A/N: Since the CSI finale, we've had a developing-follow-up story. Here's the first chapter.

After All

Chapter 1

Well, here we are again
I guess it must be fate
We've tried it on our own
But deep inside we've known
We'd be back to set things straight…(with thanks to Cher!)

Forty-four hours, nearly two days. Suddenly, the lab seemed quiet.

Sara Sidle was so accustomed to the working sounds of the lab that she was able to block the murmuring voices, the clicks and dings of machines, the shuffle and whisper of footsteps to hear nothing but her own thoughts.

At last, she was alone. Finally, she could relinquish the hold on her emotions she had managed to maintain since Ecklie had asked for the phone number of her ex-husband. The sudden release flowed through her body, and for a moment, the tightness in her chest lightened. Taking a deep breath, she could believe the case had been like any other.

But then her thoughts returned and the anguish, the admission, twice, that she still loves Gil Grissom, flooded her entire body. Her hands moved to the stack of papers on the desk. For a while—perhaps as long as several hours—she had stepped back in time to the once familiarity of working by his side.

She almost smiled, but a smile would have brought tears; it was the bees, she thought. Finding him talking to bees had brought a smile to her face and then he had said how he missed working with her. They had set up the scent bees in a peaceful meadow after one phone call had provided what was needed and patiently he had showed her what to do—let her paint the bees, explained how the trained bees worked and detected human scent. For the first time since Grissom's arrival—no, for the first time in years—she'd felt alive, waking her senses as only he could do.

She knew he had wanted to talk; she had felt his eyes, heard the slight sounds of his restless movements. Managing to blink away the sudden wetness in her eyes before the first bee had returned, she deliberately kept her face away from his. It was as if he had never been gone—but she knew he'd leave again. She had been replaced in his life—by solitary life on a boat, by a woman who had moved from 'friend' to—Sara didn't want to think of Heather Kessler as her ex-husband's lover but what else could the woman be for him to return to Vegas to convince others of her innocence.

Sighing, her hand came to her face; fingers wiped across her eyes. In that moment, she remembered.

"Maybe we should get married" had surprised her. It had been another beautiful day, dressed in similar protective garb, studying colony collapse when she'd found him. She'd freaked at his proposal; they had never talked about marriage.

Now, she turned her hand and looked at her palm remembering how he'd taken her hand to remove the stinger.

Another deep breath as she closed her eyes to memories.

He was gone; she'd known he had returned to Vegas to help Heather Kessler. Help or protect her. Sara would never understand the friendship between the two but obviously, their friendship had moved to another level.

Once, she knew he had loved her—it was her fault they had divorced. She'd returned to Vegas—the dog, the house, both mothers needed one of them near; the job—the money, the insurance, the security of it had claimed her time—and he had found another life—going from one project to another until one day, he had said she needed to be free—she'd be better off without him.

Tears did well in her eyes at the remembrance of those words. There was no explanation, no clarification—nothing when the official papers arrived with his signature. She had known it was her fault. If she had gone with him, if she'd met him in those far-away places, if she had been a better person—if—if—if—a thousand 'ifs' and all went back to the pattern of her life.

Her parents drank too much and fought too often to love her; her father did not love her enough to keep her safe. Her mother had killed her father, not because of love or protection but in a drunken rage. As a child, Sara remembered thinking no one loved her because her mother was a murderer; as an adult, she had rebuffed others, learned to live a private life, remaining a loner until she had met Gil Grissom.

Her world had changed when, for no apparent reason, the man at the lecture had turned to her for a question and, when their eyes connected, there was—if not a lightning bolt—at least a rumble of thunder as he smiled at her. Years later, he had admitted she had an attraction he could not name at the time; nine years passed before he said it was love. Loved her from their first meeting—she had laughed, so much in love with him that he could have said anything and she would have loved him even more.

Now, no longer married to the man she loved, who by all indications no longer loved her, she was married to her job—a job she had taken reluctantly but with the support of those who had been friends and co-workers for fifteen years. She had the office; her predecessor's posters were still hanging on the wall.

Paperwork waited her review and signature. She sighed again; reaching for a pen, she looked up as Lindsay Willows entered the office. A few minutes later, after opening the envelope, she left the desk in search of a video player.

A/N: Thanks for reading! A review, a comment, or a few words gives us encouragement to get the next chapter ready!