Rating: Teen
Disclaimer: I don't own CSI or any of its characters. I am making no money. Seriously.
Spoilers: Post One to Go
Thanks: Smacky graciously betaed this for me on very short notice; she really is one of a kind. She betaed, but I messed with it afterwards, so all mistakes are mine and mine alone. I alos want to thank Kristen Elizabeth for the read thru on the first section.

This is a birthday present for losingintranslation. Happy Birthday, Jenn! You are a remarkable woman with so many talents and the energy to use them all. You are a beautiful soul. This story is not as good as you deserve, but I hope you enjoy anyway.

Despite the hum of printers, ringing of phones and various conversations floating in the air of the police station, Catherine could still hear the clack of her heels as she walked quickly down the hall. It was always noisy, always warm here, unlike the lab that always had its own stillness and was always cold because of the equipment.

When she approached his office door, she saw an envelope identical to the one she held in her hand resting on the desk in front of Jim Brass. Smiling widely, she leaned a shoulder against the door jamb and watched as he worried his lower lip between his thumb and forefinger studying the words with a look of intense concentration.

"I see you got one, too." She held the envelope up.

"Hey." Raising his head, he gave her a look of disbelief. "Yeah." He motioned her into his office, indicating she should sit. "I thought it was a joke at first."

She sat and flipped her hair off her shoulder. "Pretty pricey for a joke." She removed the contents of her envelope and fanned herself with the heavy paper. "So, you had no idea about this?"

"You're kiddin', right? You'd find out about something like this before I would." He held both of his hands up in a gesture that was both defensive and helpless. "No offense, but this isn't something that falls on the guy radar, especially when one of the guys is Grissom." He touched the corner of the card and she had the impression he was wishing for a pair of gloves. "Are you sure it's not a joke?"

Shaking her head, she continued to fan herself. "Please. Gil's jokes run to bad puns, not high quality paper products. And this is so out of character for Sara I can't see her joking about it."

He studied the envelope intently. "This is pretty fancy. Looks like they went all out." He picked up the item in question carefully by the edges as though trying to prevent transfer or print contamination. "What is this? Parchment?"

She huffed out a breath that sounded somewhere between disgust and a raspberry. "That, my friend, is a heavy weight linen cardstock. It runs circles around parchment and kicks regular cardstock's ass."

Tilting back in his chair, he held the envelope up to the light as though the information he might obtain were of vital importance, but his voice was laden with his ever present sarcasm. "I suppose next you're going to tell me this isn't beige, either."

"Please. Beige wouldn't be allowed in the same room with this paper. This is ecru."

Sagely, he nodded. "Got it. Ecru." His forehead wrinkled. "Isn't that one of those big Australian birds?"

"Oh, you're funny." She cocked an eyebrow at him.

Leaning back, he shook his head. "I'm happy for them; I guess I just never expected anything so…traditional out of the two of them."

Nodding, Catherine paused in her fanning and studied the paper in her hand. "I know, but the more I think about it…for all of his open mindedness, Grissom is pretty traditional. Maybe not because he believes in all of it, but for the symbolism…kind of as a touchstone."

Brass considered her words for a moment. "Yeah, that makes sense. But what about Sara?"

"Could be any number of reasons…she didn't have a traditional upbringing, so maybe part of her just wants what she's never had." She shrugged. "Or maybe she's just doing it to make Gil happy."

"Maybe she lost a bet." He ran his thick finger over the words before him.

Catherine snorted. "Maybe."

The noise from the hall filtered into his office filling the silence between them; in the distance, a young man's voice could be heard shouting, "I didn't do it, man. You got the wrong guy!"

Finally, Catherine spoke crisply. "Nicky and Greg both got one, too. They're game if we are. I've already got a call into Ecklie and he put the two swing subs on stand by. Is your passport current?" She tapped the ecru linen on his desk. "Puerto Viejo de Sarapiqui is the closest town to the research station; it's about an hour and a half from the airport in San Jose. Flights are not unreasonable, especially at this time of year. We can catch a bus or rent a van in San Jose."

A slow, sly grin spread across his face. "Just show up at the church?"

The smile she gave him in return was extremely self-satisfied. "Isn't that exactly what Grissom would do?" She smiled wider when he laughed. "So, what do you say?"

He didn't say anything, instead, in a surprisingly clear voice, completely in tune, he sang, "Do you know the way to San Jose?"

***

The church was small but beautiful, full of light and gleaming wood; the aroma of the altar's flowers and linseed oil perfumed the air of the sanctuary. Catherine had built extra time into their itinerary to account for any travel delays, but there were none. As a matter of fact, the only downside to the entire trip had been Greg's nearly continual grousing about exchanging e-mails with Sara at least once a week since the first time she had left Vegas and her failure to even once mention such a life changing event.

Finally, Nick told him to get over it. "It's Grissom and Sara, man. We're lucky we got the invite and didn't find out until twenty years down the road."

Their flight had landed in San Jose just before sunrise the day before and they checked in to the Selva Verde Lodge just outside the town of Puerto Viejo at lunch time. They spent the rest of the day and night lazing by the pool and relaxing in the bar, adjusting to the time difference and fending off jet lag. They had all awakened late but were still able to enjoy a leisurely brunch before heading in to town for the ceremony.

They waited at a café just across the street until they were sure Grissom and Sara were in the church. Then, with more stealth than they had ever used to approach any potentially dangerous situation, they slipped into the surprisingly full church. One by one they slid into a pew on the opposite side of the sanctuary from where a smiling Gil Grissom was speaking to a brown skinned, round and laughing clergyman.

Brass observed his friend carefully. He looked happy and relaxed; and though there was more gray in his hair and beard than there had been eighteen months prior, he looked a decade younger. The seemingly permanent weight that had settled on the scientist had disappeared and a man full of light and life stood at the front of the church. He had glimpsed moments of satisfaction and levity from Grissom, but nothing like the unprecedented joy the man was radiating at the moment. This was good, Brass decided. Very, very good.

He was brought out of his reverie as the celebrant stood in front of the altar and spread his arms, offering a prayer and a blessing to the assembly. When the "amen" bounced off the walls, the man, beaming, addressed the congregation in heavily accented English. "Brothers and sisters, I welcome you here today for this joyous occasion. Since Gil and Sara joined our community almost two years ago I believe we have all come to expect the unprecedented from them."

A laugh ran through the assembled guests that made Brass wonder at just how unprecedented the two scientists' previous activities had been. "This happy day will be no exception," the celebrant continued, smiling. "And while this ceremony may be a bit more casual, a bit less ritualized, than those you have seen before, it is nonetheless, just as serious a commitment to God and to themselves."

Clasping his hands in front of him, he turned to the first pew. "Gil and Sara, please come forward." There was the rustling of material as Sara and Grissom rose and approached the priest. Brass had yet to see Sara's face but she, too, appeared healthier. Her hair was longer than he had ever seen it, held into place at the base of her neck with a clip shaped like a jeweled butterfly. He craned his neck to try to see more, but as they faced the front of the church, it was futile.

As though he sensed the unspoken desire, the clergy man addressed the couple, "Would you turn and face the congregation, please?" And as they did so, he spoke again, "Gil and Sara, tell the church, what name do you give your child?"

At the celebrant's words, Sara looked up from the bundle in her arms and straight into Jim Brass's eyes; then her gaze moved to Catherine, touched Nick and finally landed on Greg. Instantly, tears filled her eyes. Grissom followed her gaze and he smiled wider than any of them had ever seen as he answered, "Jennifer June."

***

Greg took another pull from the sweating bottle in his hand. He had been told by one of the biologists from the research station that it was a local brew; it had a medium body but was refreshing. He pondered the logistics of takinging a case back to Nevada with him, weighing his appreciation for the beverage against the hassle of transporting it and taking it through customs.

The after party was held at the same café where the three CSIs and the detective had waited before the ceremony. The Grissoms were obviously well known by the owners and staff, who vied with the other guests (members of the research team, locals as well as several students) for a chance to hold the youngest member of the family. Cerveza and guaro were flowing freely and there was a mix of traditional Costa Rican fare, including both fried and baked plantains, along with a variety of fruits (papaya, mango, melons and pineapple) and more desserts than Greg could count.

His exchange with the little family had been limited so far, though Sara had made a beeline for their small group as soon as the ceremony had been over. She had hugged all four of them enthusiastically, babbling out her surprise and joy at their presence. But she was soon overtaken by other guests who offered congratulations and cooed over the baby. Grissom, too, had been more effusive about their presence than Greg imagined he was capable of. But with the large crowd he had to play host and had not been able to spend a lot of time with any of the group from Las Vegas at first.

Greg was nursing his fourth beer during the second hour of the party when someone sat down at his table. "Greg." Grissom's voice was deep and serious, much like it had been back in Vegas when Greg was about to be lectured by his boss; the effect was ruined, however, by the ruffle clad baby Grissom had nestled against his shoulder.

Greg had to grin at the sight. "Grissom." He indicated the baby with the bottle in his hand. "I'm no expert, but I'm going to guess…two months?"

The baby in question whimpered briefly, moved her head into the crook of her father's neck, then settled when he murmured a soft and soothing "Shhh," to her. Looking back to his companion, he shook his head. "Three and a half. But she was premature and she's still on the small side."

The younger man started, his eyes wide. "Oh, wow…I…"

"It's all right, Greg, I know." He adjusted his daughter slightly and reached for his own bottle of beer. "We know it was…an unexpected way to find out, not that Sara and I were going to be parents, but that we were."

"Yeah, it was." Greg took another sip and gathered his courage. "I know you like your privacy Grissom, but, seriously? Sara is my friend…one of my best friends and that something this major could be going on in her life and me not know about it?" He shrugged, assuming the rest of his point was obvious.

Grissom sighed. "Don't be upset with her, Greg."

Grissom's eyes found Sara across the room, standing between Brass and Nick, Catherine leaning on the table across from her. She was laughing at whatever the detective was saying to her along with her other two companions. "We were…well, we were caught by surprise. By the time she had the pregnancy confirmed, she was having trouble."

As Greg started to speak, the older man shook his head. "It was just really hard on her Greg. She had multiple problems; she spent the last month of her pregnancy on bed rest in the hospital in San Jose." He swallowed heavily. "I almost lost them both." Briefly, he leaned his cheek against the baby's tiny head. "I know she's shared part of her past with you and you know a lot of what she went through in Vegas. I think—" He shook his head again. "No, I know, she's been happy here, with our life here. But, I think she was afraid to let herself believe in it too much. And then to be on the verge of having more than she ever hoped for and in danger of losing it at the same time?"

Greg heaved a sigh. "I get it." He reached out and touched the baby's back. "I just miss her, you know?" He dropped his gaze. "I actually miss both of you."

Grissom smiled, "We miss you, too, Greg; all of you." He nodded towards Sara, "But I happen to know for a fact, she misses you most of all."

Greg smiled in return. "I guess I should go talk to her, huh?"

"I think she would like that very much. Catherine says you're here until Tuesday, so, you don't have to say everything today. We've got time." He took a drink from his bottle as Greg stood.

The younger man paused. "Hey, Grissom?"

"Yes, Greg?"

"It looks good on you."

Grissom's eyebrows climbed into his forehead. "What?"

Greg inclined his head toward Sara, then back to the baby. "Happiness."