A/N: This is it! After 6 years, it's finally done. I'd like to thank Kelly, my amazing Beta through all 6 years, 52 chapters, and 3 companions. Rosa- my cheerleader for the first half (before I disappeared to take care of RL things), Ash and Claire- who were behind me all the way, and Michael- who hopped on the bandwagon a little late in things, but gently (and consistently) nudged me to get it done!

Lastly- thank you to everyone who has ever read/will ever read this. Your wonderful reviews have kept me going long after the show disillusioned me with its uneven writing and the loss of our two favorite characters.

This last chapter took me a while to get to- I knew exactly what would happen in it since I've started the story. Even these last few weeks, it wouldn't come out right. Then, finally, I decided to go back to what really made this story great: the story through Grissom's eyes. I hope you enjoy this last chapter, and I hope you've enjoyed the whole story. I've enjoyed writing it.


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Epilogue: Custom and Ceremony

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How but in custom and in ceremony

Are innocence and beauty born?

-W.B. Yeats, A Prayer for my Daughter


Five years later

Nearly thirty years have gone by, but somehow I'm back to where I started: looking down at a baby girl and thinking of Yeats. It is the circle of life, exemplified.

Only this time, it is my granddaughter that I'm watching sleep: blue eyed, chubby cheeked Alexandra Sanders asleep in her own crib. Sara and Emma are out at the grocery store; the first time that Emma's been out of the house since she gave birth a week ago. Greg is down the hall in the kitchen, cleaning up after dinner.

Thirty years ago, I had no idea where I'd be today. I thought that Maggie and I might have a life together, a family together. I thought that maybe I'd be the county coroner by now, or maybe have written a few books on entomology. I'd always hoped, somewhere in the last thirty years, to be a grandfather.

I just never knew that I'd take quite such extraordinary path to get here.

I hear Greg softly step into the room behind me. "She still asleep?" he whispers.

I smile, looking at the already doting father over my shoulder. "Yes." I look back at her, watching as she sucks on her fist in her sleep. "Funny thing about infants, they only seem to want to be awake when you want to sleep. That will change soon enough, though."

Greg joins me at the rail of the crib, looking down at his only daughter just like I had so many years ago. "Yeah, three AM seems to be the hour of choice lately, closely followed by six AM."

Her room is bathed in the soft glow of the sunset, the walls a soft purple with pink and yellow accents all around. I can still remember painting it with Greg and Nick, laughing when Nick screwed his shirt into the crib frame, and watching as Greg carefully applied the soft flower boarder, the determination that the room had to be perfect in his eyes.

"You'll remember each and every three AM feeding, five AM diaper run, and four AM drive around the block." I turn to him, watching him watching Alexandra. The sparkle in his eye, the love and pride there, is far too familiar to me. My hand falls on his shoulder heavily. "She'll change your life in ways you'll never believe, in ways you can never prepare for."

Greg looks up at me, and I can almost see a tear in his eyes. "She already has."

We're silent as we watch over my granddaughter. She'll grow up in a family that's safe and secure; she'll have a mother and a father who love each other, grandparents who love each other as well and who are close by, she'll start out her life with all the things that I had hoped to give to Emma.

And yet, Emma turned out more amazing without those things than I ever could have imagined. Just think about what Alexandra might be able to accomplish, to become…

She gurgles in her sleep, wiggles a bit, and her nose scrunches up: the cries are coming any second. "I'll go get the bottle," Greg whispers, smiling before he disappears out the door. I had no doubts before, I have no doubts now: Greg will be a wonderful father.

Alexandra whimpers the first uncomfortable strains and I can't help myself. "Hey, sweetheart," I say cheerfully as I reach into the crib and gently lift her out. Before the last few days it had been years since I'd held a newborn. It's so easy to forget how small, how fragile they are. "Are you hungry? Your Daddy's getting your bottle… let's go find him." I gently rock her as I walk towards the kitchen, her whimpers high pitched and unhappy, but not a full out cry yet.

Emma and Greg's house went from bare bones when they first moved in to a real, comfortable, warm home in the last five years. Seeing my own daughter as a wife and a mother was just another wish for her that has somehow miraculously been fulfilled.

Greg takes Alexandra from my arms gently; cradling his daughter and helping her find the bottle in her sleepy stupor. She slurps greedily as he sits on the couch watching her drink. I let him have that simple, quiet moment while it's still magical and not yet rote as I go searching for the bag I brought over with me. I take my time, hearing the softest murmurs as Greg talks to Alexandra during my venture to the front door and back.

I sit across from him just as he puts the small bottle down and lifts her tenderly to his towel covered shoulder. I pull out a leather bound book and put it on the table in front of him.

"Yeats?" he asks, looking over as he pats my granddaughter's small back.

"There's a poem in there, 'A Prayer for my Daughter,' which I used to read when Emma was little. I didn't read it to her, it was more for me. It's about all the things that you hope for a baby girl. I think…" I stop and take a deep breath before continuing, "I think you'll like it." I shrug, playing with the edge of the bag. This is more emotional than I thought it would be: seeing my own child have a child, watching as this small family finds their way in life. "Of course, the rest of the poetry is wonderful, but that poem is the reason that I got you this specific volume."

Greg smirks, leaning back so he could wipe the milky dribble away from Alexandra's mouth. "I'll give it a look at about 4 am." He looks at the other thing I brought, the frame I'm holding, and smiles. "Hammer and nails are in the toolbox in the back room. I keep meaning to bring them downstairs- but it seems like there's something new I have to put together every day now."

I grip the frame and smile at him. "The toys will only start getting more parts and less specific instructions."

After a quick detour to the back room, a bare room with a wood floor and a single desk that Emma used to work on teaching combinations and Greg used for an office to pick up the hammer and nails, I'm back in my Granddaughter's room. In my hands I have a pink frame. Inside is a small watercolor by a local artist of Winnie the Pooh looking into a purple Honey Pot, behind that, a certificate for Alexandra's star, bought by Sara and myself.

As I hang it on the wall across from her crib, I can't help but laugh. Sara's still a little uncomfortable, even after almost ten months of living with the idea, that she's a grandmother. Nick and Greg have taken to teasing her about it every chance they get while Emma and I have been a little more sensitive to her feelings on the issue. Despite her thoughts on the titles and linage of it, Sara adores the newest addition to the family.

Greg wanders in as I'm straightening the frame on the wall. "Emma told me you were getting that. She still has hers." He lifts Alexandra up a bit so she can see. Already, she's yawning again, her bright blue eyes blinking. "Ok Grandpa," Greg smiles, holding out his daughter to me, "Your turn." He picks up the hammer and case of nails. "Think you can handle her while I grab a shower and get ready for work?" A lift of my eyebrows is all I need to say. "Right, right…"

Greg disappears into the house and I am once again left alone with my granddaughter. Her tiny mouth works itself as she struggles to find her fist, her eyes bright and wide open now that she's being held by someone new. She reminds me so much of Emma, but I can see Greg in her, too.

Thirty years ago, I couldn't fathom this moment. I couldn't think of all of the things that would happen to me, all of the people I would meet, of the paths that I have walked to get to where I am now. I walk over and sit in the rocking chair in the corner, gently swaying as I settle in.

"You have a lot of people who love you, Alexandra," I talk, barely above a whisper. "We'll do everything we can to make sure…" I take a deep breath, not sure how to say all I want to say, "To make sure that you are happy and healthy and safe. To make sure you have the best life possible." She squeaks up at me, reaching out and grabbing onto the hand that I was using to stroke her hair back.

Her entire hand grasping my finger brings so many memories to the fore front, so many things I want to do with and for her, and so many mistakes I made with Emma for which I want to atone.

"She won't disappear, Dad." Emma's standing in the doorway. I didn't hear them come in, but just past her shoulder I can see Sara smile at me from the hall, dropping a package of diapers by the nursery door.

"Yes she will," I whisper as I look up at my own daughter. "She'll grow up; she'll never be like this again. This Alexandra… will disappear."

Emma walks toward me, a little slower than I'm used to, but she's still recovering from the birth and isn't quite as spry as she once was, though she will be in a few months. "I guess that's true," hormone driven tears flood my daughter's eyes, "but I could do without the midnight feedings, too." She punches me lightly in the shoulder. "I'm going to tell Sara you made me cry again."

I stand, handing my only baby her baby. "Darling, you cry during hot dog commercials." She laughs, then tickles Alexandra's belly, causing the faintest of giggles to slip out of the child.

"Point taken." She holds her baby closer to her and turns, looking at the painting I just hung up. "It's beautiful."

"Her certificate is behind it, just like yours." I shove my hands in my pockets, shrugging. I love watching them together.

"I've been thinking of hanging mine up in here. I hate that it's sitting in a box right now." She crosses to the changing table and begins to change Alexandra's wet diaper.

"There does come a point in every girl's life where she'll outgrow her Winnie the Pooh print." It's true, and I've always been amazed at how attached she's been to that simple picture. "I think being a mother yourself signals that it's far beyond the time when you should be having that hanging in your own room. But you're right, I think Alexandra would enjoy it."

She tosses away the diaper and snaps up her daughter's onesie. "Thanks, Dad." She lifts her up, cradling her tight to her chest, and bumps my shoulder as she heads out of the room. "Come on, Sara and I got stuff for sundaes. At the very least you can all let me eat in peace before you abandon me for the night!" Her voice is light and happy, and I can't help but laugh as I follow her out.

From the hall I watch Emma pass the baby to Sara and the joy they share. A freshly showered Greg passes me and heads straight for Emma, hugging her from behind and kissing her cheek.

I smile, leaning into the wall, content to watch everything unfold around me for a moment. I never could have foreseen this, and I never would have wanted to. Every tear, every fear, every moment when I wanted to go back and change what had happened led me here. How could I want to change watching Sara, my love, my wife, talking happily with my daughter or watching as Greg lays on the couch, my granddaughter on his chest, smiling and singing the ABCs to her?

"Dad?" Emma calls from the kitchen, waiting expectantly. Sara looks at me, knowing I've lost myself to my thoughts again and just a bit amused at it. Greg is staring too, asking Alexandra if she can say 'Grandpa.'

I push away from the wall and step into the room, for the first time in my life not hesitating or questioning, and lose myself in the family that somehow, someway, has formed around me.