Fandom: CSI Rating: PG-13 Pairing: GSR Summary: Another serial killer strikes Las Vegas--but this one has a twist.   Disclaimer: Most of the characters and situations in this story belong to Alliance Atlantis, CBS, Anthony Zuicker and other entities, and I do not have permission to borrow them. No infringement is intended in any way, and this story is not for profit. All others belong to me, and if you want to borrow them, you have to ask me first.  Any errors are mine, all mine, no you can't have any. Spoilers: through "Bull"   Note: this story includes the non-graphic deaths of children.   Many thanks for your patience throughout this story.  I'm sorry that I wasn't able to stick to a posting schedule.  This story would in no way have been possible without the help, support, and gentle correction of Cincoflex and Laura27md; thanks so much, ladies!          ********* The courtroom was chilly.  Sara sat straight on the bench and refused to shiver; there were too many eyes on her, even though she was only an observer.  She and Grissom had had to dodge reporters to get inside, and getting out was going to be worse unless they could manage to escape out the back.    But...this was important.  Hannah West’s arraignment was symbolic of more than just justice done, in Sara’s eyes; it was proof that the malevolent girl had been defeated, that the bond between Sara and Gil was too strong.    Her fingers tightened where they were laced with Grissom’s, and he squeezed back, his face calm.  He was taking the whole situation much more coolly than Sara, but then he had not really been Hannah’s focus--just her means to an end.    As they waited for Hannah’s name to come up, part of Sara’s mind was still going over lists.  The normal two weeks of severance had been laid aside, due to the touchy situation and the fact that they were both still on administrative leave, but cases had to be written up and handed over, and a thousand small details had crowded in to be handled.  Just packing up and emptying Grissom’s office had taken three hours, even with two techs to help.  She’d barely had time to think, let alone realize how much she was going to miss certain parts of her job.    Like the people now slipping into the courtroom--Warrick and Nick, Catherine, Jacquie, Greg.  Old friends, long-time colleagues--soon to be ex-colleagues.  The thought made Sara’s throat tighten a little.  She was certain that she and Gil were making the right decision, but it was not without pain.    Suck it up, Sidle, it’s not like you’ll never see them again.  Hell, they’ll probably call Grissom in for a consult every chance they get.    It was strange; she’d left San Francisco behind years before, and most of her friendships there had faded fairly quickly.  But the ones she’d formed in Vegas were different, deeper somehow.  Maybe it’s the people.  Maybe it’s age.    It doesn’t matter.    Action, reaction.  In a sense it was all physics.  Hannah’s actions had pushed Sara and Grissom into a reaction, but it was a right one.    And there she was, being led into the courtroom in a demure dress and handcuffs.  The girl’s gaze roamed over the room until she saw Sara, and then it burned; but Sara merely gazed back, untouched, and then turned her eyes to the judge.  You’re done, she repeated silently.      Like Grissom’s arraignment, this one was rapid and free of overt drama.  Hannah stood docilely and let her attorney reply “not guilty by reason of mental disease” when asked how she pled.  There were no surprises.  Hannah was remanded to the custody of a state mental hospital for further evaluation, to see if she was capable of standing trial, and it was done.    “That was easy,” Sara murmured to Grissom as they stood up to leave.  He shot her an amused glance.    “Were you expecting her to have a fit on the spot?  She’s smarter than that.”    “No...I don’t know.”  Sara rubbed the back of her neck restlessly.  “I wish I knew what she’s planning.  If they decide she’s insane, she ends up in the hospital for who knows how long; if she stands trial, she has to know she’s going to lose.  They’ll try her as an adult.”    Grissom’s mouth twisted.  “Unfortunately, nothing is guaranteed when it comes to a jury.  A competent lawyer could make a good case that her losses caused some kind of psychotic break.”    “You’re not helping.”  Sara shot him a half-humorous glare, and Grissom smiled a little.    “We can but hope.”          The wedding turned out to be surprisingly easy to set up, but then Grissom possessed both contacts and money.  And will, quiet and polite but strong all the same.  Sara, amused and touched, had let him handle the arrangements.  She didn’t really care how or where they exchanged vows, as long as they did so; but she wanted him to be happy.  And if that meant indulging his inner romantic, she would do whatever he liked.    Well, almost.  But luckily he has taste.    And he had matured in the seventies, as his choice of venues proved.  Grissom had actually booked a small executive jet to ferry their friends to the California coast and back, and reserved most of a bed-and-breakfast to house them overnight.    Sara was proud of herself; walking into the place didn’t even give her a twinge.  Though it helped that it looked nothing like the one she’d grown up in.  Instead of a big, weathered Victorian, the Brampton Inn was a cluster of cottages around a low-roofed main building, the grounds exquisitely kept.  Sara had to admit that the place was about three levels more elegant than her parents had ever managed.    The cottages overlooked a steep bluff with the sea beyond, a gorgeous venue, and Grissom produced a cousin of some sort who was a minister.  The man had a faint family resemblance, Sara thought as they shook hands, but he was at least five inches taller and forty pounds lighter, and had the calm centeredness she had come to associate with some people of faith.  Rev. Tatter was the only person to beat them to the Brampton.    Sara looked around their cottage’s bedroom as she hung her garment bag in the closet.  It was luxurious without being either overdone, cozy and clean, and the woman who had escorted them to the room had put fresh sheets on the bed herself with a smile--definitely Grissom’s touch.  “This is...really nice,” she said.    Grissom, setting his suitcase neatly on the low dresser top, nodded.  “My mother discovered it the summer before she passed away.  We’re lucky it’s off-season; it’s quite a popular venue.”    Sara kicked off her shoes and dug her toes into the deep pile of the carpet, then walked over to look out the back window.  The front of the little cottage and its wide picture window faced the ocean, but the back view was pretty as well, a wild pocket garden of gnarled trees and hardy plants.  She smiled, feeling some deep knots begin to loosen after weeks of strain.  “How soon will the others get here?”    Grissom stepped up behind her, slipping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder.  “They’re due at about three o’clock, which gives us three hours.”    Sara folded her arms over his, leaning back into his comfortable embrace.  “I’m not sure what I want more, lunch or a nap.”  Their day had started early with a plane flight and a few last-minute errands, and she was still feeling the effects of a week of hard work closing down their jobs.   But she was feeling an unaccustomed freedom to go with the expected sense of loss.  I guess I didn’t realize how draining work had gotten.  Knowing that I don’t have to go in on Monday is just...delicious.    Grissom turned his head enough to kiss her ear lightly.  “There should be some stuff in the kitchenette.  Eat a little first and then lie down?”    Sara nodded and squeezed his arms, and he released her.  He was right; the little kitchen area was stocked with fruit, cheese, rolls and crackers, and other snacks, as well as two bottles of high-end champagne chilling in the fridge, and Sara had some toast and fruit while Grissom made himself a cheese sandwich.  But when she returned from brushing her teeth, he was tying his shoes.    “Is there something left to do?” she asked, surprised, but Grissom shook his head.    “I’m just going for a walk.  I’ll be back in ninety minutes or so--you can call me if you need me.”  He stood up and kissed her again, and Sara smiled and locked the front door after him.    I’ll bet he needs some alone time, she thought as she stretched out on the bed and tucked a pillow under her head.  The sheets were crisp and smelled of fresh air, which made her suspect they had been line-dried.  It’s been busy, it’s going to be crowded--he needs the space.    It didn’t bother her.  One of the first things they’d worked out when they had begun living together was the fact that they both needed to be solitary from time to time, which was why Sara had her little den and Grissom a workshop.  Private space was important to both of them.    Sara blinked drowsily, watching the breeze stirring the trees outside the window.  She started to go over the wedding checklist in her head, but it quickly scattered and dissolved into sleep.        Voices woke her, passing the cottage--familiar voices.  Nick and Warrick were arguing about something, laughing, and Sara stretched luxuriously as they faded out of range.  Hmm.  In a couple of hours, I’ll be a married woman.  It was still an odd thought.    She rolled over and looked at the clock, and sat up, a little alarmed--it was almost four o’clock.  “Gil?”    “In here.”  Grissom appeared in the doorway of the bedroom, looking pleased.  “Good, I was about to come in and poke you.”    Standing, Sara stretched again, feeling muscles and joints popping.  “Is everyone here?”    “Right on time.”  Grissom disappeared, and Sara followed, to find him moving his toiletries kit into his smaller bag.    “What are you doing?” she asked, puzzled.    He grinned.  “It seems that the traditionalists are having the last word.”  As he spoke, a knock sounded on the front door, and Grissom raised his voice.  “Come in!”    The door opened, and Brass stuck his head in.  “Good.  Ready?  Hello, Sara.”    She waved at him, still baffled.  Grissom zipped his case shut.  “I’ve been ordered out so that the bride can prepare.”    Brass nodded.  “We’ll keep him at my place until the ceremony--bad luck to see you beforehand, you know.” He winked.    Grissom cocked a brow.  “Is that okay?” he asked, his expression telling her that he would stay if she wanted.    Sara had long considered such traditions silly at best, but Brass was grinning and Grissom’s eyes were twinkling, and she was going to be spending most of the next couple of hours getting clean and dressed anyway.  “Okay, sure.”    “See you soon, then.”  Grissom leaned in and kissed her once more, and smiled.  “I can hardly wait.”    She couldn’t stop her return smile, not that she wanted to.  Brass saved her the trouble of answering by grabbing Grissom’s arm and hustling him out.  “Come on, we don’t have all day!”  His smirk was definitely cheeky.  Grissom waved, barely managing to snatch up his bag, and then they were gone.    Bemused and snickering, Sara went to take a nice long shower.    She was halfway through drying her hair when someone started knocking on the door again.  Setting down the hair dryer and pulling her robe a little tighter, Sara went to open it, half-expecting that Grissom had escaped, but instead found Catherine, Ronnie, and Dr. Nat on her doorstep, all three dressed up and--judging from the laughter--already into the complimentary champagne.  Catherine pushed in past her, and Sara perforce stepped back as the others followed.  “Uh, did I miss a memo?”    Natalie shrugged.  “We’re here to help you get ready, since you don’t have any relatives on tap.”    That wasn’t quite true--Sara’s mother had a cottage to herself--but Sara didn’t expect to actually see her until the ceremony.  “Um, I don’t need any help.”    Catherine turned from her survey of the cottage and gave Sara a challenging, but not angry, stare.  “So?”    “We can go if you want,” Ronnie put in nervously, obviously a little out of her depth with the two older women, but she lifted her chin when Catherine glared at her, and glared right back.    Sara thought rapidly.  She didn’t need help, and had been expecting some quiet time of her own, but banishing them would hurt their feelings, and...and...   It sounds like fun, she realized, surprised at herself.  “Well, when you put it like that...”    All three women grinned, and Sara found herself grinning back.  “Great!”  Catherine clapped her hands together.  “Let’s get started, girls.”    In short order Sara found herself seated in the desk chair, a glass of champagne in her hand, with Natalie wielding a hairbrush and the dryer.  The results were good, Sara had to admit when the coroner was done; Natalie had made the most of Sara’s neglect in getting a haircut, and her curls were neither out of control nor too tame.  Barrettes held the hair back from her face, which Natalie pointed out would be a necessity in the shore breeze.    The next step was a manicure, and again Sara submitted, this time to Ronnie’s skills.  Normally she wouldn’t bother at all, but it was easier to agree--and she did harbor a secret desire to look her best, to please Gil.  After all, we only get one of these.  And it’s important to him.    It was also nice, if foreign, to be the center of so much positive attention.  Sara figured that much more than an hour or two would drive her straight up the wall, but for the moment it was still fun.    She seized a relatively quiet moment when her nails were drying and Nat and Ronnie were getting more champagne to look up at Catherine.  “Are you still pissed?”    Catherine pursed her lips, resting one hand on her hip.  Her outfit of matching skirt and jacket in a pale green was very pretty; she had eschewed her usual low-cut blouse and looked quite elegant.  “No,” she said at last.  “I hate to give up a grudge.  But Gil is so--happy.”    She blinked twice, her gaze softening.  “I’ve never seen him this happy, you know,” she added.    Sara swallowed the lump Catherine’s words brought.  “Thanks.”  She glanced away.  “I’ll--try to keep him that way.”    Awkwardly, Catherine patted her shoulder.  “I know you will.  That’s why I’m not mad any more.”    The moment shattered as the others came in with their drinks, and Sara was grateful for the interruption; but also for clearing the air.  Catherine meant a lot to Grissom, and while Sara wasn’t exactly fond of her, the two women had a history together.  It was good to be on pleasant terms again.    “How much time do we have?” Nat asked briskly, topping up Sara’s glass.    Ronnie glanced at her watch.  “About forty minutes, I guess.”    Nat glanced across at Catherine.  “Makeup first, or dress?”    “Makeup,” Catherine said firmly.  “Where’s your bag, Sara?”    Sara rose, leaving her glass behind.  “I can do my own makeup,” she answered, equally firmly.    Catherine shot her a grin.  “Sure you can.  But the bride’s supposed to be pampered.  Indulge me.”    Suppressing an eye-roll, Sara found her makeup bag and let Catherine have her way.  And for all the chatter that went on during application between the four women, the tease and snark and stories of wedding disasters, Sara had to admit at the end that Catherine had done a good job.  She’d kept a light hand, merely enhancing Sara’s features and pointing out cheerfully that it would look better in the inevitable photos.    “All right, let’s see the dress,” Natalie demanded as Catherine capped Sara’s lipstick and zipped up the bag.    Sara smirked at her.  “What dress?  Since when do I wear dresses?”    The disbelief and then slow horror on the faces of both Catherine and Nat delighted Sara, but Ronnie clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes dancing.  Amused that the younger woman knew her that well, Sara relented.  “All right, all right.  Give me a minute.”    She headed for the bedroom.  “Don’t you need any help?” Catherine called after her.    “Nope.”  Sara closed the door on her would-be assistants, knowing that they were now puzzling over a wedding dress that didn’t require aid to don.    She zipped open the garment bag and pulled out its lone contents, laying it out on the bed to wait while she shrugged out of her robe and put on lingerie.  Choosing a dress had cost Sara no little thought, her natural inclinations of practicality conflicting with a secret, feminine desire to dazzle her closet romantic of a bridegroom.  But eventually she’d reached, or rather found, a compromise.    I love the Internet.    The result of her search was a slim dress in actual bridal white, with lacy half-sleeves and a multitude of tiny buttons down the equally lacy bodice.  The skirt reached all the way to her ankles, and when Sara had eased it on over her head, the image in the mirror hung on the closet door surprised her.    She had tried it on once when it had arrived, of course, to make sure that it fit.  But that hasty check, cut short by Grissom’s arrival home from an errand, had given her only a glimpse.  Now she saw herself tall and graceful, her cheeks flushed, her eyes lit with a strange anticipation, apprehensive and delighted at once.    Sara turned to look at the back, the filmy outer layer of the skirt floating just a bit, and found herself smiling.  She slipped her feet into her chosen sandals and opened the door.    As she’d expected, all three of the others were watching.  Eyes widened, and Catherine nodded slowly, punctuated by Nat’s approving “Wow!”  Ronnie just grinned.     “Yeah, okay, that’ll do,” Catherine said, impressed.    “Where did you find that?” Nat asked, stepping forward to tweak Sara’s right sleeve.    “Online,” Sara replied, amused and gratified both by their reactions.    “Send me the site?” Ronnie asked, admiring.  “And turn around?”    Obligingly Sara rotated so they could see the back of the dress, then raised her brows.  “Are we ready?”    “More to the point, are the men ready?” Nat said dryly.    Ronnie snickered.  “I’ll check.”    Catherine walked slowly around Sara.  “Very nice,” she approved.  “But aren’t you going to wear a necklace or something?”    Sara shook her head.  “I don’t have anything that goes with it.”  She lifted her left hand, where her engagement ring was a now-familiar weight.  “This is all I need.”    Catherine shrugged amiably, and fished a compact out of her handbag.  Nat winked at Sara and asked her about the Website where she’d found the dress.    Ronnie returned just as Catherine finished touching up her own makeup.  “They’re all waiting, and Dr. Grissom’s doing that thing with his hand.”    Fingers rubbing against his palm--that often betokened deep concentration, but in this case Sara suspected impatience.  “Let’s go then,” she said, a matching edgy joy swelling from somewhere deep inside her.    At six o’clock, the sun was just above the sea’s horizon, dramatic and gorgeous and as blatantly romantic as any heart could wish.  Grissom and Brass were standing with Rev. Tatter near the edge of the low bluff.  The rest of their guests formed a small, well-dressed crowd around them--Nick and Warrick and Greg, a gaggle of techs, Doc Robbins with his wife and David with his wife; Vartann with his girlfriend, Dr. Reyes, two men Sara didn’t recognize but that she presumed were with Nat and Ronnie; and Sara’s mother, standing a little apart but smiling.    She took them all in with a CSI’s practiced, automatic glance, but it was Grissom she focused on, his body very still and his eyes lambent as they fixed on her.    Her escort merged into the murmuring group.  Grissom’s hands slipped into her own reaching ones, warm and solid and absolutely right, and they turned to face the minister.    Nothing elaborate or stilted.  Just a reminder of the meaning and weight of a marriage, an acknowledgment of intention, an exchange of solemn, heartfelt promises.  Brass handed Grissom a ring; Warrick held one for Sara.  Under the setting sun they declared their love, and she felt it take hold, firm and undeniable.  We belong to each other.  Nothing will ever be the same.    Good.    Then the minister was blessing them, and Grissom grinned at her, all alight.  Sara kissed him hard, tasting love and the future on his lips, and heard their friends clapping and cheering.  And at that moment, knew she was perfectly happy.    Only Catherine had the chutzpah to hug Grissom, but Nick and Warrick and Greg were not so shy with Sara, and even Ronnie dared.  Dizzy with joy, her heart so light she felt immune to gravity, Sara returned the embraces.  It was good to have friends to share the moment.    Laura Sidle did not either hug her or kiss her cheek, but she did take Sara’s hand for a moment, her worn face creased but softened with pleasure.  “I’m glad you’re happy,” she murmured, and Sara smiled back.  It was far too late for a parent-child relationship, but they had begun to forge one between two adults.    Then Grissom’s arm was sliding around Sara’s waist.  “Party time,” he said cheerfully, nodding to Mrs. Sidle.  “Shall we?”    Sara grinned at her mother, and helped Grissom urge their guests towards the large gazebo that overlooked the bluff a few yards away.  The inn’s staff had set up an al fresco supper, and all that remained was to remove the covers and pick up the plates.  Soon everyone was eating and chattering, with Brass volunteering to tend the bar and Nick and Greg showing off the photos they’d taken of the ceremony.    “E-mail me the copies,” Grissom ordered, looking over Nick’s shoulder.  “Those are good.”    “Yeah, Gil, why didn’t you have a professional photographer?” Catherine asked, nibbling on a canapé.    Grissom chuckled.  “We did.  Two of them.”  He jerked his head at his former CSIs, making them smile a little sheepishly.    Sara snickered as Catherine rolled her eyes, and moved on, snagging a plate for herself and filling it up with goodies.  Making the decision to leave the lab had had a profound effect on her appetite, much to Grissom’s delight and her own mild dismay.  But this was a celebration, and Sara intended to enjoy it to the fullest.  It’s not like we’re planning on doing this again, after all.    Grissom had the right of it, she thought as the evening deepened into a breezy, delicious night.  Informal was the way to go, and everyone was getting along just fine, laughing and chatting and trading stories.  The men looked very handsome in their various versions of semi-formal wear, and the women had made full use of an excuse to dress up.  Sara mingled, gathering introductions to Ronnie’s boyfriend and Dr. Nat’s cherubic blond husband, who beamed charmingly at her and reeked of sunscreen.    It was odd, some part of her was thinking; she didn’t usually like parties, wedding or otherwise, but this didn’t feel like one.  Maybe because she and Gil were the focus; maybe just because everyone there was a friend.  Sure, work had brought most of them together, but they had invited people that they wanted to see--even Hodges, making some sort of pompous speech at Grissom, who for once looked more amused than annoyed.    Nevertheless, Sara went over to rescue her bridegroom, stopping by the now-abandoned bar to pick up a flute of champagne.  Brass was off talking to Nat’s husband, who was a retired cop--they were probably talking shop, Sara thought as she handed Grissom the glass.  He smiled at her, reaching down to link his fingers with hers, and Hodges trailed off, his expression going soft and almost sweet as he looked at them.  Full of goodwill--in no small part because she wouldn’t have to work with the tech again--Sara winked at him.  “I need to borrow Gil, sorry.”    Hodges blushed.  “Of--of course.  Sara, I just want to say, I’m very happy for you.”  He held out a hand.  “For both of you.”    Sara returned the handshake, and on impulse, leaned over and kissed his cheek.  “Thanks, David.  I’m glad you could make it.”    His face went from pink to scarlet, and he seemed to lose the ability to speak altogether.  Grissom chuckled again and steered her gently away.  “He’ll be boasting about that for months, you know.”    Sara shrugged.  “I won’t have to listen, so I really don’t care.  Speaking of, you did invite Ecklie, didn’t you?”    Grissom sighed.  “He sent his regrets, politely worded.  I left it at that.”    Sara nodded and led him out of the gazebo to the edge of the bluff so they could look out over the water.  Neither of them called Ecklie a friend, exactly, but he had been very decent throughout the Hannah West case and they had both felt it would be rude to leave him out.  Sara was almost sorry he hadn’t come.    There was no moon, but the stars were brilliant, and the water reflected their light in a faint sheen.  It took a while for their eyes to adjust, but eventually the fairy beauty became visible spread out before them.  Sara snuggled into Grissom’s embrace, grateful for his body heat; the breeze was stronger as it came up from the ocean.    They stood for a while, content.  The laughter and conversation from the gazebo was still audible, but not enough to make out words, and Sara felt as though they were separate from everyone else--in their own peaceful space.  She almost wanted to hold the moment forever, except--    There will be other moments.  Some even better.    Finally Grissom stirred, turning his head to breathe against her skin.  “What do you say to letting them carry on without us?”    Sara nuzzled his throat and laid a kiss just below his ear, making his arm tighten.  “I think that’s a great idea.”    “I’m glad you agree.”  Grissom took her hand once more, and they detoured around the gazebo.  Sara giggled as they slid along, grateful that Grissom had good night vision.    “How long do you think it will take them to notice we’re gone?”    Grissom snickered.  “I imagine Jim has figured it out already.  As for the rest of them, depends on how much they’ve had to drink.”    Sara pulled him to a halt so she could kiss him, a deep slow kiss full of a far more sensual promise than their wedding kiss.  “The longer the better,” she whispered against his mouth.    Grissom’s answering sound was a blend of amusement and frustration.  He kissed her back, hard and fast.  “I’m going to hold you to that very shortly.”    “Come on, then.”  Sara slipped out of his grasp and headed for their cottage, Grissom catching up within three strides and tugging her to the left.    “This way.”  He grinned when she started to protest.  “I had the staff switch us to the end of the row.  Or do you want a charivari?”    Sara laughed.  “Well, when you put it that way...”    Their new cottage was larger than the previous one, with a huge bed and a tub big enough for two.  But Sara saw only her bridegroom, who locked the door behind them and turned to her, his eyes as brilliant as when they’d said their vows.  “Sara...”    My husband.    Wow.    Smiling, Sara went to him.        Catherine looked fairly relaxed for someone with a hangover, Sara thought the next morning as the older woman made her way into the breakfast room in the main building.  But as soon as she spotted them, Catherine stopped dead and glared.  “There you are!”    Grissom, sipping from his coffee cup, raised a brow.  “Where else should we be?”    Catherine snorted, and stalked over to them.  “You know damn well what I’m talking about, Gil.  Sneaking out of your own wedding party!  Nobody could find you.”    “And your point is?” Sara asked with a grin, getting the glare transferred to her.    But after a few seconds Catherine broke into a reluctant smile.  “I’d have done the same thing if I’d been that smart when I got married.  What’s for breakfast?”    She wandered over towards the beverage table, and Sara exchanged an amused glance with Grissom.  Just how much champagne did she have?    The rest of their guests eventually trailed in, looking sleepy or refreshed as was their habits, laughing and complaining.  There were more than a few salacious comments about Sara’s and Grissom’s disappearance the night before, but Sara let them pass, buoyed by joy.    And an endorphin high.  Mmmm.  For someone who hadn’t gotten much sleep, Grissom was looking just fine, Sara thought.  She might have taken mild offense at his understated smugness, except that she felt far too smug herself to cast any stones.    It was late enough to be brunch, really, and they ate and talked and lingered for more than an hour before the guests had to go and pack.  Ronnie, who claimed to have packed up as she got dressed, hung back.    “What are you going to do?” she asked, looking a little wistful.    Sara looked at her.  A young woman, a good CSI with the promise of becoming an outstanding one--Greg had been right about her intelligence.  “Sleep in for once.”    Ronnie shook her head.  “That’s not what I meant.”    I know.  But where even Greg feared to tread, Ronnie knew no better--her experience of Grissom was limited.    The man in question reached over and took Sara’s hand.  “Our plans are open-ended,” he said equably.    “I’m thinking of finishing my PhD,” Sara added, not enumerating their various ideas--travel, teaching, moving to a different city.  That last was almost a certainty, given their current notoriety.    “We can’t go far until the West case finishes its trial phase,” Grissom noted.  “Sara will almost certainly be called as a witness.”    And what a tangled mess that will be, Sara thought without pleasure.  But it was in the future, and didn’t deserve more than a passing thought before they got back to Vegas.  Hannah, like Natalie, belonged in the past, and Sara was determined to leave her there.    Ronnie sighed.  “I’ll miss you.”    Touched, Sara reached over to pat her arm.  “I’ll miss you too, Ron.  But you know, you don’t need a mentor any more.”    The CSI blushed.  “Really?”    “Really.”  The West case and all its difficulties had matured Ronnie, Sara thought; she had handled its complexities well, proving herself under intense pressure.  “And you can tell Dr. Reyes I said so.”    She’d rendered Ronnie speechless, Sara realized with amusement, and made a mental note to mention her opinion to Reyes before everyone left for the airport.  I suspect Greg’s going to stay on Swing anyway, he likes being the senior CSI.  Ronnie’ll do fine.            When the last hugs and congratulations had been exchanged and the airport shuttle waved off, Sara and Grissom climbed down the rather steep and rocky path to the beach at the base of the cliff.  It was a narrow space that all but vanished at high tide, but the sand was firm underfoot, and Sara felt almost as though they were miles away from any other human being.  Between the ocean and the wall of craggy rock, there was nothing to show of civilization but their footprints--not even any trash.    She poked through a couple of tidepools, taking in the array of colors with delight, while Grissom wandered up to the cliff and began studying tiny moving dots on the rock that he said were mites.    After a while, Sara started feeling oddly restless, and she left her tidepool and walked down to where the waves were teasing the sand with low, creamy combers.  She folded her arms and looked out at the glittering sea, feeling the constant breeze ruffling her hair and the sun warming her cooled skin.  On impulse she bent down and pulled off her sandals, tossing them back towards the drier sand, and waded into the water.  It was cold and swift and alive, and Sara braced her heels against the rush as the water ran back down the beach, sucking the sand from beneath her feet.    I’m just not used to having nothing to do, she realized.  Even on leave she’d had plenty to worry about, if not do, but now Hannah was no longer an immediate threat, and Sara wouldn’t be returning to work on Monday.    It was more than that, even.  She had worked as long as she could remember, starting with chores as a kid and progressing through petsitting, minimum-wage jobs, homework, and school.  In fact, she had never really stopped working until her leave of absence the year before.    For a moment, a strange sense of panic bubbled up beneath her ribcage.  How can we possibly do this?  Neither of us knows how to do anything but work--    Then a strong arm slipped around her waist, and she looked up to find Grissom staring down at his own wide feet, planted in the surf next to her own.  His pants legs were rolled up to just below his knees, and he looked silly and adorable and completely sexy all at once.  “I was thinking maybe we could head down the coast tomorrow,” he said affably, wriggling his toes as the wave drained away.  “The weather’s supposed to be terrific, and I promised to show you Mom’s old gallery.”    And just like that, her anxiety vanished, popped like a bubble.  We’ll be fine.  No matter what we do or where we go, we have each other, and...that’s enough.       Lifting a hand to Grissom’s cheek, Sara kissed him, a long soft kiss that felt like home, because that was what he was.  “Sounds good to me.”    He laughed contentedly, and pulled her closer.    Chapter 1     Chapter 2     Chapter 3    Chapter 4    Chapter 5    Chapter 6     Chapter 7     Chapter 8     Chapter 9     Chapter 10   Chapter 11     Chapter 12     Chapter 13     Chapter 14     Chapter 15     Chapter 16     Chapter 17     Chapter 18     Epilogue   CSI Home Feedback