Epilogue

The warm water cascaded down her back, almost scolding hot. She leaned against the wall, wondering if the water could wash away Hannah's screams or the cold dread of her own memories.

Mark was dead. But the feeling of his dark eyes tearing into hers was not. It was still there, along with the bruises and the fear and the slight dent in her fridge door. She wondered if it would ever go away.

Her apartment was no longer a crime scene, yet she hadn't driven there. She had driven to Grissom's place. To gather her clothes, she had told herself. To take one shower before she had to wash away the stench of fear at her own place.

She heard the door open faintly. It was Grissom, she knew, finished with whatever had held him up at the lab.

"Sara?" she heard him call.

"I'm here," she answered over the running water, and the bathroom door opened. She didn't turn around.

Moments later, she felt his arms encircle her. He hadn't even undressed, and the water quickly soaked his clothes.

"It's over," he whispered, and she shook her head. "Sara, it's over. We got him."

"And little Hannah Grundy will have nightmares for the rest of her life," she replied, feeling tears sting in her eyes. Child services had come, of course. Hannah hadn't said a word since she had seen her father's blood spill over the green grass and white flowers. Not even a good foster home could ever erase that.

Mark might have killed his daughter by dying.

Not if she could help it. She had no idea what she could possibly do, but there had to be something. Kids were tough. Hannah would survive.

But surviving wasn't the same as living.

Grissom said nothing. There was nothing to say. He just held her, eyes never leaving her face.

"I should go home," she muttered.

"Don't."

She wanted to ask him what she meant to him, but for now, that one word was enough. He didn't want her to go and she didn't want to either.

She just nodded and clung to him, not caring about the water running over her face. Perhaps she cried, she wasn't sure.

He titled her head upwards and kissed her gently, just one touch of lips to lips. She let out a frustrated groan, and pulled his head down to nearly crush his mouth against hers.

The new pace was frantic, the kiss deep and hard. It edged away the pain and the grief and the memory of Hannah's dark eyes. For a little while. Solace.

The moment wouldn't last. The hot water would run out and he couldn't kiss her forever. Another murder would be committed, and they would have to go to work again. Another day would kill the night and chase away the stars. The sun would dawn. The moment couldn't last.

But for now, it was enough.