A/N: All characters used in this story are the creation of Anthony Zuiker et al., and are "owned" by CBS. All else is speculation :) In order to avoid brushes with plagiarism, I have notated with in this story to denote where quotes used are not my own invention but came directly from the script from the episode.

I have a bevy of author's notes. Forgive me.

A/N: This story is my first submission to I welcome your reviews. I called myself "GSR Edge" because I feel I have a unique understanding of the relationship that is Grissom/Sara Romance. (I tried using my normal s/n Azure Edge, but that name is already taken. :) There are some instances in this story where I used some nonfictional events between myself and...someone else.. to illustrate what Grissom or Sidle is thinking or feeling. In fact, nonfiction befitted the fiction of this story and the nonfiction screenplay with Grissom and Sara quite seemlessly. I have no doubt in my mind that what happened between me and Charles was not at all dissimilar to what happened to Grissom and Sara..

A/N: I do not know the month of birth of Sara Sidle (I tried to find out, but to no avail). I do, however, know that Grissom's is in August. I also do not know either of their middle names, so I took the liberty of using my middle name and Charles'..

A/N: Warrick and Tina aren't going to last. It isn't right. He did it in haste, not in love.

A/N: While it fit the story, I do not truly believe that, in CSI, Grissom and Heather were only attracted physically. Actually, I think that Anthony Zuiker and company made a more spiritual and psychological "bond" out of GHR than GSR. Grissom's relationship with Heather vs. Sara presented me with a unique challenge.

A/N: I love with all my heart the movie Shadowlands, starring Anthony Hopkins and Debra Winger. I remembered seeing the commercials for it when I was 13 years old and I really wanted to see it really bad. But I didn't see it until I was 19, and it was truly the most intellectual and real love story I've ever seen.

for Charles

"Your fan club is here."

It took him a few seconds to register it, but Jim turned his head to look over to see Cath, Sara, Warrick, Nick, Sofia, and Greg there, gazing hopefully through the observation glass. Even Doc Robbins was there. As weak as he was, he wanted to wave to them, but all he could do was meekly raise a finger. Must be the meds, he thought.

He was just happy to be alive, and they were happy for him. They turned to each other in exalted relief, their faces wreathed in smiles. Catherine seemed as she was about to faint, and her and Al hugged each other. He couldn't hear them, but Jim could imagine their audible sighs.

"They kept vigil the whole time, Jim."

Brass answered him with a weak smile.

"Someone else kept vigil, too." Grissom decided it was right to tell him the truth.

"Someone else?"

"I called your daughter. I called Ellie. She was here. She...you woke up, and she vanished. I don't know where she went. I'm sorry."

Jim just stared at the ceiling. He couldn't find any words. His emotions were too thick. He missed his daughter, his beautiful but emotionally misguided Ellie. And oh, he was so tired. He just blinked. His throat started to form a lump.

Grissom recognized the signs of a man trying to fight back tears. I can't let him. It won't be good for his trachea. He doesn't need the stress of a closed-off airway. He thought fast. Plastering another wry smile on his face, he said in a perky voice, "Detective Vega also came by, and he told me to tell you that he hasn't cleaned your desk out yet. So it looks like you still have your job." He lightly patted his shoulder.

Grissom's efforts were rewarded. Brass suddenly smiled and looked back at Grissom, clearing his throat. "You mean Ecklie hasn't written me off yet? Good," he said. "Keep him away from my desk."

"You look like a tired man, Jim. We're going to leave you alone until tomorrow. Is there anything I can get you?" Grissom asked, breaking his reverie.

"You've done enough, Gil," he whispered. "Thank you."

"You would have done the same for me," replied Grissom with a wry smile. "I'm going to head back to the lab, Jim. I'll come back tomorrow." He squeezed Jim's hand, then turned to leave the room.

Grissom met the gang in the lobby by the elevators. "I'm going to head back to the lab, guys. I've got some stuff I need to pick up. My team, unless we get a call you all should take the night off. I'm taking the night off myself. My head is...not clear."

Everyone hugged again, and then Catherine, Warrick, Nick, and Greg headed to the elevators. Just as Catherine pressed the elevator button, Grissom heard her pager go off.

Thank God. Thank God. It was all he could think. Brass was going to be OK. He was still critical, but stable, and best of all, he was alert and oriented.

"Gris?"

Sara snapped him out of his reverie. "Grissom, I'd like your permission to work with Catherine tonight."

"Why? Sara, it's 7 in the morning. You just pulled overtime before your own shift...plus you stayed with Brass. Sara, you exhaust me by just being around you. You need to go home and get some rest."

"I'm not tired. Really."

"Sara, do I have to put you to bed myself?"

Sara just stared at him. Grissom stared back with a blank look on his face. "I don't believe I just said that," he said. "I must be more tired than I realized. Look, I'm sorry, Sara. Don't take it the wrong way. Look, if you want to work, go ahead. But you need some personal time. You need to rest, just like we all do. And don't forget we're all on tomorrow tonight. I think it's a bad idea if you work today. I think it's a good idea if you go home and get some rest."

"Ok." Sara just stared at him back. Gil - you have no idea how much I want you to actually put me to bed. "Thanks, Gris."

"So which is it?"

"I don't know. I'm going to go home and get something to eat. Maybe I will stay home after all. I forgot we were on duty tomorrow night. Maybe I'll sit up and...read."

"That's better. Have a good night."

"Good night, Grissom." Sara turned and walked to the elevator, calling over her shoulder. "See you tomorrow tonight."

I'm so tired of this, she thought. That man will never know how much I love him.

Grissom drove back to the lab alone, his mind racing.

Thanks for not pulling the plug, Brass had said. There always has to be a chance, Grissom decided to tell him later. There always has to be a chance of survival. A chance of hope. A chance for a future. Humans always had to try. It was part of the human condition.

Grissom stopped at a red light, and his mind suddenly stopped at a realization: Sara said that to him, a long time ago. Suddenly, before he could stop it, an image of Sara came unbidden in his windshield, quick as a flash. A chance for a future. As quick as lightning and equally powerful, the memories came back, and it was a flood he could not stop.

So many nights they spent in the comfort of each others' arms, basking in the knowledge that they belonged there, together. He didn't want to take her all the way, though. He was still afraid. But then one day, they had a day off and found themselves playing with each other in the bedroom. And suddenly the play turned serious.
She was laying there, looking up at him with her deep brown eyes. A beautiful and equally hopeful smile framed her face as he rose above her, gently taking her legs in his arms, his eyes never leaving hers, the amazing and impossible bond between them so strong it threatened his restraint until it was almost lost. He moved in between her legs, and wrapped her legs about his shoulders. His eyes never left hers. He felt the liquid heat of her touch his own flaming hardness and resisted the urge to push, to be one with her. He was already touching her. If he had pushed, even a little bit – they would be joined, flesh and blood, forever, inseparable.

I can't, he had said to himself. Suddenly it was more than spiritual, but it was corporeal – and real. I can't. I can't. I can't. Not yet. She's too young. She needs…she needs…I can't…

He had jumped off the bed and walked out of the room. Her eyes followed him…comprehending the situation, but not agreeing with his assessment of it. He didn't care if she would never forgive him. He couldn't take her without being absolutely certain that they could have a future together. Because once they were joined, he would not let her go.

But she was young. She had a whole life ahead of her. And even though he knew she wasn't lying that she wanted to spend it with him, he didn't doubt that in the future, she would regret her choice. She would want to leave. She would want children of her own, a family. And if she wanted to leave him, he wouldn't let her. It was something he wasn't prepared to give her, yet it was something she deserved as much as any other woman her age.

He had to let her go now. She deserved more than he was willing to offer. He was as unprepared to have children as she was. He could still turn back now.

And that was what he did.

His treacherous memory haunted him. The light turned green. Grissom slammed his foot on the gas in mental agony, remembering all the wasted potential of their relationship. He pulled into the parking lot of the lab, determined to work on his new collection of worker ants, which would serve to occupy his mind so that his memory could be deterred.

He didn't want to do it. But he had to. She was just going to have to move on.

Sharing his sexuality with Heather did not seem wrong. She was closer to his age – he didn't feel the pressure on him that he was doing something wrong. But it wasn't the same. The attraction was there, briefly. As strong an attraction as it was, it was only a casual thing. He had indeed "lost his balance". But Sara was his soulmate, a spiritual equal, and a scientist in her own right. He tried telling himself that she only looked to him subconsciously as a fatherly figure, but he knew it wasn't true. She had been a woman, then – just as she was a woman now. A woman who knew what she wanted and knew herself as well as she knew him.

He sat outside Heather's house, in his Tahoe, staring at the front door. Heather would never forgive him for his investigation of her. He wanted to go in. He wanted to make it right with her. He wanted her to understand that what he did was only because it was his job - he couldn't show any favor to her despite that incredible night they shared together. He wanted to hold her in his arms, to put her face between his hands again, to look into her eyes. He wanted to do anything so that she wouldn't hate him for only doing his job.

Heather was the only one that had come close to knowing him since he pushed Sara out of his life a long time ago. He wanted so bad to keep her in his life, because it had been so empty since Sara had been gone.

He had brought Sara back on a professional level, before Heather came into his life, and he had to constantly be careful not to show any favoritism towards her because of the way he loved her. In that same way, he did not have the luxury of showing favoritism to Heather. If she was a suspect, she was a suspect.

It was all about the evidence.

He put the Tahoe in gear and drove away, determined never to see another woman again. He had driven away one woman and now had alienated another – all for the sake of his career. Neither of them would ever forgive him for what he had done. Correct though his choices may have been, it did not excuse the fact that they had hurt immeasurably, and he couldn't blame either of them for never wanting to see him again. Even though Sara worked with him, she never forgave him for doing what he thought was right. She understood why he made the choice he did. But she always had hope for a future. "There is always a chance," she had said.

Grissom stepped into his office and quietly shut the door. Sitting down at his desk, his head dropped in his hands, and he let out a sigh of relief for Brass, mixed with frustration for the fact that he was a hypocrite. He had given Brass a chance for life because of what Sara said to him ten years ago, but he denied her the same chance for all of these years. He was a hypocrite.

Sara opened the door to her apartment and slammed it shut. The first place she went was the refrigerator. Despite the fact that she decided not to drink for a while, she still kept beers in her fridge. She hadn't had a drink in over a year, since she had almost cost her and Grissom both their jobs. Grissom stuck his neck out for her. The least she could do was make sure it never happened again.

But on the way over here, she decided that Grissom was right. In fact, she was going to plant herself in front of her TV in her apartment and not leave for at least 24 hours. That would sure shock the hell out of Grissom.

Grissom. He gave Brass life, and denied her her own. Thanks, Gris.

She sat down on her sofa, and fell asleep before she ever turned on the television.

Her phone was ringing.

Startled, she fumbled to reach it, then pushed the button. "Hello?" she asked in a shaky, croaking voice.

"Sara?"

"Grissom, hi. I, uh…I didn't go in to work."

"I gathered as much."

"So what's up?" she asked, clearing her throat and standing up.

And then there was silence.

"Grissom? Grissom, what's wrong?"

"I was…I was thinking, Sara. Would you…would you like to go out for some dinner tonight? I'm sorry, did I wake you up?"

"Yes, yes you did," she smiled. "But it's OK. I am hungry. Did you want to go to eat now?"

"I'm leaving the lab now," he said. "I just…thought you might be hungry."

"Yes, I am. Where would you like to go?"

"Our normal place," he answered.

"OK, I'll meet you there in half an hour," she said.

"See you there."

"Hey Grissom. Thanks for the invite. I'm surprised, really. You're not usually one for company to eat."

"That's true," he said. "But today…is different."

A friendly woman; short, plump, and well up in years came over and introduced herself as their waitress. She had a smile that was pleasant and joyous at the same time, and her eyes were full of wisdom. She took one look at them and smiled knowingly to herself, and asked them what they would like to drink.

They ordered their drinks, and she excused herself. Gil and Sara stared at each other, both of them with their hands on the table, just gazing into each other's eyes.

"Sara."

Gil tried to say something. All he could say was her name.

He took off his glasses and splayed his hands in the air. "Jim thanked me for not pulling the plug."

Sara smiled wanly. "I bet he did. You had a tough decision on your hands, Gris. I wish I wasn't otherwise involved in a case or I would have been around more so you could talk if you wanted to."

"That's OK," he said. "Look…he thanked me for not pulling the plug, and I thought to myself…that I would tell him later, anyway – I thought to myself, there's always a chance. I thought to myself that it's part of the human condition to try.

"That's true," Sara agreed. "If humans did not try anything, we would have nothing. If the Wright brothers didn't at least try to fly, we wouldn't have airplanes. Et cetera, et cetera."

"I know, Sara. You told me ten years ago."

Grissom took a deep breath. "Sara, a lot of time has gone by since…since…"

"…since we were together," finished Sara. "But?"

"I guess…I guess when Brass got shot, something inside me realized that."

"That…that it's been a long time since we were together?"

"Yes." Grissom sighed and stared at the table. "I thought to myself ten years ago that I would have to risk my career to marry you. I thought that if I…if we were…together, if we were married, that you would after a few years…think that you made a mistake. That you might want to have a family with someone your own age."

Sara gazed intently at Gil, realizing that he had more to say.

"But it's possible that…I may have been wrong, that I may have been too overprotective. Too worried, I guess. Sara," he continued, taking her trembling hands in his, "you have to understand…I had to be absolutely certain that we had a future together. I couldn't comprehend making you mine and then having to watch you change your mind when you realized how old I was. I thought you might change your mind about having children."

"I do want children, Gris. I just don't want the responsibility of having them. Just like you."

"I know, Sara, I know. Still…I had to set you free."

"Grissom…" Sara said, fumbling for words while squeezing his hands. "I know you thought you did what was best for me. But what you need to understand is this: it is you I love, and I know that deep in my heart. Everything else…Rich…Hank…they are all soulless men who have no idea of what true love really is. You threw me to the wolves, Grissom."

"I was forty years old, Sara, and you were twenty years old. I just thought…I was imagining the whole thing. I thought if we were married…that I would be selfish to take you. I would be stealing your future."

"No, Grissom," she smiled. "You would be giving me my future. We belonged together."

"So I stole your future in trying not to steal it," he muttered helplessly.

She nodded her head in reluctant affirmation.

"Sara…" he looked at her and smiled. "It's been ten years, now. I think…I think we still do…belong together, that is."

He was met with utter silence.

"Will you…will you come over tonight?" he finally asked. "Watch a movie, maybe? I just bought a copy of Shadowlands."

Sara stared at him blankly. Should she trust him again? Her head said no. Her heart said yes.

"I'll come over to watch a movie," she finally said.

"That will be fine," he answered. "Thank you."

They ate the rest of their meal in comparative silence, each of them mulling in their heads what had happened in the past. I know I asked him a year ago to see where this leads us, she thought. But..I didn't think he would. He's too…self-doubting. And I invested my heart and soul in a relationship where he left me because I was too young. He has no idea how much it hurt. He has no idea how much I loved him.

Sara glanced up at Gil. Will he ever know?

Gil was filled not with self-doubt but a new resolve that he did not have until Brass had thanked him for "not pulling the plug". She's 30 years old now, he told himself. She's a complete woman. And she's not a virgin anymore, either. I feel…I feel free. I love her. Now...now we can be together. There's nothing stopping us anymore.

He glanced up at Sara, quietly chewing her lettuce. There's nothing stopping me anymore. He watched with watering eyes as his own hand moved towards her left cheek, his fingertips brushing it. Sara startled, almost choking on her lettuce. Coughing, she managed to sputter, "Grissom! What are you doing?"

"I'm sorry, Sara. I didn't mean to startle you."

"Oh, Lord!" she exclaimed. "It's OK, Gil…just warn me next time, before you, before you…"

"Touch you?"

They glanced at each other, their eyes connecting with each others, allowing the unwavering bond they had between them in the past to be explored once more.

Grissom opened the door, motioning for his intended to enter without a word.

Sara walked in, carrying a bottle in her hand. "I brought us a little gift," she said.

"What is it?"

"Sparkling Catawba. Grape juice. Something fancy but not disastrous," she smiled sheepishly.

"That's great," he said. "I've got Shadowlands warmed up in the DVD player. Come on over and sit down."

She sat down, grateful for not having to stand much longer, as she had worn dress shoes that were very uncomfortable. As if reading her thoughts, he said, "Take off your shoes."

Sara glared at him from behind his back, but complied.

"Are you a fan of Anthony Hopkins?" he asked.

"Oh yes, actually I am. Is this the movie where Debra Winger plays a cancer patient?"

"Well…it's not the most familiar one in which she does, but yes, she does."

Sara thought to herself, remembering back to when she was a young girl and had seen the commercials on TV for Shadowlands. "Isn't this a romance?"

"The very best kind," he answered with a smile. "And it's a very intellectual movie. It's one of the few I own."

He sat down in the corner of the sofa, and, grabbing the remote, pulled her into the protective crook of his left arm. He pressed the "play" button. At that instant he felt the weight of Sara's head on his shoulder; heard Sara sigh. It was at that moment it seemed as though for a brief instant, all was right with the world.

Grissom closed his eyes briefly, attempting to capture the sensation, burning it to his memory.

Sara wiped the vast amounts of moisture from her eyes. "I want to watch it again," she said. "There was so much I didn't understand right away."

"I know," he said. "I was the same way. No matter the reason he did it, Lewis was a greater man with her than he ever aspired to be. By the way," he continued, trying to cut her mind off at that remark, "I went to see Brass today after we left the restaurant. He's doing much better. He'll be getting out of bed to the chair tomorrow. That'll be a big step with him."

"That's wonderful," Sara said, sighing. "Has anyone seen or heard from Ellie?" Sara asked.

"I called Judy at the lab and asked if she'd seen her. She said nobody saw hide nor hair of her. I assume she fled back to L.A. I called her number and left a message, but…well, I don't really expect her to call me back."

"I know," Sara said. "I wouldn't either. From what I heard, it's a wonder that she didn't try to pull the plug." Sara stopped, wishing she hadn't said that. "If only she could understand how Brass feels about her…she might stop, take the time to see the big picture."

"The big picture," repeated Sara. "Grissom…have you ever felt a sense of waste? Like C.S. Lewis did in the movie?" she asked, referring to Shadowlands.

There was a long pause. "Yes," he said. "I do. Until now, I believe." Grissom listened to her last sentences and thought about it, closing his eyes. "But if someone is scared for someone else, it can be hard to look at the big picture the way it really is. They might see something else…or at least, they might see the same situation, just from a different perspective, and not realize that there are other perspectives." He looked down in to her eyes, and felt his heart try to reach out through his chest to get to hers. "Sara…did you have plans for tonight?"

"Yes. I wanted to sleep."

"It's..it's dark out. You shouldn't go out at this time of night," he said. He was struggling to find a reason for her to stay. And the only one he could come up with was as absurd as hell.

"Don't worry, Gris. I'm packing, remember? I'm a CSI, remember?"

"Yes, and I also remember you clearing the room that time. That was dangerous and foolish."

"Why should Brass have all the fun?" she retorted.

Grissom sighed and shook his head in exasperation. This wasn't working. He waited a while, still holding her in his left arm. "Sara" he breathed into her right ear, stroking her head with his hand.

"Yes?"

"You can stay with me tonight, if you want." He was met with silence. He tried again. "You don't have to sleep alone anymore. Not if you don't want to."

"I never wanted to, Gil," she said. "I know you didn't either."

"No. Sara…I know you won't believe this, but… from the first night that we slept together, I never wanted to sleep alone again. I wanted us to be together always."

"Me too," she murmured, nestling closer to him.

"Please stay with me tonight, Sara," he said.

"Only if you promise never to write me off again."

"I promise," he said, before even thinking about it. Then, he did think about it, and he realized he no longer had any trepidation. No more fear. Kissing the top of her head, he added, "This time, I can promise."

Grissom laid on his bed, listening to the sounds of her taking a shower. Soon, there would come a time when they could shower together, but for now, he gave her the space that she was so used to. He lay there, contemplating Sara. I'm old. I'm 50 years old. I can't be that attractive, he thought. Then he looked up at the sound of the shower turning off. Here I go again. Worrying.

Sara was drying herself off, and he started talking to her through the door - thinking out loud.

"You know how many times we've encountered death," Grissom said. "It's so rare for us to see life prevail from where death encroached so closely on it. That's one reason I feel a sense of waste. Brass almost died. I thought for a while that we were going to have to hang his badge on the wall next to David Bell's."

"And you gave the authorization to save his life," she answered. "It was your call."

"I know," he said. "I'm so used to making decisions. Many of them are of major importance to my job. But I've never decided if someone should live or die. When Brass gave me that durable POA, I didn't know what to say. I had hoped…I had hoped I would never have to use it," he said. Suddenly his mind flashed back to the nurse killed in her bathroom, the nurse that looked just like Sara.

He had looked into the mirror, and saw Sara staring back at him. What would life be like, knowing that Sara was gone? He couldn't sleep until the case was solved. Everytime he looked in the mirror he could see Sara gazing back at him. He wanted to find the man that did this to his Sara and put him down with his own hand.

Then when they found the man that did it…someone his own age…he was filled not with anger and revenge, but he realized that all he had in his heart was a weary sense of sadness and loss. But most of all, he had a sense of understanding for what had happened.

"Sad, isn't it, Doctor?" he asked. And in his heart, Grissom could find nothing but sadness for the lost potential that was his and Sara's. He missed her laying in his arms. He missed being able to look into her eyes unabated in the privacy of their own bed, to share with her everything he was, to explore the depths of their souls to their hearts content…

…But he couldn't choose between Sara and his career. So he had to let Sara go, to set her free.

His Sara. He knew she was his, but he still felt that it …was wrong. He was twice her age! What business did he have taking her as his own? Still…when he was with Sara in any capacity, he knew he was not alone in the universe. But if Sara died, he would be alone, and all the potential they had would have been completely lost.

His head suddenly shot up. "Sara…what if you died?"

"What?" she squeaked from the bathroom, sticking her head out of the doorway to peak at him.

"What kind of question is that?"

"How would you want to go, Sara? If you had your choice of the mode of your death, what would you choose?"

"Quietly," she answered. "Kind of like…I don't want people looking at me, I don't want to be in a hospital. I don't want to leave home. I want to die at home." He heard her open a closet door, and laid quietly for her to finish. He knew, like a good scientist, that she was going to ask him the same question. He wasn't disappointed. "What about you, Gil? If you could choose, what would it be?"

Grissom leaned back in the bed on his elbow, and thought about it for a few seconds. "I don't know," he openly contemplated. "Most people want to die in their sleep, I suppose, and never know that it's happening. Like a crime scene – surprise, you're dead. I prefer to know in advance that I was going to die. I'd like to be diagnosed with cancer, actually….have some time to prepare." He sighed, thinking about what he'd like to do. "Go back to the rain forest one more time, re-read Moby Dick. Possibly enter an international chess tournament. At least have enough time to say goodbye to the people I love." To you, Sara.

Sara walked out of the bathroom, clad in a skimpy cream-and-peach-colored nightgown. It was as skimpy as his own, he realized. She listened to him with a thoughtful look on her face, contemplating her own destiny. "I'm not ready to say goodbye," she answered.

He gave her a sardonic smile. "What are you ready for?"

She stared into his eyes unwaveringly. "You. I didn't want only to sleep in your arms, Gil. I wanted it all. I still do."

It meant so much, and he knew it. She had forgiven him; she had put the past aside so that they could try again.

"You know, Sara," he said. "I only did it because I loved you."

"Shh," she whispered, shaking her head. "I don't want to think of it. I don't even want to remember all the lost time without you."

He reached out with his right arm, and stroked the hair on her head. "You are so beautiful, Sara. I don't deserve someone as beautiful as you. I've spent my whole life with dead things: animals and people and insects. I grew comfortable with them. I grew comfortable with my books and with my pursuit of evidence. I didn't do anything to deserve someone like you. You're so vibrant, so beautiful, so full of life."

"But Gil," she shot back, caressing his face with her right hand, "you're the only one that sees that in me- and more. That makes you deserving. Whether you like it or not, I am meant for you. I find myself…feeling the same way about you. But I know in my heart…" she was cut off by his finger touching her lips.

"No more words," he said, with a super-serious look on his face and with love in his eyes.

She felt tears begin to well in her own. "No. No more words," she answered, nodding her head.

"No more waiting," he added, his lips coming so close to her that his nose was touching her.

"No," she said firmly. "I've waited long enough."

"We both have," he breathed.

His lips touched hers, and suddenly there was nothing left in the universe but Sara. Sara broke the kiss long enough to stand up and walk to the foot of the bed, where she got on and crawled up to lay next to him. He reached out and pulled her into his arms, cradling her head to his chest. After a few seconds, he could feel moisture against his skin. He looked down and tipped her face up to his, seeing tears in her eyes.

He understood immediately. All the talk they had of death had made her miss him already. He decided it was time to make her feel what he was feeling.

He lowered his head to hers, taking her into a kiss that lasted for several minutes. His hands touched her face, her neck, caressed her shoulders and collarbones…

Sara could feel their skin touching through the open folds of their robes. This was what she had missed. She had no desire at all for the fit, tan skin of young men and their hard muscles. She wanted the comfort that only came with the soft, pale, warm flesh of Gil Grissom; his tenderness mixed with strength was something she had never seen or felt in any other man. His hands caressing her collarbones only reminded her of what she desperately desired for ten years. She missed their spiritual oneness, the meeting of their hearts and minds. Her happiness suffused her, and the minute his arms encircled her completely, there was nothing else in the world left except for Gil Grissom.

Gil Grissom was not a man given to do things half-assed, nor was he in the habit of carrying on in a casual relationship in which he didn't care where it went. He knew that after tonight, it was official to him. He would be her man. She would be his woman.

Is that what I want? he asked himself. And without question, he knew the answer was yes.

So he was free to give her what she wanted. What they both wanted. And just as soon as feasibly possible, he would ask her to marry him. Sara was not a woman given to do things half-assed either. He was sure that was what she wanted with him. He wouldn't have it any other way. But he had to be sure.

"Sara…" he breathed. "Sara…wait."

"What, Gris?" she stopped kissing his neck long enough to look into his eyes. "What is it?" He could see fear in her eyes, as though she feared he was going to stop what they were doing and write her off…again.

"There is something I must ask you," he said. "What…where do you want to go with our relationship?" He paused, waiting for a response, but she gazed at him with blankness in her eyes, as though she were unsure as to what he was asking. He elaborated. "Sara, this is not a casual relationship, and you know I don't give in to casual dalliance. If we…if we do what we want to do tonight…in my heart…in my mind…you are my wife," he finally said. "In many ways, you've always been. But I would want to make it formal. It's only fair to both of us. But I have to know if that's what you want."

"Grissom…"

"You don't have answer me now. You can think about it if you want. We don't…"

"Grissom," she interrupted, putting a finger to his lips. "I don't have to think about it…I already know what I want…I…You know I've never been…in a decent, safe relationship. Even as a daughter I couldn't trust or be safe. I couldn't even trust my own mother. But with you…I know I'm safe. I know the man you are. I know…we belong together in the most intimate of ways. We're both mature adults, Gris, and yes…I do want to be your wife. If that's what you want."

He looked at her, and a wry grin covered his face, and his eyes pierced her. "More than anything, I do. If you hadn't been so young and innocent when we met, you would already be." With that, he stripped her gown from her, reveling in the beautiful glowing skin and soft curves that belonged to his wife-to-be. He then struggled to free himself of his blue and white shirt, and with that, they were naked and free, together in private. Together, they threw back the covers on the bed, and they stayed on their knees in an intimate embrace, touching everything they could possibly touch on each other. She watched in thrilling exhilaration as he plunged his head down to her breasts and pushed her on her back. Her hands stroked his hair and the back of his neck.

And he didn't stop.

He trailed kisses down her chest, down her abdomen, and then to the most private area on her body. He seemed to be worshipping her, she thought. His hands caressed her inner thighs and the back of her knees, causing electricity to course through her. She was a live wire, writhing in his lower-body embrace. She called his name again and again and each time he answered with his tongue. The electricity reached a focal point between her legs, and the heat turned into a molten fire which caused her to squirm in its sublime luxury. He groaned as he felt her liquid fire increase. He worked harder, increasing the pressure of his intimate kiss without over-stimulating her or letting his beard roughen her skin. Mental note, he thought, I'm shaving this beard tomorrow. Sara told me how much better a clean-shaven beard felt…

But he had no time to continue his thoughts. He heard her start to moan, a deep, low, primal moan, that began to increase in its pitch and intensity. He knew she was close to her climax. He shoved his hands underneath her buttocks to caress them and hold them at the same time as her body began to shudder and tremble and tense, curving upward in a paroxysm.

Sara reached the blessed release that they worked towards together. "Gil! Oh God, Gil! Gil!" she heard herself scream over and over. The blessed, beautiful release made her gasp, attempting not to drown in the sea of her bliss and contentment.

But she realized as she looked down at him that it was their bliss and contentment. She caught sight of Grissom gazing into her eyes from all the way down there, sharing in her joy and happiness.

Her eyes were dark pools of soul, and he was lost in it.

She watched in amazement as he rose to his knees. She couldn't help it. "Oh my God," she breathed out loud. "Oh my God."

It is now as it was ten years ago, he thought to himself, watching her facial features mold into an expression of wonderment. Look at her. Her face is full of joy…hopefulness…excitement…

I always thought it was because she was so innocent. She wasn't. She was truly in love with me.

She still is.

He molded her legs to his shoulders and wrapped his arms around her legs. He pushed his way to his rightful place next to her body. He could feel the heat of her liquid fire against his own flaming madness.

Are you sure? he mentally asked her one more time with her eyes.

A smile so beautiful and glowing that melted his heart crossed her face…and she reached her arms out to him.

Like a man coming home for the first time in ten years, he dove in to her arms, and allowed his body to slide into her hers at the same time – never removing his intent gaze from her own.

This was what Sara wanted – not only since she met Grissom, but for her whole life. To be with her true love, to know that she was his in every sense of the word. She was not a real woman until now, she felt. Tears streamed down her temples as she gazed into his eyes and felt him move inside of her. How much she loved him...now he would know. She could never be a real woman without him.

Neither of them could achieve their true potential without each other, he realized. He was like C.S. Lewis – taking his own life into the world of intellectual pursuit and ignoring the natural drive of humans – to love and to procreate, because it wasn't safe.

But here, now, he was safe in Sara's arms.

"Open it."

Sara's hands trembled as she held the small black box in her hand. Her hands trembled so hard, she couldn't.

Grissom reached out and took the box from her hands, and with his own steady hands he opened it. There, in the middle of the plush velvet, was the most exquisite ring she ever saw. It had a glistening broad gold shank with three stones set in it. The middle one was a large diamond, the one on the left was a peridot, and the stone on the right was a ruby.

"I knew you didn't want just a generic diamond ring," he said. "I personalized it – it represents you and me, together, joined in love."

Sara just squeaked. She couldn't find her voice.

He pulled the ring out of the box and placed it on her finger.

"Tomorrow. Let's go get the license tomorrow."

She nodded her head, struggling hard to fight back the tears.

"Dearly beloved," the minister began, "we are gathered here together in the sight of God and these people to witness this man, Gilbert Edward Grissom; and this woman, Sara Nichole Sidle; joined in the bonds of holy matrimony…"

Catherine watched as Albert held his wife's hand as she rubbed the tears from her eyes. Catherine felt Warrick nudge her, and she sent him a grateful smile as he handed her a tissue. But it was more than a tissue. She felt something crackle in it. It was a piece of paper. She rubbed her eyes with the tissue so she could properly read.

The boss inspired me.

Will you consider a relationship with me?

Catherine looked up into Warrick's eyes, grasping Lindsey's hand in her left hand and took Warrick's hand into her own right hand. Lindsey gave her hand a squeeze, and she looked over at her to see Lindsey nodding her head and smiling.

"Do you, Sara Nichole Sidle, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, from this day forward, for richer or for poorer, for better or worse, in sickness and in health; to love, honor, and cherish as long as you both shall live?"

"I do."

Catherine looked over to Warrick and smiled, squeezed his hand, and nodded tearfully.

Warrick bent down and whispered into her ear. "I already asked Lindsey. She's cool with it." And with that, he kissed her ear.

"And do you, Gilbert Edward Grissom, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, from this day forward, for richer or for poorer, for better or worse, in sickness and in health; to love, honor, and cherish as long as you both shall live?"

"I do."

Catherine was so touched that Warrick was so thoughtful of Lindsey. "Thank you," she whispered back.

"…I now pronounce you husband and wife…"

The whole church was suffused with nothing but love and happiness….

I hate ending this story, as it has no real ending…nonetheless, there is no more I can add..

A/N: I don't believe that the true screenplay for GSR won't end this way. It'll probably end the way CVR ended, or something like it. But that's what is all about.

I'm sorry, I don't know how to do chapters...---thank you for reading---> GSR Edge