she found him staring at her.

Funny, she half-expected to be better able to read him…now. That wasn't the case at all.

As she was about to sit up and move away, he caught her wrist.

"Why?" he asked.

She smiled again. He still didn't get it. Well, she had nothing to lose. Even if he was viewing this all as a colossal mistake, she could always console herself with the fact that she made the effort.

She slid her wrist out of his loose grip. "Because, I've always wanted to know what your eyes look like—this close—when they are dark and stormy," she said, and then gently ran her hand through his hair. "I wanted to know what your hair feels like. Soft. Much softer than I thought…" she mused. What did she tell someone like Grissom?

She gripped his shoulder lightly, "I wanted to know how YOU feel. And, I wanted you to know…how I feel."

His eyes never left hers the whole time. That was progress. And he picked up on her dual-meaning immediately.

"You know, that's scientifically impossible. Truly knowing what another person is feeling…" A tiny smirk was forming at the corner of his mouth.

She rolled her eyes. "Well, sometimes science doesn't enter into the equation."

There, now she committed blasphemy in his eyes. That ought to kill things for good.

"What about chemistry?" he asked, and she smiled in response.

"Okay. Maybe chemistry has a small part in it. But, the rest…"

The rest…well, the fact that he needed to explain it all told her a lot. And what it told her was not exactly positive. By the beginning of shift tonight, he'd have it all neatly categorized and put away in the file cabinet of his mind. Two people: highly overworked, emotional (for them), working to save the life of a friend under extreme circumstances. A certain chemistry existing between the two of them…and…boom. One night of passion, never to be repeated.

But, that's not the way she'd look at it. Ever.

She leaned back down and gave him another, perhaps last, kiss. She wanted to memorize the feel of his lips against hers, the smell of a warm, sleepy Grissom when he first laid eyes on a new day, the absolute silence in the room, broken only by the sounds of their breathing.

Sweet, sweet Gil Grissom. She loved him and still didn't know exactly why. But it was big and grand and made her heart ache half the time. And always would. She broke the kiss.

He was gripping her wrist again. It was his turn to sigh.

"Stop kissing me goodbye, Sara. Let me kiss you good morning. I know I'm not good at expressing myself around you, but…I never would have come here last night if I wasn't sure. At the same time, I didn't pack a bag and…well, how about you pack yours and meet me at my place after shift tonight? If you're comfortable with that?"

A bag? Kissing good morning?

"Okay," she said, with probably no more emotion than he expressed when he woke up.

"Good. Are you more in tune with how I feel now?" he asked with a smile finally reaching his eyes.

She decided to lighten the mood a bit and moved her leg to slide against his thigh.

"Well, it's kind of easy now. You're feeling…frisky."

That got a genuine laugh.

He reached out and curled his hand around the back of her neck and drew her face down to his. "How could I say goodbye to someone who thinks "frisky' and "Gil Grissom' go together?" he said, before giving her a kiss that was neither gentle, nor indecisive. It was nice to see him, to feel him, in take-charge mode. It was even nicer to know this was, truly, a beginning, no matter how awkward some of it felt.

There was a soft, totally satisfying sound as their two pairs of lips disengaged.

"See you later," he said, and he was up and out of the bed, affording her one last glimpse at a nicely rounded behind before he ducked into her bathroom.

____________________________________________

Present Time

Sara went into the business center of the hotel.

One more week and they'd be back on the road. Headed back to the United States. A seven and a half hour flight is all that stood between them and "home."

They had both checked their email on a regular basis since Grissom sent out his little announcement. A lot of lab personnel sent them well-wishes. Short, but sweet. Still, some of those that they both had considered friends had not. But, it had only been a couple of days. And, she knew all too well that the personal always took a back seat to work.

She clicked on the silly, yet kind of adorable, GrissomandGrissom address Gil had set up.

There were four messages: one from Wendy, one from Mandy and one from Nick.

Two cheerful subject lines with a line of exclamation points following the word, "congrats" greeted her from the ladies, while one from NickStokesLVPD had "For Mrs. Grissom" in the subject line. And, the more recent one had a "please ignore the first email" message.

She clicked on the one she wasn't supposed to read first.

"Sara,

I hope you're reading this by yourself. Although, really, I guess it doesn't matter. You probably tell him everything anyway. Which, I guess, is the way these things go.

Catherine told us about your recent wedding. Well, not so recent, really. Funny, she never even mentioned that he had gone off to see you. I guess most people assumed that he did. I didn't, though. I mean, you know me. I don't use my imagination when it comes to the lives of other folks. I prefer to take them at their word. And, you know, he didn't say anything and you were just…gone. And I know that life handed you some pretty big lemons but I really thought we were all family. And families support each other. No matter what.

Anyway, this is probably not coming out the way I want it to. I just wish you would have considered me enough of a friend to turn to me for help when you felt you needed it. Especially since we both suffered on account of our job. And I also wish you had let me know about you and Gris. Years ago, really. But, especially now.

Still, I'm happy for you. Just—don't let him change you that much, okay? Because, you were a pretty cool Sara Sidle, you know.

Love, Nick."

She clicked on the more recent one.

"Dear Sara,

You read it, didn't you?

I'm…sorry. I was sorry the second I hit the button.

You know you're like a sister to me. I was just hurt. No excuse other than that.

Congratulations, Sara. Grissom is a great guy and very, very lucky to have found you.

I really do wish you joy and love.

~Nick"

Well, that served her right.

And hit her in the head with a 2 by 4.

And … hurt like hell.

She hit reply.

Then changed her mind.

She needed to think.

And needed to see Gil. Just see him. Not tell him any of this. No—he just—wouldn't get it.

Or maybe he'd get it all too well. And she couldn't bear to see that.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For a few hours, she forgot about the email.

A few things replaced the words. The sight of Grissom, on all fours, cleaning up after Hank's latest "accident' in their hotel room, for one.

"I don't know why I'm bothering," he said, as he scrubbed at the stain. "I have a feeling we're going to own this carpet by the time we leave here."

She stooped to give Hank a big kiss on the forehead, then dropped to all fours herself, and helped him clean.

Later, as she watched him really sleep, eyelids relaxed and snoring happily, she touched his bearded face, as she once had, years before.

"I will always be glad you came to me," she whispered. "Always."

And then got up, got dressed, and left the room.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To: NickStokesLVPD

From: Ssidle

Re: Your email

Dear Nick,

I actually ducked out of our hotel room to call you. But, I know you're at work right now and—well, there are advantages to doing this by mail. I can't see you anyway, so there is no advantage of a face-to-face discussion and people get sidetracked during phone conversations.

I think I've been expecting an email like yours for about a year now. We never did pull many punches around each other, did we? We never had to.

I don't regret not telling anyone about my relationship with Grissom. It was very new and very tenuous. I know what I felt. I've known what I've felt about him for over a decade. I have no idea why. It was just one of those things you see in movies sometimes and feel can't possibly exist in real life. I remember, after seeing him speak for an hour (with half the class kind of falling asleep), I was mesmerized. And I just knew. I knew it was him. The Him. The him for me. Maybe not at that moment in time, but—someday. I guess I thought someday had begun when he invited me to work in the lab.

But, that didn't happen. Not for a very long time. He's a tough guy to read, sometimes. I'm sure that's not a shock to you. And, stubborn, too. And very, very set in his ways. So, when we got together, I didn't want anything—or anyone—messing it up. Not with a smirk, or a smile, or a misguided joke. It was that important to me. It IS that important to me.

What I do regret is leaving. And, yet, I probably would do the same thing all over again. That's not much of an apology, is it?

It's funny. I think you had expectations of me turning to you because of what you suffered from our job. I thought about it a lot. Not in a talk to Nick, he'll understand kind of way. But in a look at what Nick went through. You don't see him falling apart like that. That's the way I was looking at you.

I was falling short. Way short. Of my own expectations, of Grissom's.

And, you know, he was so happy that I was alive. And so was I. He proposed to me at that time. I bet you didn't know THAT. And I said yes.

And then I'd go off to work and feel more and more like I couldn't breathe.

And less and less like myself.

And I had to save myself and leave. Even if I had to give up absolutely everyone and everything I ever loved to do that.

Things…got better. But not to the point where I could go back to my old life again. I thought that Gil just wasn't going to join me in the new one. But, I was wrong. Very happily wrong. And this is another screw-up. One I've been aware of. I know—and he knows—we should have contacted all of you before. He kept in touch with Catherine just long enough to get some things out of our condo and have our dog sent to us (FYI—we have a dog. Probably something else you didn't know and I'm sorry for that, too). And then, I think we just thought of our happiest time. When we first got together and how everything in the non-work world just revolved around us. Just our tiny "family." And how very much we missed it. And how we would do anything, sacrifice anything, to keep that recaptured feeling safe.

We still would. But, I think some of that fear is being replaced by confidence in our relationship and true confidence in each other.

So, we're letting the world back in. We never meant to hurt you by shutting you all out. Never. But we did, and I'm very sorry for that.

You saved my life, Nick. Quite literally. And, you were my friend.

I hope that hasn't changed.

We'll see each other again…soon.

~Sara

She slowly pushed the send button and sat back and sighed.

Nick…if it weren't for Nick getting kidnapped and buried alive, Gil might never have come to her. No, that probably wasn't true. He probably would have…in another decade or so. She shook her head and sighed again.

Nick's ordeal brought people together. Hers tore them apart. It was a guilt she'd have to live with. And, in the end, perhaps everything had worked out as it should have. She knew she was happier now than she had ever been, and so was Gil. And the rest of them, well—she didn't know. Maybe they weren't too happy in their relationships with 'the Grissoms' but, in the end, she had to accept the fact that she just couldn't please everyone.

She felt better. Whether Nick would accept it or not—truly accept it—was up to him. It was out of her hands now.

Sara got up and went upstairs. She wanted nothing more from this night than to snuggle her face against her husband's shoulder and feel the weight of her dog's head on her feet.

_________________________________________

Greg Sanders walked into the break room, watching Nick as he read something on his phone. He was smiling.

"What's got you so happy?" Greg asked.

"Sara. She emailed me."

"Yeah? That's great. How is she doing?"

"Good, good. Well, I guess she's good. I kind of…gave her a hard time in an email I sent. But, she's not mad."

"You gave her a hard time? Why?"

"I don't know. I…found out about her and Gris and…I just freaked out. About her leaving and stuff."

"That's kind of old news, Nick."

"I know that. But, it's not like I could tell her how I felt at the time. And, I guess I needed to get it out of my system now. Anyway, she explained that…well, she just wasn't as strong as me, when it came to the dealing with the trauma thing. Who knew, right? I mean, Sara seems like a tough chick, but …"

"She's still a chick, right?" Greg looked at him with his eyes slightly narrowed.

"That's not what I mean. I meant, she's just a lot softer than I thought she was."

Greg went over to the coffee pot and made a larger production out of preparing himself a cup than he needed to.

It kept him from talking.

Kept him from telling Nick that he once had a massive crush on Sara. And, as with most of the women he had massive crushes on, he did some investigating. Just to make sure the Sanders gene pool wouldn't be compromised, of course.

A scientific approach to love was a sensible approach to love.

So, he gathered a little DNA from her coffee mug. Ran her name through a few databases. The usual…

It didn't take much investigation before he found out…things…that proved just how tough Sara Sidle had been. And just how devastating that night in the desert must have been.

And just how worthy of love and admiration she was. As if it was even possible for her to be worthier than he initially thought.

Let Nick think what he wanted. He knew the truth.

And so did Grissom.

End of Chapter 2.

A/N:

Some people told me they missed my ramblings. Wheee!

Anyway, this was interesting to write. I always had a general plan for this chapter but I've written Nick as a very gentlemanly "friend under any circumstances" type of guy in the one or two scenes I've given him along the way. And, in this one, he's expressing some real concerns. But, I view him as a meat and potatoes kind of guy. And I also think that, given the relationship with Sara, he wouldn't pull any punches, even if it hurts.

But, anyway, I kind of liked it. I was going to chicken out and make the ending just a bit more hearts and flowers with a more true understanding on Nick's part, but…nah.

Over and out. I don't actually know who will be my next victim in this series! Or what role they will play. Ah, the possibilities!

Connections 3: Greg

February, 2005

Gil Grissom had always found Greg Sanders rather annoying.

Not in the usual way most people found Greg Sanders annoying. Those "quirks," like lab dancing to blaring, bad music and revealing his discoveries by forcing people to guess the meaning behind his riddles, Gil could deal with.

What he couldn't deal with was the jealousy he felt toward the young man.

And it wasn't normal jealousy, either.

He didn't envy Greg for being younger, or more attractive or even being much of a threat in the love department.

He was a huge threat, however, in the friendship department.

He was Sara's friend. As unlikely as it seemed, they were getting closer and closer as time went on.

While he, himself, didn't know how to reverse the odd direction his own relationship with Sara had taken.

Greg had always flirted with her—openly.

She had always slapped him down—figuratively, of course—openly.

But, now, he found himself a witness to moments that were not necessarily meant for public consumption.

He heard them laughing. He saw them passing by his office, talking, relaxed and…dare he even think it…happy? Of course, their playing field had leveled lately. Or, maybe it hadn't. Sara was the mentor this time. With her own adoring student.

But, she seemed to appreciate the opportunity.

While Grissom, himself, just fucked it up.

That was the only way to think of it, really. He realized that for the first time when he was driving her home from the police station, after nearly losing her to a DUI "incident.' And he would have lost her. Either through automatic dismissal, if she had been charged, or—God forbid, if…well, she was driving under the influence. But, he couldn't bring himself to complete the thought.

He couldn't lose her. Ever.

And, yet, he still couldn't move in what anyone would call giant steps. Toddlers were speeding past him.

Until…he almost lost her again--this time, through her somewhat hair-trigger temper emerging at the wrong moment.

And the sudden delicacy of others who never practiced much restraint themselves.

"It means something to me," he said to her. Only to get her to talk. Which she did.

He played dirty. Greg, perhaps, wouldn't. But, perhaps, Greg already knew all of Sara's secrets.

While he, himself, suddenly wished he didn't know.

He reached out and grabbed her hand as she started crying. The hand he wasn't holding was being used to partially cover her face. She seemed ashamed of her tears.

Lord, he was bad at this type of thing, but he held on. That had to be the right thing to do. So, he did it.

She sobbed as quietly as possible and he tried, as hard as possible, not to think of being a young child and witnessing your father's death at the hands of your mother. His own father was just…dead. And it had been scary enough. Traumatic enough. But, Sara's situation…

He heard her sniff and she looked at him quickly and then looked away, "Bet you're glad you asked, huh?"

"I am."

"Why?"

"Because…I'm your friend. Or I want to be."

"You think I tell my friends everything?

"I assume…"

"No one knows about this. Not one person in my adult life knows about this. Except you. And, well, you wouldn't know about it either except…I think I really wanted you to. But, I didn't mean to get this emotional about it."

"Why wouldn't you? It was a horrible thing to happen, Sara. The worst."

"But it's long past. I am glad you know, though. Maybe…well, maybe you'll understand a few things about me and remember me without thinking that I was completely unreasonable in my reactions to everything."

"Remember you?"

"I'm fired, as I recall."

"No. I said Ecklie wanted me to fire you. I didn't say I would do it."

She frowned. "I don't want you to not to do your job because you pity me."

"I don't pity you. I am horrified by what you went through. I have nothing but admiration for how you handled it. But it has nothing to do with the decision I made the minute "Conrad" opened his mouth. That's business. You are too good to let go because of the bruised egos of people on power trips."

She narrowed her eyes and looked straight at him. He could tell the exact moment when she believed him.

"I don't want you to jeopardize your job."

"I won't," he said and looked at her again. His pretty Sara. His pretty, complex, more complex-than-he-ever-imagined, Sara.

Here lies madness, he thought. Not in her. In him. In his reaction to this woman.

"Well, I should get back to the lab. Now, in regards to this afternoon…" he got up and made his way to the door, with Sara following close behind. He turned to her. "Your temper? Don't lose it again. That's my official reprimand."

She smiled weakly and then turned her face away from him slightly. There was that telltale sheen in her eyes.

Friend. Be a friend. Not a boss. Not anything else. A friend.

He reached out and pulled her in his arms. He could feel the stiffness in her body. ''It's okay. It's okay," he muttered, one arm around her waist, holding her close, the other shifting to the back of her head, automatically stroking her hair.

It's okay. It's all okay. He knew now. And she knew he knew. And they'd be okay.

They'd be okay.

Their embrace lasted only a few moments but the warmth continued. And the jealousy ended.

He found himself looking forward to seeing her with Greg. There was a certain beauty in seeing her as a teacher, as a mentor. And besides, Greg didn't really know the Sara he knew. He didn't know just how strong and wonderful she was—outside of the lab. And he couldn't possibly feel the warmth that Grissom felt when he watched her smile—that full smile that seemed to be more and more genuine as time went on, and they resumed the friendship they had tentatively started all those years ago.

Yeah, Greg was no threat in any department.

He was just fine in Grissom's book.

XXXXX

Present Time

To: Gil Grissom

From: GSandersLVPD

Re: Your Nuptials

So, geez, Gris. I knew you were off to get The Girl, but you had to trek all the way to Central America? And then you couldn't take her back so I could cry at your wedding? Or be your flower boy?

Some friend you are.

I guess you're wondering why I'm addressing this to you and not the Mrs.

Well, I will write one to her, too. It might get sappy, though. Or not. I guess I haven't decided how truthful I want to be. Not yet, anyway.

But, well, I wanted to talk to you about some stuff I never would have the … uh, courage, to tell you in person.

I've always admired you as a boss. You know that, right? And there's your compliment.

But, I've really been angry with you over the past few years. On and off. I knew about you and Sara probably before you even did. Well, I knew how she felt. And I kind of knew how you felt. But, things were not always on course. And then, she left and…man, I was SO angry with you. I could have kicked you in the butt every time you walked down the hall. I just couldn't figure out how such a genius could be so clueless. Why you didn't go after her. I still don't know, exactly. But, hey, timing is important. And you can't rush true understanding—and I guess you finally came to the conclusion you were supposed to come to—in your own time. And since Sara said "I do," too, you probably succeeded.

Just…please don't do that again. She's a great girl and she deserves happiness.

And, on a personal level, I've become more impatient with age and don't know if I could restrain myself from that butt-kicking impulse any longer.

I miss you guys. It's not the same around here. Not at all. It's very hard to be a family and then—not.

I miss Sara's laughter, and your bad puns, and Warrick being all cool all over the place. And I miss the sense of belonging. Ray is a nice guy. He really is. But he's no Grissom. And Riley is no Sara and….well, you get the picture.

Anyway, I'm starting to veer off into another direction and get maudlin.

I wish you guys all the happiness in the world. I'll dedicate my book, if it ever gets published (and things aren't looking good at the moment—some folks think Vegas history is not relevant), to you both. To you for teaching me bizarre facts—which have made me a master Trivial Pursuit and Jeopardy player, and for showing me what NOT to do in a relationship, which I fully intend to use if I ever stop pulling doubles and meet a girl who is half the woman Sara is… And, speaking of Sara, I'd dedicate it to her…just for being herself. Which is a pretty darned nifty thing to be.

On second thought, (Third? Fourth?) I lost count. You can show her parts of this, if you want, or just send her my congratulations. She doesn't need some soupy love letter from an ardent fan and admirer. That's your job now!

Take care of yourselves.

Best regards (and, yes, love to you both),

Greggo

XXXXX

First, Greg's email made him smile.

Then it made him think.

He couldn't get the image of Greg's badly battered face out of his mind. Somehow, he wished Greg would "retire," too. Or go back to being a lab rat. He was a damned good lab rat. And he had more fun in his life.

Greg was a lot more like Grissom than either of them initially thought, even if Grissom had never worn a Carmen Miranda-worthy headdress and danced around the lab.

The young man had been so stoic, and so broken.

Grissom huffed out a laugh.

He was a lot like Sara, too. Both wanting to hold back their emotions to be more like Grissom; to earn his respect. Both seemingly unaware that they had earned that respect years before.

A vision of Sara came to him, too. One that came to him often. One that he always tried to "change." Her lying on her side, sun-burnt, bruised, cut, battered. Half-dead. He shuddered at the thought.

He had one more week. One more week to do what he should have done almost two years ago, now.

"Sara? Let's take a walk…"

XXXX

X

They left Hank in the hotel room. They would probably find a gift from him upon their return. The dog loved taking walks in this little slice of paradise, and didn't appreciate being left in the room, alone. Besides, if truth be told, he probably still had some separation anxiety issues every time he couldn't see Sara.

Grissom could definitely sympathize with him there.

No one was at the pool area. Funny, having a pool there when you could walk over to numerous waterfalls and natural sources of water. Still, this pool was well lit at night and lovely, if in a more artificial way.

They sat and dangled their feet in the water.

"Gil? This isn't exactly a mega-walk, you know," Sara said, with great amusement.

"I know. I wanted to talk…"

"Uh, oh," she said, and smiled slightly. "You aren't going to ask me for a divorce, are you?"

"No," he said, decisively. Then he stopped. How to broach the subject? "Uh…'to have a friend, you need to be a friend.'"

"Oh…kay. That doesn't sound the least bit like Shakespeare."

"It's not. I read it on a fortune cookie once."

"Ah. And the significance?"

"Greg wrote us a congratulatory email."

"Ah. It's about time. You noticed how these things are kind of coming in in dribs and drabs? I expected an influx, and then nothing. I guess we really threw them for a loop, huh?"

"I guess so. Or, maybe I wasn't a very good friend to any of them."

"How could you say that? You've been there for all of us, when we needed you."

"No, I haven't, Sara. I have been closed off and uncommunicative. I haven't shared my life and haven't always shared theirs. But I do appreciate your total faith in me."

She rolled her eyes and put her head on his shoulder for a moment. He put his arm around her shoulders in return and held her to him, briefly.

"Greg's email was … touching. I don't know that he meant it to be, but it was. And it brought to mind a time when I could have been a better friend to him than I was. And it reminded me of how similar he is, in some ways, to you. And to me."

"You're losing me, Gil."

"I should have asked him more about his experience with the Demetrius James case. I know I helped him in some ways, but he should have been able to speak to me about anything he was feeling. And I know he was holding a lot back. Just as I know, even now—you're holding back a lot about what happened to you in the desert."

She sighed loudly.

"It was a long time ago, now. All over," Sara said, and he could feel a certain stiffness in her body.

"Time doesn't matter. Our experiences stay with us—forever, sometimes. And, well, we're going home. It's been easy to put everything aside here. But it might not always be easy at home. For example, I—for one—would like to someday see everyone from the lab again. I won't, if it makes you uncomfortable. But I'd like for it to not make you uncomfortable. And, for that to happen, I think we need to air out a few things. And I thought this was as good a place as any to do that. Better than most, actually. It's so far away from the reality we've known."

Sara made some sort of negative sound. He wasn't sure how to categorize it, exactly.

To have a friend, you have to be a friend…

And you have to share.

"Let me go first. I think, maybe, you need to know what it was like for us, as well. For me, rather. And, if you want, you can tell me whatever you want to tell me. Or, you can say nothing," Grissom took a deep breath and remembered that horrible, horrible night. "I walked into my office and found the miniature. It was right there. And…I knew something was very different about this one. I remember my heart … you were under that car…"

Hank had to wait a long time before seeing Grissom and Sara again that evening.

And they didn't wait to be billed before paying for the rug in their room.

XXXXX

To: GSandersLVPD

From: GGrissom

Thank you, Greg. For your congratulatory email. For your good wishes. And, mostly, for being the kind of friend who, even when he's wanted to kick my behind, refrained from doing so—and from sending a love letter to my wife.

I appreciate your friendship, more than you know.

There will never be a "family' quite like ours.

~Gil

XXXXX

Greg signed off the computer with a smile. He looked around. Riley was arguing with Hodges, rather loudly. Langston was walking around with that kit on wheels. Brass was still around to snark. Nick was earning brownie points and Catherine—well, she was just doing her job.

Maybe they were all just doing their jobs, now.

He picked up the phone and heard a familiar voice.

"Hey, Lily. Want to go out for dinner tonight? I need to get a few more stories for my book. Yeah, well, it may be on the back burner now, but I figured if I took the stories I initially rejected for the book—the jucier ones—we may be in business again. Hey, great! Anywhere you want to go. I'll pick you up at 6. Thanks, doll."

He smirked. Catherine's mom loved those old-time endearments. And he loved her like a friend of an older co-worker. Nah, he really did love her. She told a mean story and was funny to boot.

Now, she was family. Still.

Maybe not the one he wanted but…

Things changed. And he'd have to soon, too.

He wanted that book published. He wanted to start over again, before it was too late.

Besides, he had a really kick-ass dedication to write.

The end of part 3

A/N: For some odd reason, even though I love Greg, this one was harder than the others.

Ah, well. Sorry it's taken so long. I've been working on transferring my own website and realized I never posted half my stories (or created art work for any of them). Took me awhile, but it should be ready in another day or so.

CONNECTIONS 4: JIM BRASS

It's Brass' turn.

May, 2006
Goodbye, Sara. Say goodbye.

She couldn't. Not to him. She wasn’t ready. Didn’t she already say that?

Bye- bye, Sara. Sara, say goodbye.

"Sara?"

She groaned a bit and felt his arms around her. She'd know the feel of him anywhere: the warm strength of his embrace; the feel of his breath against her ear; the soft, smooth expanse of his cheek.

Wait. His cheeks weren’t smooth. They were bristly.

Just who the hell was in bed with her?

She sat up with a start only to see…

The cleanly shaved face of Gil Grissom.

"Sara? I think you were having a nightmare," he said.

Yes, that was him all right. Sara still could feel her heart thudding against the wall of her chest. She looked at the bedside clock. She had fallen asleep only a couple of hours before. After Gil decided to share his wish for a slow, painful death so he could say goodbye to the apparent myriad of people he loved. After they decided to celebrate life a bit. And her last memory of the evening had definitely been sharing afterglow with a bearded man.

"What…" she gestured at his face.

He grinned. "Like it?"

She took a deep breath. Calm. Be calm. It's all normal and there is an explanation. "Of course I do. But, when did you do this?"

"A few minutes ago. You were sleeping so soundly, I decided to take advantage of this rather rare occurrence and observe you while you were at rest. Your skin really hasn’t become accustomed to my beard at all.”

"It's just a little reaction. It goes away in a few days."

"Well, sooner or later, the fact that you wear turtleneck sweaters in 100 degree weather will strike our team of crack investigators as odd. Besides, you shouldn't have to suffer for my vanity," he said, rolling his eyes at his own words. "I'll tell them my face was hot."

It was her turn to roll her eyes.

She finally smiled. "What are you going to tell them when they ask why you shaved your beard?"

"Not convincing enough?" he asked.

"Oh, no. It's fine. Actually, it's very 'you.'"

"Thanks. I think. So, what was your nightmare about?"

She gave a slight shudder. "I don't know."

"You don't want to talk about it?"

"No. I don't mind talking about it but I don't remember any details. Just…someone saying it was time to say goodbye. Brass, I think. But, more than that, it was just this unbearable feeling of sadness and depression."

“I guess we shouldn't talk about death before going to bed."

"We talk about death all the time."

"But we don't personalize it. Actually…" he started, then stopped.

"What?"

"You never really told me how you'd like to go," he said, sheepishly.

She winced a bit and a brief flash of regret crossed his face.

"I'm sorry, Sara. You don't have to answer…"

"I'd like to die with your arms around me."

Grissom's eyes got wide, then he smirked. "Well, my dear, I hate to break it to you but the odds are not in favor of you leaving this mortal coil first."

"Doesn't matter, really," she shrugged. "If you aren't there physically, I'll still have the memory."

Sara found it very strange that a beardless-Grissom was even harder to read than when his face was covered with hair. Perhaps he didn't self-censor as much when he was 'protected.' Or maybe this was an 'over-share' he wasn't quite comfortable with and he was presenting a look from his blank stare collection.

"You might have a whole new life by then,” he finally said.

She bit her lower lip and shook her head slightly. Then she ran her fingers across his incredibly soft cheek. What she wanted to say would remain unsaid…for now…

Besides, she had a strong feeling that, somehow, he knew.

She'd never be able to say goodbye to Gil Grissom.

August, 2009
“Bon jour, mon amour” Sara said, as Gil walked through the door.

He took his cue and went over to her, grabbed her hand and started kissing his way up her arm.

“Cara mia,” he said in response, as Sara laughed and playfully scolded him.

“Okay. That’s it. I’m cutting you off from all ‘Addams Family’ reruns. Last thing I need is a Cousin It around here, Gomez.”

He smirked and went over the couch. She went back to cooking dinner, as Hank dutifully sought an opportunity to carry out his duties as Canine Hoover.

Life had changed, once again. They went to California, checked into another extended-stay hotel until they could find a new home, and then found out the foundation that was going to support their research had their Board of Directors put all funding on hold for at least another fiscal year. It was back to the drawing board and Gil started looking at the piled up letters offering him various visiting scientist appointments. They headed to Paris within the space of a month.

He was enjoying the Sorbonne and she was enjoying everything about Europe. She had never been much of a traveler outside of the United States so she was gratefully soaking in everything. Trains had become her new friend and she found it astonishing that you could be in other countries so quickly and see so much in the process. In the meantime, since former, burned-out CSIs were not really in demand on the lecture circuit, she was polishing up her French so she could get a “real” job, although she didn’t expect much more, perhaps, than waitressing in a restaurant that was (perhaps) a step higher than the local McDonalds.

Still, life was pretty good.

And she was … feeling guilty again. Because life was going to change even more very shortly.

She supposed she could blame it on the e-mail from Brass that she received a few weeks before.

To: SSidle

From: JBrassLVPD
Hey, Sara.

I hear through the grapevine that you and your Significant Other have hit Europe now. The Sorbonne. Sounds…ritzy. Actually, I thought it was a cooking school. That’s how much this NJ-born and bred guy knows about French academia. Unless, of course, the Bugman has decided to go all culinary on us.

Lord knows, he’s changed quite a bit from the anti-social Joe I first encountered.

Love does that to a guy.

Of course, it took him a really long time to "transform" but I hope you’re finding it worth the wait.

I guess you must be surprised to hear from me. And I didn’t want you to think that I wasn’t happy for you. I was. And am. But I have to admit that I’m not always Rico Suave when it comes to the things I do and say. And I haven’t been able to find the right words. So, yesterday, when I found out about this French thing, I decided I’d better just write before the years flew by faster than the countries on your itinerary.

You’ve always meant the world to me, kiddo. I hope you know that. And I know I wasn’t Mr. Sensitivity when you were having difficulties on that last case. And I’m really sorry about that. You are so strong that—you’re sometimes hard to read. And it wasn’t like that time when you were experiencing your “cold.” Then, you had no one in your life. And you were being strong without having a support system to give that strength a little backup. Now, I figured—you had Grissom.

Wait…it sounds like I’m blaming him. Or making excuses. And I’m not. The thing is…I’m sorry. That’s what I’m clumsily trying to tell you.

And, another thing, even though I do—and will continue to—miss the two of you like crazy—I’m glad you’ve started a new life far away from this field. It nearly brought you both down and out and that’s not something that either of you should have had to experience.

Be happy, kiddo. I regret never having had the chance to say goodbye. Oh, I know Grissom probably believes we’ll all get together and go fishing someday, but we know that doesn’t happen in real life.

Still, I will always smile when I think of the two of you.

Love, Jim

To say that email brought up a lot of unresolved issues would be an understatement. And, to complicate matters further, she received a phone call from Ecklie a couple of weeks later. Well, frankly, she thought the phone call was originally intended for the other Grissom in the household. But, she was the Grissom that was home. And, to give him credit, he went through with it and asked her the question, as if he had been meaning to do so all along. Could she—or they-- think of someone they could recommend as a CSI, since the lab was suddenly short on staff (the "again" was implied)?

And, before she could think much about it, she volunteered herself.

By the time she thought more about it and called Ecklie back, asking if she could give him a definitive answer the following day, she found out Ecklie had called her husband to ask for "permission to borrow his wife."

Sara thought Ecklie phrased it that way to amuse her.

This time.

But, it pissed her off.

Still, she asked for the time. She took marriage very seriously, surprisingly. It wasn't just a piece of paper for her, after all. It was the ultimate in commitments. And she was going to make theirs work.

So, when Gil came home that day, they discussed it all.

"When you left, did they throw you a party? You never did say." Truth was, she never thought to ask. Nearly eight months later and she was still shocked at what had happened between the two of them, never mind the details of how he left the lab.

"No party. I just…left."

"You didn't tell anyone?"

"I told everyone. Several weeks in advance, actually."

"Really?"

"Yes. I thought it was only right."

"It was. But, you didn't say your goodbyes?"

He sighed. "Actually, I said goodbye, in one way or another, to everyone. And, really, it was just the way I wanted it. A few words with each of them. Privately. No fuss. Just…a few words…"

She smiled softly. So much for his big goodbyes to those he loved. Of course, he wasn't dying. Just going off and getting married…which some men considered a fate worse than death…but…

"I…never had a chance to say goodbye. Not to any of them. Not the first time I ran. Or the second."

"Different circumstances, Sara."

"I know. I know that. But…it bothers me that the last memory they have of me…the last memory they will always have of me is of this broken woman who had to run away from everything she worked for. Everything she was good at. Everything and everyone she cared about. I guess I never really realized how much that bothers me until recently."

"So…you want to leave them with another memory?"

"I guess so. I cared about them, Gil. And I missed them. I still do. Maybe more now than ever. I don't like them thinking that I…snapped. And I want to prove to myself that I'm not that broken woman. That she's not lurking somewhere beneath the surface, ready to take over again."

"Do you really fear that?"

"I don't know. I never feared it after I woke up in the hospital. After Natalie. And then…it just happened. So, the fact that I don't particularly fear it is not a great comfort."

It was his turn to smile. That soft, understanding smile.

"You're sure you want to do this alone?"

"Yes. You were ready to leave when you left, weren't you?"

He winced slightly. "Yes. I waited until I was ready."

"Well, I guess I wasn't quite ready. I thought I was but that was just the panic talking. I don't want to do this permanently. Not even long-term. I just want to do it until they hire someone. Until I've worked a few cases and just feel…useful. So I can look at this whole phase in my life with some sort of pride, instead of shame."

He narrowed his eyes and looked at her intently. "You should never be ashamed. Ever. Of anything."

"I won't be. Soon."

He pursed his lips briefly and nodded.

"Okay, then."

And so it was decided.

And she was making a casserole and soaking in these last few days of being the wife of a visiting professor from the States.

She put the food in the oven and joined him on the couch.

The Addams Family. Dubbed in French. Lurch had a certain added charm with a French accent.

She leaned her head against Grissom's shoulder.

"Cara mia," she said and closed her eyes for a moment, soaking in the warmth and the clean, masculine scent of the man she loved more and more, each day.

September, 2009
To: JBrassLVPD

From: SpouseofSidle

Re : A Request

Jim,

By the time you read this, Sara will be somewhere over the Atlantic. On her way back to the lab.

I know you don't share confidences. And I trust you not to tell her about this email. She doesn't need to know of my insecurities. Not in her. Never in her. But, certain events occurred in that last year I was in Vegas. Certain events happened in all the years I was in Vegas. The only thing was…so much of it was tempered because I had Sara by my side.

I remember when I took over your job. It was overwhelming…until she arrived. And then it was all … manageable.

I guess I should have known right there.

But, the thing is, I know now. And you've known this feeling before yourself. I want to protect her from everything. All harm. All hurt.

And none of us can do that for our loved ones.

All we can do is hope for the best.

And…ask for backup, when necessary.

So, as one friend to another, please … watch out for her. She is … everything to me.

Warmest Regards,

Gil.

Jim Brass read through the email and smirked. Then, he cracked his knuckles and started typing.

To: SpouseofSidle

From: JBrassLVPD

Re: Your request

Nice email moniker you got there.

You know, I think our friendship would have been damned near-Hallmark-worthy if only we had stuck to the internet. Geez, I learned more about you in one email than in a decade of seeing you every day.

Of course I'll take care of her.

And all I'll ask in return is that we actually DO go fishing one day. I'll even rent a damned boat!

Take care (and drop the kid a line once in a while to actually let her know you miss her. Dames like that kind of junk, you know),

Jim

Jim Brass powered down his computer and went out to finish his workday.

Tomorrow would be fun.

Screw goodbyes.

He'd get to say hello…again…to one of his favorite people.

Hodges

Summary: Conclusion of the series. It's Hodges' responsibility to bring it on home. Hang on for a bumpy ride.

XXXXX

Once again, Gil Grissom pulled out his fountain pen and began to write:

My Dearest,

It's a shame that the only time I put pen to paper is when we are physically separated. I guess I'm not a 'love letter in the lunchbox' type of guy. It takes an ocean between us to get me to acknowledge my gratitude for what I have, and how very much I miss you.

But, as I once said, though far apart…thou art with me still...

Although, those actually were not my words, were they? I am excellent at finding the right quote to suit the occasion, though. And perhaps reveal more about what is in my heart than my own words could ever convey.

I never mailed that first letter, although I know you read it. I wanted you to. The reason I didn't send it, at the time, was…complicated. I was halfway through addressing the envelope when I was filled with the certainty that, when we were together again, I would finally tell you the things my note could only hint at. In my own words, not Shakespeare's.

Of course, I didn't. I didn't even have the courage to hand you the letter. Just left it in plain sight until you noticed it.

I probably will never send this one to you, either. But, I know you'll read it.

I'll make sure of it.

This time, no Shakespearean sonnet will do. Perhaps the words will be clumsy, perhaps there will be very few words involved. Nothing, at this moment, feels appropriate to fully express the depth of emotion you bring out in me. Perhaps it is demonstrated, during our most intimate times together. Perhaps not. Expressions of the human heart are still somewhat of a mystery to me. But, I do know this: loving you has uncovered a whole new dimension to the person I thought I was; the person I thought was fully formed and unchangeable. And, today, I believe a better man exists within me than the one you met over a decade ago.

For this, and so much more, I thank you. And will continue to do so...every single day of our lives.

XXXXXX

May, 2008

There was a box of roses, laying open in her lap, and a letter in her "good" hand.

Sara had a good hand now. Well, to be more specific, she had a good arm. But her hand was attached…so…

Grissom's mind was wandering again. Concentrating on inconsequentials was easier than examining the Big Picture. Even though the most important part of that picture was still there—in focus—and very much warm and alive, even after her encounter with a serial killer.

She was in a hospital bed recovering from surgery to repair her broken arm. One more day, and he'd be able to take her home. She had put a time limit on her stay. If she wasn't released within 24 hours, as her doctor had promised, she vowed to raise hell and go home anyway.

That was a good sign.

But, what would happen then?

He willed his mind to travel elsewhere, but one look at Sara's face and he was back, fully, in the here and now.

She had tears in her eyes. Very close to spilling over, if history was any indication.

He'd kill Hodges. Whatever smarmy, self-serving, officious words he chose to make Sara feel…

"I'm going to kill Hodges," he repeated—this time, out loud.

Sara looked up from reading. "Why?"

"He's making you cry."

"They are good tears."

"Good?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "Yeah," she said, putting the letter down on top of the box and lovingly running a finger over one of the petals. They were an unusual shade of coral. But, he didn't care about the flowers…

He had to ask. "May I read it?"

She looked as if she was about to turn him down and then changed her mind.

"Sure. Why not?"

Grissom took the letter, handwritten on thick, expensive stationary. One point: Hodges.

Dear Sara,

I wrote this in advance, knowing those little cards in the flowers shop just weren't big enough for me to say what I needed to say.

They tell me that visiting you, at this point, would probably not be a good idea. And they are right. You need your rest. But, I just wanted to let you know that I'm happy you are alive and on the road to recovery.

We once, in a teasing exchange, agreed that we were not really friends. But, that was then, perhaps? In any case, friends or not, you are someone I admire. Someone I'm sometimes jealous of. And someone I'm extremely proud to know. Hence, the nearly-orange roses (I looked it up in the Language of Flowers: orange signifies Pride)

You walked through hell and arrived on the other side. No one else I know would have come half as far. It showed strength, and fortitude, and a determination I've never seen in any one else. And…well, it might be trite…but, I hope you will soon be blooming brighter than the blooms on these roses.

Take care,

Your friend (of sorts…and it does take all kinds),

David Hodges.

Well, shit. Hodges, pain in the ass though he was, had the ability to sometimes surprise him more than anyone else in the lab.

He had joined in with the rest of their team and worked tirelessly when he found out Sara had been abducted. And was the first one to begin putting all the puzzle pieces together. He not only found out where Sara was located, he turned around—post-finding her (and, more importantly, post-finding out about them) and now sent her a note that made her cry, in a good way.

It did, indeed, take all kinds.

And perhaps old Dave's "kind" was a lot different than he thought it was.

XXXXX

Paris, current time

"Hank, sit."

He really needed to get this dog re-trained. In an effort to give him a more normal life, after all the changes they had all been through, they had spoiled him rotten. And now, he wouldn't even sit to get a reward.

"Hank, sit," he repeated more firmly. "Or you won't get a cookie."

He almost laughed at his own words. Good thing he didn't have children. Well, not yet. Probably not ever. Although they never really discussed it.

God, he missed Sara. His lecture series was coming to an end and he was anxious to see her again. Even though she had been there, for a few days, just a couple of weeks ago.

He loved their reunions. Everything so fresh and new. Almost like when they first met. There was this…compulsion…to suck up every ounce of happiness they were afforded during these times because of the uncertainty of her schedule at the lab.

Amazing. He left a job he couldn't leave until he nearly had a nervous breakdown over the decision, and she went back. To find herself. To prove things to herself. And to him.

The fact of the matter was, Hodges had been wrong. And so had he. Sara had not really been ready to leave at all. She had been forced. Natalie…had lasting effects on her life. Yes, she had survived but her confidence in herself and the job she had devoted years to was gone. And what he hated more than anything else was the fact that she considered all her work as a CSI to be tainted by some personal "failure," because she no longer could view any case from the outside. She was now a victim. Not one who had lived through a traumatic event many years before but a "fresh" victim. And everything was raw and personal now.

But she wasn't ready to give up solving puzzles. Not when the biggest one: how the mighty Sidle had fallen, was still out there, unsolved.

She had a score to settle. With Natalie. With herself. And he felt…she was almost ready to consider it a complete success and move on.

In the meantime, he did his thing and prayed a lot. Keeping her safe was always the first thing he asked for.

Keep her safe. Bring her back to us.

The only things, really, he asked for.

"Hank," he called and the dog lumbered over to him. And sat. "Good boy." Progress. He gave the dog the cookie that was nearly crumbling in his hand.

And then he walked over the computer. For his own treat. With any luck, there'd be another email in there from Sara.

Hey, Bug Boy!

You know, I totally hate these nicknames but I'm told that's what you do when you get hitched. You show your love by renaming your spouse something extremely silly like Cookie, or Snookums or Tushy-face. I settled for Bug Boy.

Feel loved?

You should. I've been thinking about you all day. It's embarrassing, really. People catch me with these stupid grins on my face and they know it's not my usual modus operandi. And I'm pretty sure they know how to put 2 and 2 together by now (although…given their past record with Grissom-Sidle math…maybe they just think I had a personality transplant… and am not thinking dirty thoughts about my husband).

But, aside from all that…

I hope you're not feeding Hank too many cookies. It took me days to get him back in shape the last time…and I'd rather spend my time in more productive ways. Like making you very, very happy, while replenishing my daydream material.

Nothing new here. Well, not really. Murder, mayhem, the usual. I think, maybe, I can get away next month. Ecklie has a candidate they are seriously considering as a full time member of the night shift. And, if that happens, it will only be a matter of time before I can fade out of this job. Maybe our grant will be closer to being funded?

We'll see.

Anyway, I'm missing you terribly now. We are in and out at all hours of the night AND day for this case, so I won't call today but I'll try and call tomorrow.

Be good.

Love, Mrs. Bug Boy (okay, I just made myself slightly nauseous!)

P.S. Just how do you feel about golf?

Golf?

Why would she be asking about golf? Strange.

Speaking of…

There was another email in his in box. He sighed when he saw who it was from and clicked on the link.

To: SpouseofSidle
From:

Re: You must call me!

I hope you are reading this, completely confused. Because that would mean my theory is wrong. And never have I hoped to be this wrong in my entire existence.

You see…I don't know how to say this. Because, well, if I am wrong, there is a strong chance that I will end up looking foolish but, if I'm not…well, it won't matter. And it's imperative that I find out that I'm wrong. Even if you will, perhaps, think less of me.

We are friends, after all. So, I know you'll trust this comes out of my deep, abiding regard and respect for our relationship.

I need you to call me so I can hear your voice. Because an email could be…fabricated, but your voice…well, I'd know it anywhere. And, you see, this whole situation makes no sense. It simply doesn't. I have the highest regard for Sara, as you know, but…she HAS you, you know? She waited years for you, per the rumor mill. You quit the job that was your life for her. Traipsed through the rain forest to get her and married the girl! I overheard her telling this tale to Greg, myself.

And…she's just sitting here. Absolutely content. Goes off once in a while, allegedly to visit you, but who knows? And she has this self-satisfied smirk on her face, from time to time. Which is…nothing short of frightening, frankly.

And…well, here goes. I must spell it out.

You and I both know how smart she is. She really could pull off the perfect crime. Perhaps the reality of living with you was different then the dream.

Aw, hell! The fact of the matter is, I fear for your health and safety. No, I fear for your very life!

Call me! I will not rest until I hear your voice!

Deepest Regards,

David Hodges

Grissom sat, with his mouth wide-open, and stared at the computer screen for a full minute. Then he burst into laughter. Hank ran over to his side—this time, without even waiting for his bribe.

XXXXXX

The next night, Grissom was laying back on the couch—his absolute favorite spot when it came to talking with Sara on the phone. She was telling him all about the latest case, he was just listening to the enthusiasm in her voice.

"Oh," he interrupted. "Before I forget, why were you asking me about golf?"

He listened to her laugh and his heart felt a bit warmer in his chest. "Oh, nothing. We had a case and Greg asked me how you felt about golf. He feels that it's a game you'd enjoy…but, I just couldn't answer him because I just didn't know. I guess it's one of the two or three things we haven't discussed."

"We've had more pressing concerns. For the record, I don't like it."

"No?"

"No. It's a bit too dull for me."

"Okay, I'll tell him."

"Wait! I forgot something else. Is…" he swallowed a moment. The things he had to do…"Is Hodges around?"

"Um…yeah. In the lab. Right across the hall. Actually, I think I just caught him staring at me."

"Well, could I … speak with him a moment?"

"Sure. But, why?"

"It's…complicated. I'll tell you later."

"Oh…kay. Hang on a minute. And, in case he hangs up or we get interrupted by work…"

"I know," he said, pressing his ear closer to the phone, "I love you, too."

She smiled into the phone and he waited while he heard her walk out into the hall. The one advantage of almost losing his hearing was he memorized the sounds of almost everything in the lab. He could honestly identify exact locations by simply…listening.

"It's Grissom…he'd…uh…like to talk with you?"

Sara sounded so bewildered that he had to stifle a hysterical laugh.

He could hear the phone being passed and heard Hodges officious voice, even though his hand was probably muffling part of the cell phone, "Sara? Some privacy, please?"

"I'll need my phone back when you're done," she said, in a voice that was laced with pure, unadulterated warning.

"Of course," Hodges said. "…and thank you." Grissom heard Hodges remove his hand from over the cell phone. "Gil?"

"Well, it's not the Ghost of Christmas Past, I'm happy to report."

He heard the sound of Hodges laugh and was suddenly…irritated. Breathe, he told himself.

"Oh, I know that. I apologize for over-reacting."

"You accused my wife of murdering me and hiding my body. Did you ever, perhaps, think of just calling the Sorbonne?"

"Well, no, I didn't," he said, and Grissom knew he was taking a moment to ponder this simple solution that had somehow escaped him. "I guess I was too busy trying to figure out how she did it. But, today, I realized that she didn't…well, you know…"

"I know. But, how did you figure this out?"

"Well, you know….women. Sidle…always had this…I don't know. Softness, I guess, when she spoke about you. It was almost imperceptible at times but it was there. And when the phone rang a half hour ago and she answered it, I knew it was you and that you were alive and well. I could tell…from that softness that came over her again. It's quite nice."

"Yes, I'm aware of that, too. So, conspiracy theories can stop now?"

"Absolutely," he said. Then added, "You're not going to tell Sara, are you? Because, really, she could pull off the perfect crime and she does have a temper…"

"She's not out to kill you, Hodges. She has better uses for her time."

"Good. And…speaking of good, it's very good to hear your voice. Even if you aren't dead."

"Thanks. I think."

And, with that, Hodges regaled Grissom with 10 minutes of chatter before Grissom begged off using the old "recharge my phone" excuse.

Some things, never changed.

XXXXX

In a supreme moment of stupidity (one I've regretted probably more than any other in my life), I once implied that I needed more than the safety of knowing I was not alone in the world. I think (no—I know) I was trying to manipulate you into staying in town, at a time when you just couldn't.

I miss you. But, I find myself walking down the street and just…smiling. Perhaps like one who is just short of being completely demented.

Because I'm thinking of you. And know you are thinking of me.

I think of where we were, and where we are now. Relationship-wise. I think of commitment; of a life-long vow.

And, this knowledge may not be everything, but…the security it brings is quite wonderful.

And, for this moment in time, it's exactly what I need.

XXXXX

To: SpouseofSidle
From:

I know it's only been days since my last email. You know, the one I thought you might not be around to read (LOL—that's laugh out loud, in case you didn't know. I overheard Catherine tell Sara that you are notoriously unsavvy in computer lingo. Which, I find hard to believe, knowing you as I do, but I thought I'd hedge my bets and spell out the acronym for you).

In any case, I am doing this as a gesture of friendship. This email, in general. Not the computerese course.

Shortly after non-murder-Gate, I began to think about your relationship. With Sara, I mean. How can you not want to be together? I, myself, am in the midst of working out a relationship, of sorts. Inspired, I might add, by your actions in regards to said /Mrs. Grissom. And I want to be with this lady more than...well, more than I want to be in the lab. And, since you and I have had so much in common, in the way we approach people and situations, I really examined this puzzle.

You see, because of the economy (and a very wicked sense of humor on Catherine's part, I suspect) I have sometimes been put out to do field work. So, puzzle solving of the human kind has now become somewhat of a new, forced-upon-me, hobby.

In any case, I thought of Sara, in particular. It was hard not to notice that, at times, pre-marriage, she was clinging to you like a barnacle on the bottom of a ship. So, How could she be content with the way things are now?

Well, I decided to ask her. Well, after getting several rather colorful suggestions about what I could do with that particular line of inquiry, I pushed her to the point of revelation. And, I can assure you, it was unintentional, as I could tell from her reaction.

She got sort of exasperated and finally blurted out, "Grissom doesn't like to be smothered," and the expression on her face was...telling.

I have no clue what this means, but I thought you should know.

The girl thinks you need your space. That's the conclusion I've drawn. And...well, mano y mano? A little word of advice, my friend. No matter how independent the woman--I think—once in a while, they kind of like a bit of the caveman to shine through. Even if it's against everything within your academic soul.

So, that's it.

I promise not to accuse your wife of murder (well, unless they find my body tomorrow...and then you can do that. LOL! )

And, for my own sake, I'll drop all further interrogations.

Best,

Dave

Grissom could feel his blood pressure reach the boiling point.

Ass-kissing, know it all, budinski of a jackass!

He began to type.

To: .lvpd
From: Spouse of....

Sidle.

When Sara left him...

that first time.

Grissom took a deep breath.

It was difficult.

Taking a breath was difficult at that time. Everyone was so worried about him. And he wanted them to just back off. Be normal. There was no other way of ever getting through it.

And there Hodges was...being...normal. Or as normal as "Dave" ever got.

And he just was a friend, as unlikely as it seemed. Played a game with him, got his mind off of things. Let him know that he was there, if he needed him.

He didn't.

He needed Sara. And, frankly, if the the advice "Dave" was now handing out had come earlier, he might have saved himself nearly a year from hell. But, who was he kidding? Grissom wasn't ready to hear it at the time.

Hodges was right. Academics...spent too much time up in their heads. Sara had much more of a handle on balancing things like that.

Grissom took a chance once. Left everything behind and went to get the girl.

And it worked out beautifully.

Maybe, it was time to go all caveman again.

Damn that Hodges.

XXXXX

Grissom was tying the belt to his robe when he approached the bed.

She tackled him before he could fully sit down.

Uh-oh. He knew what that meant. One look around confirmed his suspicion. His letter was opened and lying on the nightstand. He knew she would straighten their sheets after their … reunion. Hiding the letter between them and the mattress was a very good idea.

"You," she said, kissing him warmly on the neck, "are incorrigible."

"Now, my dear, I'm sure you'd like to reconsider the use of that particular word, given the circumstances."

"How many of these letters are you going to keep writing and never mailing? Is it the post office? Do you have a beef with them? No stamps? What?"

"I like to see your reaction after you read them. I'd never experience that if we were an ocean apart."

She sat back on her haunches and watched him as he made himself more comfortable, stretching out full-length, on his back.

"You're an odd man."

"I know. But, you married me...so, you're not exactly normal yourself."

"True," she said, leaning forward to kiss him quickly and grimacing a bit. "Bad for the back," she said, and stretched out next to him.

She looked at the ceiling for a few moments.

"Okay," she continued. "So, now, we're both unemployed. What next?"

Grissom smiled. He did take Hodges' advice (although he'd never admit that to anyone, least of all, old Dave himself). He finished his commitment at the Sorbonne and was on a plane in less than 2 hours, with his dog in tow.

He had one goal in mind when he came back into the lab. He didn't look to the right or left of him as he set out to achieve it, but marched right into Conrad's office.

"I told you you could borrow my wife. Not keep her."

"She's a brilliant investigator, Grissom," Ecklie said, stopping to frown, no doubt from a sense of deja vu over the words he just used.

"I know that. But she's done here. Understood?"

It was understood.

And, though Sara was shocked to see him, the little dimpled smile she gave him told him she understood (and approved), as well.

He took her hand and then gathered everyone else and took them out for breakfast.

And, as always, there was laughter and camaraderie and ...a slight melancholy.

Things had changed. They would never be able to relive some events in any other way except through their memories.

And, yet, there were new memories waiting to be made. And every second counted.

And he said as much, although probably not in any kind of an eloquent manner. Still, the hidden message was loud and clear.

I love you all but...

Me, man. Sara, woman. Mine. Taking home...now.

"What are you smiling about?" She asked as he lay in bed, grinning to himself.

"The future."

"Ah. The one where we are soon going to be sharing our dog's food?"

"Hardly. I...have a seller for the condo."

She sat up, sharply.

"You do? Are you kidding me?"

"Nope. When I talked to the leasing agent for our apartment in Paris, they asked me if I knew of a real estate agent here. They needed a property for a rich client who loves Vegas. I...told them about ours. Showed them a few snapshots of us around the house...and...sold it. Full asking price. The French—very impulsive people. So, you see, we can move, get a slightly less expensive home in California and...even begin research. On our own dime, before our grant goes through. If you're still interested, that is."

He never knew exactly what she was thinking when she looked at him that way. All he knew was, her looks did things for his ego that nothing else could.

"I'm interested," she said softly. "I heard what you said to Ecklie, by the way. Hodges told me. He 'just happened' to be passing by the office. He told me you were 'virtually Neanderthal."

Grissom rolled his eyes. Hodges...was...Hodges.

And, in this case, the guy wasn't half bad.

"I know how you feel about such things but...I missed you, Sara. And, as selfish as it may sound, I want to be with you more than I want you to continue this...solo journey."

She shrugged. "The journey has been completed for a while, I guess. I just...I don't know. You've always been kind of a lone wolf. So have I, but I have wanted the company more than you seemed to, at times. And I thought if I just sat around and did nothing but wait for our project to begin, you might get bored with me."

"Never."

She stared at him a few seconds more and, apparently satisfied with the veracity of his response, she settled back down next to him.

"I'm glad you went in there to Ecklie. You know, he's been stalling for quite some time. You'd think he'd be happy to get rid of me. I've never been his favorite person."

"Maybe not. But he does recognize your worth as a worker. And, ultimately, that reflects on him."

"I guess. So...we begin again?"

"Yup."

She placed her hand on the side of his face. A little twinkle came to her eyes and she repeated the words they had said just short of a year before.

"I, Sara, take you, Gil..."

He smiled. It wasn't the first time she repeated that particular vow. She loved that line...closet softy that she was.

It was highly appropriate.

They were saying goodbye to Vegas. As it should have been from the beginning. It wasn't a rejection of anything, but an attempt to move forward. To start again. A new exciting journey, with just the two of them.

Hank barked suddenly. Grissom laughed.

" I swear that dog is psychic," he told Sara, and she looked at him quizzically.

A new exciting journey...with just the THREE of them...

"I am part of all I have met," he thought, not for the first time. Okay.

Perhaps there was no such thing as just the three of them.

Because they were carrying around the love and blessings of all those people who had been a part of their lives for so long. And leaving behind their love and blessings to each and every one of them. Until they all got together again, in one way or another.

He felt Sara sigh as she rested her head on his shoulder.

"I loved your letter, by the way," she said, and he squeezed her gently. "Although, I love you even more."

He closed his eyes.

Over a decade ago, he would sometimes lie in bed and try not to dream of a younger student who attended one of his seminars. And her big brown eyes and wide smile would haunt him.

He was on his way to being "settled." He didn't need this complication. Because, he knew, on some level, Sara wasn't just a complication. She was a change of life. And nothing could be scarier to a man like him.

But, he was also a man who had a roller coaster addiction.

Grissom heard the slow, steady breath of his sleeping wife and the nasal snore of his over-cookie-filled dog.

Okay. It wasn't hurtling down the Kingda Ka, but...

Sometimes it was the little thrills in life that made it all worthwhile.

XXXXX

The End.

XXXXX

A/N: Well, I have never written a story over the course of an entire year.

Shame on me. But, it's done. It's been a bit difficult reconciling my romantic ideals with the rather odd turn CSI decided to take this year. They have had so much opportunity to make it special...and they didn't. But, what else is new? If they did everything we expected them to...us ff writers wouldn't be so frustrated and have a deep desire to make things "right." Or, as "right" as we can, given the circumstances.

Anyway, thank you for your patience with me on this one. I appreciate every single one of you who take the time to read my writings and ramblings.