Disclaimer: The characters and world of CSI do not belong to me, nor do a majority of the dialog. I've simply borrowed them for the time being and intend to return them intact and no worse for the wear.

I Still Love You

It had been nearly a year since she'd left Vegas, nearly a year with only a few letters here and there to her friends…her family. She'd banished the ghosts, cleaned the skeletons from the closet, yet something was missing. It took her awhile, but she finally found the missing element.

Sitting on the edge of her motel bed, she dialed the old, familiar number. It was late, he'd be at work still, but if she really wanted to talk to him, she'd have called his cell, not the house. It rang three ties before the answering machine picked up.

"If you're calling about the sofa, I sold it. If this is Tuesday night I'm off and ignoring the phone. If you're selling something, you're wasting your time. Anyone else, wait for the tone, you know what to do…and, if this is Sara, I still love you…"

The phone bounced across the cheep comforter. She stared at it as though it had turned into a venomous snake. That was the last thing she expected. He could have moved on…he should have moved on.

Three nights later, she got up the nerve to call again. This time she had a plan, this time she wouldn't hang up.

"If it's Friday night, I'm still working, and first thing Saturday I'll be out of town teaching a seminar and will be gone all weekend long, but I'll call you back when I get home on Sunday…and, if this is Sara, I still love you."

"702-555-2012." Her number, that's all she left in her message, unable to say more, and praying he'd call back.

When Sunday finally came, she waited anxiously, checking her phone every five minutes to make sure it was charged and the ringer on.

Exhausted from the weekend seminar, Gil Grissom was surprised to see the light of his answering machine blinking. Hardly anyone except telemarketers called his house phone. Expecting a scam saying, he'd won a Tropical vacation, he ignored it and put away his luggage.

Caught up from his weekend away, Grissom couldn't ignore the insistent blinking any longer.

"702-555-2012." The number was unfamiliar, but that voice, that voice was like a ghost from his past. He played it again, certain this time that his mind was playing tricks on him; she hadn't called him in nearly a year. Playing it a third time, he quickly punched the number into his cell. It rang three times and his hart nearly stopped when he heard her voice.

"If you're calling about my heart, it's still yours, I should have listened to it a little more, then it wouldn't have taken me so long to know where I belong. And by the way Gil, this is no machine you're talking to…can's you tell, this is Sara, and I still love you."