A/N – Please R&R. The story started out as a one-shot and has kind of taken on a life of its own. I have another story (The Return) that I want to get back to. As long as I am getting responses I'll keep going, though.

A/N 2 – For those who have read Beer Five and Whiskey Four, I'm working on Tequila Three, but it'll be awhile before I get it done.

Disclaimer – Own nothing. Please don't sue me.

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By the end of the week, Grissom had told Dr. Susan Mason all about his relationship with Sara. She listened intently, making the occasional note, never interrupting while he relayed Sara's kidnapping and nearly losing her in the desert, and then while he talked about her departure.

"I can be careless," he murmured, his head leaning against the glass window of her office, gazing blankly outside.

"How so?" Susan asked.

Shaking his head, he sighed, and turned towards her.

"Sara sees the emotion of people. She would see someone hurting and she'd have to point it out to me and remind me of my responsibilities," he explained.

"Can you give me an example?" Susan requested.

"Greg Sanders, one of my CSI's had been nearly beaten to death and in the process ran over this kid and was being sued," Grissom said. "He'd had a particularly brutal case in court one day, and instead of looking at him and paying attention, I snapped at him because I had a headache."

With a half-grin, he said, "Sara didn't have to say much, but she pointed it out to me."

"It sounds like Sara complements you," Susan observed.

Sitting back down in his chair, Grissom asked, "Then do you understand why I can't just…"

"What?" she asked.

"Move on," he whispered, looking down at his hands now clenched on his knees.

Looking at her, he added, "I know some don't understand. They don't get why I can't be the same old Grissom."

"And you can't be the same old Grissom," she concluded for him.

"No, I can't."

"Have you really let yourself grieve?" she asked.

"She's coming back!" Grissom exploded.

Taken aback, Susan watched him stalk around the room before he paused in his usual spot in front of her window.

"You've talked about your experiences – before and after Sara was abducted," Susan said.

Gently, she continued, "It changed both of you – it probably intensified some emotions to the edge. In less than forty eight hours, the two of you lost your privacy, your peace of mind, some faith in yourselves, and most likely any real feeling of safety you'd built together."

"Grissom," Susan implored, "you need to grieve for that loss."

Slowly, he let out a long breath and nodded.

"Okay," he acquiesced, "I think I understand."

Susan smiled at Grissom and said, "Time's up, and today was our last mandatory session. I hope that if you find that you need help, you'll call."

Standing, Gil shook the psychologist's hand.

"It has helped," he said, and left her office – for home and sleep.

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When Gil Grissom arrived in his office that night, he found another letter waiting on his desk. It had been nearly a month since the last. He grabbed Hodges, who had been hovering outside his office and ordered, "Get Greg. Quickly."

Less than a minute passed before Greg came flying into Grissom's office.

"What's wrong?" he asked, worry etched on his face.

Grissom replied by holding up the letter.

With no fanfare, Grissom noted the Florida postmark and opened it.

Dear Gilbert,

I would tell you where I am, but I'm not totally sure. I know I'm in Florida. I just started driving south from Boston until I found this little cottage on the beach. During the day, the sand is so warm, the water beautiful. At night… I don't look at it at night.

I see children running up and down the beach right now. These same two kids play out here every morning – a young teenage boy and his little sister, I assume. I can hear their laughter all the way in the house. It's nice.

I went to Disney World yesterday. I didn't ride anything – I just people-watched. All these happy families passed by me, and while part of me smiled, another part wondered what terrible secrets they hid behind the masks they wore.

Last night I dreamed of the car and the water again. But this time it was you trapped. It terrified me. I woke gasping and crying because I couldn't get to you. I felt so helpless.

I am going to take a walk on the beach. The sound of the water cresting is almost comforting – funny, considering my dreams.

I leave you with words from H.W. Longfellow "It is difficult to know at what moment love begins; it is less difficult to know that it has begun." I understand and agree – nine years.

I miss you.

Love, Sara

Greg sat patiently while Grissom finished the letter and held it out to him. While Greg read, Grissom pulled together the day's assignments. He sat back and watched the myriad of emotions playing over the younger man's face.

On a sigh, Greg handed the missive back and stood. A sad smile played on his lips and together they walked to the break room.

"Hey guys," Nick muttered absently, half-engrossed in a magazine and waiting for the workday to start.

Warrick played a car-chase came on the TV, and Catherine was reading the latest style magazine.

Clearing his throat, Grissom said, "Sara sent me another letter."

Their heads shot up at once, and everyone watched Grissom, waiting to see how he would react. He'd been so… volatile… lately, that they waited for him to cue how they should react.

Smiling, Grissom relayed the gist of the message.

Looking at Catherine, his smile saddened, "She didn't tell me where she was really."

She walked over, smiling back and laid her hand on his arm.

"She'll let you know when it's time," she reminded him. "Sara will tell you when it's time."

Grissom nodded, put the letter away, and handed out assignments.