Chapter 19

He was standing alone. Dozens of people were moving around him. Yet Grissom was alone. So alone. He had never felt so alone. Broken. Torn in two. Drowning in the middle of a landlocked village. It was over. It was actually over. Years of wanting. Of yearning. Of loving. Over. One conversation. One phone call. It was over.

He already regretted it. Already wished he could turn back time. It was for the best. It was for her. The best thing for her. It had to be. It was for the best. But if that was true, why did it hurt so much?

The phone clenched in his hand. He hadn't been able to let it go since she hung up on him. Desperately, foolishly hoping she would call back. Would tell him she thought it was as big a mistake as he did. Would tell him that she didn't want it. But she didn't.

The phone stayed silent. As silent as the chaotic village he found himself in. No sound reached him. Ears listening out for one thing, and one thing only. But it never came. Everything was silence. This was his life now. Silence. Without her, the world had no sound. Had no light. No colour. It was grey. Grey and silent.

All he could do, was go through the motions. When his time in Uganda was over, Grissom wondered. Catching plan, after plan, after plan. A nomadic existence he never thought himself capable of. Playing poker to supplement his income. But it was all empty.

It was only when he met members of the Sea Shepard organisation did some colour start to creep in. Slowly brightening his days. When he brought the Ishmael, when he was out on the ocean, sounds rang clear. The crash of waves. Calls from Gulls. A whale song in the deep.

It was like she was there with him. He saw her, every day. But never as clearly as when he was on the water. He could hear her laugh in the waves. Smell her perfume in the breeze. Feel her touch in the spray that kissed his face. Her eyes haunted his dreams.

He sailed the waters for a year. Catching poachers. Doing his bit to save the ocean. Doing his bit, for her.

"I think it's time, Grissom," Heather said to him, during one of their weekly phone calls. "You've helped me. Now let me help you. How long are you going to deny yourself the one thing you want above all else?"

Grissom made no reply. But a week later he told her. He had turned his boat around. In every spot he was able to get even the smallest hint of signal, he organised his trip. Booked a flight. Contacted his team leader. It was simple. Easy. Two years late. But not, he desperately wished, two years too late.

Sara and Grissom made the drive to Catherine's town house in silence. Grissom's mind running over everything. Dissecting every moment.

Heather was alive. They still needed to prove her innocence, but she was alive. She was ok. And Sara… Sara was wearing her ring. She had invited him to stay with her. She was willing to work with him. Grissom knew that Sara didn't trust Heather, not that he could blame her, but she was willing to try. Willing to help him prove his friend's innocence. Not for Heather, for him. Putting herself on the line, for him. If he was wrong, he wouldn't be the one to face the fall out. She would. Yet she was willing to do it. Risk it. Sara was always better at taking risks than he was. She led with her heart, just as much as her head.

He missed her, every day. Thought about her, every day. Dreamt about her, every day. And seeing her again... It was like coming up for air. For the last two years, he felt as if he was only half himself. Missing that vital part of who he was. Missing the core of his very being. Missing her. She was in him. Like a word carved into stone. Only, there was no amount of erosion that could wear her away. Waves of life crashed over him, but nothing, not even the strongest tempest, could wash Sara Sidle out of his heart.

He knew, from the moment he decided to return, he would stay. That, unless she sent him away, there was nothing on this earth that could make him leave her again.

Grissom looked over to the woman who held his love, her ring catching the lights they passed. Shining brightly against her pale skin. It winked at him. Welcoming him home. Pulling him in. The ring, that ring. A simple piece of gold metal that wrapped around her finger. It called to his. It's matching half.

Sara pulled at her sleeve, a nervous habit she had been doing ever since she had arrived at PD. Grissom frowned. He knew all of Sara ticks, all the nervous beats she used. This was a new one.

They pulled up at the house, the lights still on, and Sara parked in front of the garage. She sent him a hesitant smile, her hands slipping down from the wheel. Her ring shining in the dark. Grissom had to clench his fist in his lap. The urge to take her hand again, to feel that ring under his thumb was overwhelming.

"Um," she said, a little haltingly. "Just a heads up, moms… she's a little…"

"Annoyed?" Grissom asked, the corners of his mouth tilting up a little.

"To put it politely," Sara replied, returning his smirk.

"That's alright, I'm used to it. She's been pretty… frustrated with me, ever since…" he let the sentence hang. This particular subject had been the elephant in the room, ever since he had found her again. They needed to talk about it, he needed to explain. But he didn't know how to start. What to say. All the excuses he had, the reasoning behind it all seemed so pathetically impotent now he was with her again. A regret he would carry, for the rest of his life. He robber her. Robbed them. Two years. Two long, lonely, miserable years. For what?

Something flickered across Sara's face before she gave him a small, understanding smile and looked away. Grissom watched as she got out of the car, his heart squeezing with the pain he had caused her. Had caused them both. He would make this right, no matter what.

He followed Sara to the door. Her bag was strung over her shoulder and Grissom halted. Sara looked over as he hesitated, arching an eyebrow in question.

"I uh," he said. "I forgot my bag, at the lab." He gestured to hers, a little lamely, and shrugged. It was late, and Grissom had no desire to go trapsing across Vegas. Not then. Not when he might finally get a chance to speak with her. To be with her, without the pressure of the case pressing over them. Without her colleagues watching his every move.

"It's ok," she said, raising a shoulder. "We can get it in the morning. Unless you need it now?"

"No," he said, quickly. "I can manage for one night." Sara's lips quirked up and she turned back to the door. Using the key Catherine had given her, Sara let them both in. She waited for Grissom to follow her through the door, before closing it behind them. Clicking the lock into place. Sara made her way through the hall, Grissom trailing after her, and she dropped her bag on the kitchen counter.

"Clarke?" She called out, as she took down two mugs from the cabinet. "Tea?" She asked him over her shoulder.

"Please."

Sara was rummaging through the cabinet's, looking for tea, when Clarke and his mother walked in.

"Gil," Clarke called out, as he walked through the door. The young man walked right up to Grissom and shook his hand. A smile hitched onto his face. Clarke had been with Betty for the last five years, since he emigrated to the US, and he and Grissom had forged a good relationship over that time.

Clarke was steady, not easily rattled and he cared for the Grissom's like his own family. They had even travelled to Derry with him a few years back. It was the last trip he and Sara took together before…

"Nice to see you again, Clarke," Grissom said, but he wasn't looking at the young Irish man. He was looking at the small form of Betty Grissom, watching him from the doorway. Her short grey hair curled around her head. Glasses perched on the edge of her nose, blue eyes shining behind the rims. Eyes he had inherited. Eyes that usually held all the warmth of a mother. "Hi, mom," Grissom signed.

"Hello, Gilbert," Betty replied. "It good to see you." She gave him a small, strained smile before turning to Sara. "Can I get you anything?"

"I was just about to make some tea," Sara signed. "Did you want one?"

"No, thank you."

"Clarke?"

"No," Clarke replied. "Thanks, Sara." The young man looked between the three other occupants in the room. Sara had turned her back to them, putting tea bags into the mugs. Betty was looking between Grissom and Sara, and Grissom was shifting, uncomfortably, under his mother's decerning gaze. "I think I'll turn in," Clark signed, and said allowed for Sara's benefit. Who still stood with her back to the room. Without waiting for an answer, the interpreter left the room.

"Why don't you two go to the lounge?" Sara signed as she turned around, the kettle bubbling behind her. "I'll bring this in for you." She smiled, but Grissom could see her shoulders were tight. He wanted to stay with her, to talk to her. To release the tension across her neck. But his mother was watching them. And Grissom knew he owed her an explanation, almost as much as he owed Sara one.

Sara turned her back, once more, and placed her palms on the counter. Effectively putting a stop to her involvement in the conversation. Betty raised an eyebrow and Grissom gestured for her to lead the way. His mother left with a quick glance at Sara, leaving the two of them, for the moment, alone.

Grissom looked over the woman beside him. Her shoulders were hunched, and her fingers were pressed against the counter. The tips white with the pressure. He knew she was fighting something. But without looking at her face, he couldn't tell if it was anger, or tears.

"Sara?" He called, but she shook her head.

"Go and speak to your mother, Gil," Sara said, not looking at him. Her voice was heavy, thick. "She's been waiting for you all day."

"Sara," Grissom said, holding out his hand. Wanting to touch her, but not daring to close the distance.

"Please, Gil. Just go."

He hesitated for a fraction longer, before dropping his hand and walking out the door. Betty was standing in the living room, and he knew she had seen the interaction. The open door giving her a perfect view of the kitchen. Guilt flooded him as he saw the pain in the older woman's eyes. Pain for the daughter she had adopted. Pain for the son she loved. Pain for herself. Pain he had caused.

"How long are you here for, Gil?" She signed. Grissom's shoulders sagged. He knew his mother wouldn't beat around the bush. Betty Grissom was not one to pull her punches. But he had hoped they could have a few minutes before she began her interrogation.

"I don't know," he replied. "It all depends."

"On what?"

Grissom just looked back to the kitchen. It was all the answer she needed. "Sit," she signed when he returned his attention to her, and mother and son took opposite seats. A large, black, metal coffee table between them. Betty settled herself on the cream coloured, fabric two-seater sofa, while Grissom perched in the middle of the matching three-seater.

The room was large, comfy. Hardwood floors that stretched across the entire ground floor. A white rug in the centre, under the coffee table. Large floor to ceiling windows looked out into the garden. Walls painted white, but full of picture frames, awards, printed paintings. Grissom could see a photo on one of the shelves opposite him. It was one he had himself. Of the team, taken before everything changed. Before Natalie… before Warrick… Grissom had his arm around Sara's waist. They were smiling. All of them. No darkness haunted them at that time. It was the golden age of Grissom's career.

"How's your friend?" Betty asked. "Sara said you were helping a friend, that they were in trouble?" She clarified at his confused look.

"She's ok," Grissom signed, sighing a little as he leant back. Betty raised an eyebrow at the pronoun but didn't comment.

"Can you tell me about it?" She asked.

"No. I'm sorry, Mom," Grissom replied, honestly. "It's an ongoing investigation. You know I can't discuss it." Betty nodded; this was nothing new to her. With both Grissom and Sara working in law enforcement for the better part of 30 years, Betty had gotten used to being shut down in her questions on their cases. Especially the open ones.

"Is that why you came?" Betty asked. "To help your friend?" Grissom shook his head.

"I was already in Vegas when I heard."

"So, why are you here?"

"Because, you were right," Grissom signed. "I'm sorry, Mom. I'm sorry for everything. I shouldn't have shut you out, I shouldn't have left. I just…" His hands faltered; how did he explain what happened, when he didn't understand it himself?

"Are you going to make it right?" Betty asked.

"I'm going to try," Grissom replied.

"Then, we'll leave it at that," Betty replied, and she stood. "I'm going to turn in, too. I'll see you in the morning?"

"Yes," Grissom signed as he stood. He crossed the room and Betty folded him in her arms. Tears pricked at his eyes as he lay his cheek atop his mother's head, feeling all the love she was putting into that strong embrace. Knowing he was forgiven, even if he didn't deserve it.

"There's no time like the present," Betty signed as they pulled away. "She's been waiting for you."

"I don't deserve you," Grissom replied. "Either of you."

"I'm going to hazard a guess, it was that sort of thinking that got you into this mess in the first place?" Grissom didn't respond, but he didn't need too. "You listen to me, Gilbert," Betty signed. "You deserve happiness, just like the rest of us. You made a mistake. You're human, you're allowed. Just do as the rest of us do; make it right and learn from it. You've got a special lady in that kitchen, Gil. Someone who loves you, mistakes and all. Stop punishing yourself for something she is waiting to forgive you for. You've already lost so much time together, don't lose any more."

Betty was smiling at him, in that loving, motherly way she reserved for him and Sara alone. A smile for the children she loved more than life itself. She patted his cheek and, before he could even thank her, turned on her heel and walked away.

Grissom watched her go, his heart lighter than it had been since he landed in Vegas. He hadn't even been back a whole day, and already so much has changed. He had no idea what would happen when he and Sara finally spoke. If she would send him away, or give them another chance. All he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, was that he loved her. And he wanted to try.

Despite the time, despite the fact that he had been going nonstop for over 24 hours, Grissom felt wide awake. Nervous energy coursed through him as he turned back to the tall brunette, still pottering around in the kitchen.

Not time like the present.