A/N: Second chapter to start your weekend-enjoy! RATING changes for Chapter 3!

A Pleasing Finale

Chapter 2

~~~~Several hours later in the CSI locker room:

"This may be your last multiple," Greg teased Sara as they shrugged disposable overalls off their shoulders. "Leaving us to deal with this kind of mess while you fly off to the jungles of Costa Rica—paradise in the rainforest!" He laughed as he struggled to get his arms out of long sleeves until Sara reached to help.

"We are not leaving yet, Greg." She stepped out of the protective clothing and skillfully folded it into a small bundle for the trash. "Actually, I'm excited—you should visit us. We'll be there for three months, back here for a month or so, and then return for another three months. It really is a spectacular place—all kinds of things to do including surfing on two coasts."

"Won't you be in the middle of a jungle—studying bugs, capturing slugs or something like that?"

Sara giggled. "It's not all work and no play! We're going to a research center in one of the national parks. We hope to have one of the cottages or apartments but even if we don't, we can find you a place to stay." She opened her locker, ran her finger along several photographs before pointing to one. "Here's where we'll stay—it's a quick hike to a wonderful beach."

Greg leaned over her shoulder and looked at the photograph. "Is this where the old guy found you? On the beach in a tiny bikini?" He asked, teasing her with a jab to her ribs.

She turned to face him, giving him a monk frown before smiling. "No—actually when Gil came I was in the jungle. It's not really a jungle but a great wildlife preserve and we were tracking these cute little monkeys." She laughed and questioned "Did you know what he was going to do?"

Greg took a few steps back and leaned against closed lockers. "No—I don't think anyone knew where he was going. Why?"

"It was such a surprise. I had not heard from him in days—weeks, actually—and he walked into the area where we were working, stood there looking at me! I thought I was dreaming—until he moved."

Shaking his head, Greg said: "We had no idea where he was going. Until we got your postcard, none of us knew where he was." He laughed. "Catherine laughed—said she wished she had gotten a pool started for what he was going to do!"

Sara moved to a bench and began to take off her work boots. "I don't think he told anyone—including his mother—where he was going." She snickered. "I don't think she's forgiven me yet!"

After opening his locker, Greg joined her. "I'm going to miss you, Sara. Every day."

"Ahhh, Greg." She loved him as a brother and wanted to believe he loved her in the same way. "That's sweet. You've always been a good friend—more than a good friend. And you are invited to visit us. We'd love to have you."

Greg dropped his boots to the floor and reached for clean clothes. "You know, I was angry at Grissom for a long time—I'm not sure I've ever really forgiven him for not going after you the first time you left us."

Several minutes passed before Sara said, "Don't blame him—I had so much going on I needed to escape. From everyone for awhile. I hope I never step into that darkness again." She folded a change of clothing over her arm. "You know, the shrink called it post-traumatic stress, and I guess it was. I was so overwhelmed by everything—Natalie, the way Ernie Dell died for her, and then crazy Hannah West. In the desert that night, I kept thinking about my own father—in a way he died for me."

Greg ducked his head, surprised to hear this remark. He knew Sara's mother had killed her father and he had assumed an abusive relationship. He kept his head down and remained quiet.

Sara sighed. "Did I ever tell you about my parents?"

"No, not much."

"We never had much of a home—lots of fighting, lots of broken things, frequent moves. My mother's mental condition would deteriorate; she would get treatment and come back home. School was a sanctuary—a place of peace and safety. My father knew this—now I know he was overwhelmed, drank too much, couldn't keep a job, and the night he was killed, my mother had destroyed nearly everything in the house. My father had been drinking; otherwise, he would have gotten us out of the house, but when he tried to stop her—she had taken a knife to my books—she turned on him with a fury that was unfathomable."

Greg placed his hand on her back and moved it in circles. "I'm sorry, Sara."

She lifted a hand in a wave. "I can finally talk about it without feeling guilty. I was a kid. My mentally ill mother was abusive; my sober gentle father a cruel drunk. For a long time, I thought if I had not tried to save my books, my mother would not have killed my father and that would have made things okay." She made a distressed laugh. "But now, I believe more in Grissom's butterfly effect—what happened that night began years before and nothing I could have done would have changed things."

She laughed again, more cheerful. "When I met Gil, I knew I loved him. I knew I would be safe with him. I knew I would find my sanctuary with him—a gut instinct, intuition—call it what you will—but I had this unusual peaceful feeling around him that I had never experienced with anyone else." She looked at him for the first time since she had sat down. "I loved him from the first conversation we had—truthfully, I would have followed him to the end of the world after that. Instead, I came to Vegas where we danced around until one day—around the corner, in the shower room—he asked me to have breakfast with him."

"In the shower?" Greg asked with a grin.

"Not in the shower—but when I came out of the shower, he was sitting there and asked if I wanted to eat breakfast. After that day, I don't think we were apart for more than a few hours for months." Thoughtfully, she added, "My safe haven—he made a home for us, Greg—and until Natalie, we were safe, secure, so very happy in our private world! When he took the sabbatical—that was the first time we were physically separated for any length of time."

It was Greg's turn to look puzzled. "Where was I when all this was going on?"

Sara giggled. "Right here—with everyone else! We thought everyone would know—we thought you would notice right away! And it was months before you figured out I was no longer living in my apartment!"

"I remember how you avoided answering my questions!"

She became serious again. "When I left the first time—which was an awful thing to do to everyone, but especially to Gil—he kept saying he understood, but I don't think he really did. Not for several weeks—not until we both talked to a psychiatrist. I was in a very dark place but managed to make a lot of progress on my mental health and then Warrick died. I thought I was coping until Pam Adler and I felt I was falling into an abyss again. We both needed a break from everything. I knew Gil needed a break." She shook her head, "But he would not leave. He insisted on staying here and for the first time in a very long time, I thought I had lost him. He was crawling into that same dark hole I had just escaped from and I was trying to pull him out and he refused," she laughed. "Stubborn man!"

Greg listened, fascinated. He had heard bits and pieces of this story, but nothing as completely as Sara was telling him. He said, "He was pretty depressed for weeks." He turned to face her. "We had a case—a young girl died and we ended up at the old Chateau Rouge casino. If walls could talk, I'd have a bestseller book! I don't know what happened but I've always tied that case to Grissom's decision to leave."

"He told me about that case—missed opportunities, he said." She smiled. "I need to shower—I know I smell…"

"Sara!" Nick filled the doorway as his voice filled the locker room. "What are you doing in here? Catherine's office—now!" He waved an arm in an exaggerated motion and pointed in the direction of the office.

Puzzled looks appeared on both faces.

Nick grinned. "Get in there, girl! She's looking for you!"

"For us?" Greg asked, standing up with Sara.

Nick shook his head and stepped aside so Sara could leave the room; a perplexed look on her face as she passed him. Behind her back, he mouthed one word to Greg. The two men followed her down the hall.

Greg whispered, "We smell—she never showered."

"He won't care," Nick responded, his grin spreading across his face.

A/N: Remember, rating changes for Chapter 3! Thanks for reading!