Epilogue.

"Where to?" the driver asked as he stowed Sara's bags in the trunk of his taxicab.

Sara pulled Grissom's business card from her pocket and read the address he'd handwritten on the back of it. "2819 Upshur Street?"

"Hop in," the driver replied with a smile. "It's not far."

He opened the door for Sara, and she got in. Jogging over to the car's other side, he climbed behind the wheel and started up his engine, then held his arm out through the open window and filtered into the traffic headed out of San Diego airport. Sara opened the window, breathed in the sea air. The airport was situated near the bay, and as the plane had come in to land she'd been able to admire the breath-taking views of the bay itself, but also of the skyscrapers of downtown San Diego and Pecto Park, the home of the San Diego Padres.

Now all she could see as she stared at the passing scenery were rows upon rows of shimmering white yachts and tall masts bobbing in the many harbours against a backdrop of clear blue sky. No wonder Grissom dreamed of taking up sailing. She'd been to San Diego once before, when she'd been a student at Berkeley, and the place hadn't lost any of its charm and beauty. Always seventy degrees, she remembered her friend telling her, winter, summer, it's always seventy degrees. And she could well believe it. She remembered eating the best fish tacos she'd ever tasted there too. Maybe Grissom knew a good place for them to eat out that night. She smiled brightly, as her stomach grumbled at the thought.

Her mind drifted to Nick, and she wondered whether there'd be time to catch up with him before she and Grissom were due to set off. She and Nick hadn't spoken in a while, and she wished she had more time. Maybe when they got back from their trip, she thought then. For now, she was eager to see where Grissom lived, how he lived. They'd talked on the phone the previous evening, and he'd mentioned going to South La Jolla State Marine Reserve to test pollution levels.

She checked her watch, doubting that he'd be back already. She'd go to his apartment first, drop off her bags if he wasn't there, and then head to the harbour, take a walk and hope for the best. Of course, she could always call him on his cell, find out his exact whereabouts if he was within range, but she didn't want to tip him off and spoil the surprise. Just to see the look on his face when he saw her. Her smile broadened again. God, she couldn't wait. Well, that was assuming he was pleased to see her of course.

"You're here on pleasure, I can tell," the driver said, drawing her out of her thoughts. "You have that dreamy look about your face."

Sara met his gaze through the rear view mirror. "I am," she replied, her lips once again pulling into a wide, giddy smile.

"You're here on vacation?"

"You can say that. I'm...meeting my husband actually." She frowned—husband? Where had that come from? When did she start thinking of Grissom as her husband again, she wondered? And then, had she ever stopped? She thought about amending her statement, but then decided not to. Who cared about a title? What mattered was that they were back together. "We're going on three-month expedition with Oceanpeace."

The driver gave a nod. "I heard of them. They're always on the news. They do good work." He paused, and thinking it the end of his polite chitchat Sara turned her attention back to the scenery. "So, a husband and wife team, huh?" he added after a while. "In my experience it's never good to mix business with pleasure."

She flicked her eyes to the rear view mirror. "It works for us."

The driver nodded again, then refocused on the road and Sara turned her gaze back to her surroundings. They'd turned off the harbour road and were now headed inland. Soon, the driver slowed down, then stopped outside a red metal gate with an electronic pad and CCTV camera, allowing access to the complex. The place didn't look cheap, and Sara wondered how Grissom could afford it. Oceanpeace was a great organisation, which did fantastic work, but as a charity-based trust it couldn't afford to pay its staff a lot and heavily relied on volunteers.

She hesitated briefly before reaching into her messenger bag for her money purse and paying her fare. "You sure this is the right address?"

The driver laughed. "Certain."

She glanced at the building. "Could you…wait for me?" she then asked. "I won't be long. I just want to drop off my bags."

The driver glanced at the bundle of bills in his hand and nodded his head. "Alright. You got ten minutes."

"Thank you."

Sara got out of the car, took her bags from the driver and slipping her sunglasses to the top of her head stared up at the apartment complex apprehensively. It was three-story high, with an open parking garage where the ground floor should be. Shouldering her overnight bag, she pulled the handle up on her case and wheeled it down a pedestrian entranceway, following the signs to the apartment complex management office. She looked around uncertainly before ringing the bell for the super.

The door opened a crack. "Yes?"

Sara fixed the super with a smile, once again taking the business card out of her jacket pocket and reading from it. "I'm…looking for Apartment 16. I'm visiting my…" Again, she found herself on the verge of calling Grissom her husband, "Grissom—Gil Grissom lives there."

"And you are?"

"His…" She was about to say wife when she paused, then thought of saying ex-wife but worried that might not open her many doors. So instead she said, "I'm Sara. Sara Sidle."

The super raised his eyebrows, then smiled and gave her the once-over. "He's not home."

"I thought as much," she said, swallowing back her disappointment. "I was wondering if you could let me into his apartment."

The man stared at her suspiciously. "Is he expecting you? 'Cause he didn't say anything to me and we have strict rules about visitors."

"He's not expecting me, no. This is a surprise visit." She glanced at the bags by her feet. "I just want to drop these off, if it's alright with you."

The super hesitated, then ran his eyes the length of her one more time and with a relenting sigh went back inside before returning with two keys on a ring. He held them out to Sara, but before she could make a grab for them closed his hand around them. "The apartment's on the first floor," he said, and indicated right. "Stairs are this way; just follow the signs."

Reluctantly he opened his hand, and smiling her thanks Sara took the keys from him.

The super motioned to her luggage. "You want a hand with these?"

"I'm fine, but thank you."

The super gave a nod. "This time of day," he said, as slipping her sunglasses back on she turned to leave, "He's either down at the harbour or still at sea."

Sara turned back to him and smiled. "I know. I'm headed there next."

"You know your way around?"

Her brow arching, Sara paused and gave him a smile. "Actually, I don't."

"Taxi's still waiting?"

Frowning, she nodded her reply.

"Tell the driver to try Shetland Island Drive. I know he docks his boat there sometimes."

Sara's face lit up. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it. Just don't forget to drop the keys off. And welcome to San Diego."

The apartment was small but neat and tidy, and beautifully furnished, and Sara knew Grissom hadn't had a hand in that. Maritime artwork adorned the lightly-painted walls, and again she wondered how he'd come to live there. Still, his things were everywhere; shoes and coats on a rack by the door, books and CDs on shelves, as well as files and photos and paperwork carefully piled on the glass-topped coffee table, yesterday's newspaper on the kitchen counter nearby. Two doors, both closed, led off the main room, and Sara guessed at a bedroom and bathroom.

She'd loved to have a look into the bedroom, but worried that the taxi driver would leave without her if she took too long she didn't venture further and simply dumped her luggage by the front door, locked the place up after her and quickly retraced her steps back to the super. The taxi driver was still there, listening to a sports commentary on the radio as he waited. She smiled her thanks to him, and with a nod he switched the radio off and started the car back up.

"Where to?" he asked again.

"The harbour? Shetland Island Drive?"

"Vámonos."

As soon as she could see water, Sara sat up in the cab and scanned her eyes, searching all over for him. She knew it was futile, but she couldn't help herself. Unconsciously, as she searched, she fingered the teardrop on her sternum. They were half-way down Shetland Island Drive when she thought she saw him. Craning her neck, she straightened in her seat, then whipped her head around as the taxi drove past to make sure.

"There!" she shouted suddenly, excitedly. "That's him. There!"

The driver looked toward where she was pointing and eased the cab to a stop a little further on before reversing and entering that part of the docks to park. She had her seatbelt off and the fare money ready, even before the taxi had come to a full stop.

"Keep the change," she said, handing the money over, and slipping her purse back into her messenger bag let herself out of the cab.

"Good luck on your expedition," the driver called, but Sara was already shutting the door and didn't hear him.

The breeze was stronger here, so close to the water. She stood for a moment, willed her racing heart to calm, then looked around uncertainly before turning toward where Grissom was. The sun was behind her, and after tucking some unruly hair behind her ear removed her sunglasses. She watched hesitantly as he moved about on his boat packing his gear away. Once again she felt unsure of whether she'd acted a little rashly volunteering with Oceanpeace, and wondered whether he'd find her presence on the expedition crowding and intrusive.

No more second-guessing, she told herself sternly, and as though reeled in started walking toward his boat, toward him. He was coiling a rope, wrapping it around his palm and elbow like an old pro. Once finished, he dropped the rope, then released the boat from one of its moorings and pulled in the plastic fenders protecting the boat from bumps and scuffs. Realising he was casting off, she quickened her pace, hurrying down the gangway to the wharf.

"Wait! Wait!" she called in the breeze. "Gil, wait for me."

Grissom paused suddenly, then looked up and turned toward her. She gave a hesitant smile, continued walking, while he stared, unmoving, disbelieving, before a slow shaky smile of realisation that she was truly there, that what he was seeing wasn't a figment of his imagination, spread over his features. All her fears and worries evaporated instantly. Her gaze locked to his she reached the boat, and his smile widening he held out his hand to her, helping her on board. His hands moved to her waist, at once strong and familiar, easing her over the side while hers moved to his shoulders. They never once broke eye contact. His lips pinched, and the barely contained emotion she saw in his eyes made hers fill with tears. He was overcome with happiness by her apparition, and she was by his reaction. They fell into each other's arms then, and clung fiercely to the other, never wanting to let go.

"Yes," she told him silently, "I'm here. I've picked you. I picked us. I chose our love over my work."

And still, they held each other tightly.

"I'm speechless," he said, his voice choked up, when finally they pulled apart. "Once again, you leave me speechless."

Sara's lips pulled into a wide smile. "I know all I need to know. And besides, someone once told me that words are overrated."

He laughed, then smiled tenderly as still he stared at her with disbelief and stroked her face. "Why didn't you say you were coming?"

"And spoil the surprise?"

He pinched his lips again and slowly closed the distance between them for a long and languorous kiss. "Thank you," he said earnestly, pulling back, and then opening his hand and showing her his humble abode, "So, what do you think?"

Cocking a brow, Sara looked around. "I hear she's fast, and reliable."

"Oh, she is." A proud smile danced on his lips as he opened his hand once again, introducing his boat. "Sara, meet Ishmael."

"Ishmael, huh?"

He shrugged. "I didn't name her."

Sara smiled, glanced around. "Any chance of a tour?"

Grissom's brow rose. "I can do better than that. How about a ride out to the point? I know this really good spot where we can drop anchor and watch the sun set."

Sara's face couldn't light up any more than it already was.

"Get the rope, while I start her up."

"All right," she said, eyeing the rope warily.

But Sara was a fast learner, and before long they were setting off into the setting sun. As they stood on the top deck with Grissom at the commands, Sara wrapped both arms around him and snuggled into his side. The wind was cool as it whipped her hair about her face, and repressing a shiver she tucked herself closer still. She couldn't think of anywhere else she'd rather be than there by his side and she knew she'd made the right decision dropping everything to spend the next three months with him.

"That's the naval base, there," Grissom said, drawing her out of her thoughts. Straining to hear him over the whistling of the wind and the waves crashing against the boat, she looked over to her right, to where he was pointing. "And that's New Point Loma lighthouse, over toward the end of the point."

Sara adjusted her gaze to the white light blinking in the distance, then smiled and nodded her head.

"The first lighthouse was built in 1855," he went on enthusiastically, and she refocused on him, "but it often got obscured by fog as it sits atop the 400 feet cliffs, so they built this one much lower down. We can go to it tomorrow, if you want. It's a long trek to it, but well worth it for the view."

He glanced at her then and smiled, and keeping her hair out of her eyes Sara nodded her head in reply. Was he changing his plans for his last day ashore to accommodate her visit, she wondered? And he still hadn't asked what she was doing there. Did he assume she'd simply come to see him off?

The light was quickly fading when they reached the end of the bay and rounded the tip of Point Loma Peninsula. The lighthouse was clearly visible now, its bright beam flashing reassuringly, and the view over the ridge was simply awe-inspiring. The Pacific stretched out in front of them, the setting sun reflected over its shimmering surface. The breeze was stronger there, the water choppier, and unsteady Sara reached out a hand to the railing.

"We got to be careful here," he said. "Especially at low tide. There are a lot of submerged rocks."

Slowing the boat right down, Grissom scanned all around them, then took a turn closer to the shore at the very tip of the point away from the main sea lane, before cutting the engine and moving swiftly down to the deck to drop anchor. The water there, on the edge of a cove, was calmer, the boat steadier, and feeling safe enough to let go of the railing Sara wrapped her arms around herself for warmth.

Too overwhelmed for words by what she was seeing, by what she was feeling, she could only watch him and smile. It felt like a dream, one she never wanted to wake up from. Glancing over his shoulder, he motioned excitedly for her to come down from the top deck, then moved quickly around and reached inside the cabin for a warm jacket.

"Put this on," he said, tossing the garment to her when she joined his side, "before you catch your death."

Giggling, Sara slipped the thick jacket on over her much lighter one and zipped it up. Grissom held out his hand and she took it, then holding on to the safety railing carefully followed him around to the bow. She was sure she'd find her sea legs at some point, but not quite yet. Letting go of her hand, Grissom sat down with his legs dangling over the side of the boat and reluctantly she followed suit. She had to trust he knew what he was doing, for both their sakes.

He draped his arm around her shoulders, cast his gaze out toward the ocean and stared with a soft, contented smile on his lips. She watched him watch the ocean for a long moment, watched the light of the setting sun dance in his darkened eyes, until she turned her head too and just like him became entranced. Vegas, and her life and work there, became a distant memory as she let the peace and tranquillity, the restorative powers of her surroundings, envelop her.

"So you've come to bid me goodbye?" he asked quietly after a while.

A giddy smile forming on her lips, she turned toward him and lifted her shoulders in a mild shrug. "I was missing you," she replied simply.

His face softened. "I was missing you too." His eyes clouded over, and he sighed. "How long have you got? We're leaving the day after tomorrow. At the crack of dawn."

"I know."

"So, that gives us, what? Thirty-six hours."

The resignation in his voice tugged at her heart. "Not quite," she said, stifling her smile.

He frowned. "Don't tell me you've got to head back before I leave…"

She covered his mouth with his hand and shook her head. "I'm not going anywhere."

"No?"

Slowly, she shook her head again. "Well, not without you anyway."

His puzzlement intensified.

She shrugged. "I'm…coming with you on the expedition. I'm the guy they were fast-tracking. The reason why you're not at sea already."

It took a moment for her words to sink in, but when they did he laughed. "You―you're coming on the trip?"

"I am. I mean, why should you be having all the fun, huh?" She sighed, looked at him beseechingly. "I couldn't let you go, Gil. Not so soon after…we'd only just reconnected."

Grissom could only stare at her, speechless. "Wow," he said after a moment. "Wow. That I was not expecting."

He gave her a soft smile. Then he tightened his hold around her shoulders lovingly and turning back toward the water laughed again.

"You don't know how much this means to me," he then said excitedly, emotionally, and she remembered telling Catherine the exact same words. She leaned her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. "How often I've thought of this day―dreamed of this day."

He took in a deep breath he let out slowly, and Sara remained quiet, content to just be, content to let him process everything.

It was a long while before he spoke again. "It's going to complicate living arrangements aboard the ship, you know. I mean, you'll be in the women's quarter and I share a berth with five other men. My bunk's at the bottom and there is a curtain I can pull around it, but it won't be easy."

Sara opened her mouth to retort, but no sound came, and she chuckled in disbelief. "I'm sure we'll find a way. After all, we managed all right in that tent in Costa Rica."

"We did, didn't we?" he retorted, his eyes shining with mischief when he turned to face her.

They shared a long look and a tender smile and a truckload of happy memories. "So, you don't mind?" she asked afterwards. "My coming with you?"

"Not at all. In fact, as I recall, I'd asked you to come in the first place."

"And I said I couldn't."

"What changed your mind?"

"I want to give us a better chance to make it, you know? After you left, you, and us, was all I could think about and I realised that I needed to take that step in order to make that happen."

"And the lab?"

"The lab's fine. It'll be there when I get back, the job too. Catherine's at the helm and Yeager―from days?" She qualified when Grissom drew a blank on the name. "He's agreed to stay on. Well, he's asked for a transfer to Grave actually." Her expression clouded suddenly as she thought of Greg and the look of hurt on his face when she'd told him she was leaving.

"What is it?" he asked.

She sighed. "My coming here was hard on Greg. He―"

"―doesn't think I'm good enough for you," he finished for her with an uneasy chuckle.

She registered a look of surprise. "I don't think it's that."

"Oh, I do. When you left CSI to go to San Francisco to find your mother, he thought it was my fault you left, that I hadn't tried hard enough to make you stay."

Sara didn't hide her shock. "He said that to you?"

"Not in so many words. But it didn't take a genius to figure it out."

His turn of phrase made her smile, and idly she wondered if he was being literal in his description.

"He's always had a crush on you, Sara, you know that."

"At the start, maybe, but not anymore," she protested. "He's like a brother to me."

Grissom laughed. "Which is exactly why he feels that way about me."

Sara's eyes narrowed, and she fixed him with a puzzled look, at a loss for once as to how to make sense of his logic, but she could tell by the distant look on his face that his train of thought had moved on from Greg, and she didn't ask.

"I can't believe Ecklie agreed, though," he said. "What did you have to promise in return?"

"Nothing. I just didn't give him the choice, that's all. Once Catherine had agreed to step into my shoes, I was coming no matter what."

Grissom studied her at length before finally nodding his head. "Means a lot what you did," he said again, a little choked-up, "You giving it all up like that, for me―for us―when you'd only just been promoted."

Smiling softly, she reached up her hand to his face and stroked it, and then leaned in for a kiss. They stayed in each other's arms a while longer until his face lit up suddenly and he pointed his hand over to their right. Sara turned and watched as a silhouetted sail boat glided across the horizon a long way away. Its sails were full, the sea wind propelling the boat south toward the Mexican waters.

"I got something for you," she said, startling suddenly. "Stay here." She scooted back, then pushed to her feet and holding on to the railing headed to the cabin below deck. She grabbed her messenger bag, took it with her, and with his help took up her seat again. Slowly, she opened the bag and took out a large book she handed to him.

His brow rose. "Sailing for Dummies," he read, with a twist of his mouth. He studied the book cover, scanned the blurb at the back, then gave a hearty laugh and turned toward her. "You're calling me a dummy?"

"It seemed a good place to start," she replied, laughing too, "if you're serious about learning, of course."

His expression sobering, he opened the book and flicked through a few pages.

"It's just a little night-time reading," she said, in case he thought of starting right then.

His face lit up with mischief, and he turned toward her. "I can think of better things to do at night-time."

She laughed. "But not on the ship, huh?"

He pulled a face. "I'll sort something out." He tapped the tip of her nose and shook his head. He still couldn't believe that she was there by his side, and she couldn't blame him. She'd felt the same way when he'd turned up at her camp in the Corcovado reserve in Costa Rica all those years ago. They'd gotten married then, she thought suddenly, a wide smile tugging at her lips.

"You cold?" he asked when she repressed a shiver, and hooked a thumb over his shoulder toward the bay. "You want to head back?"

"No, not yet." She turned back toward the setting sun which was now but a distorted red sliver disappearing into the ocean. Then she took the book back from him, returned it to her messenger bag and reached for his hand. She gave him a soft, tentative smile then, and by tacit agreement they stood up and silently made their way to the small cot in the cabin below deck.

And made love to the gentle rocking of the boat and the rhythmic bright flashes of the lighthouse watching over them.