Thank you all so much for your reviews! They mean a lot to me, and I do admit, I'm treading on "thin ice" with this story, and no one's really seriously flamed me, and I really appreciate it. And I know that I'm probably picking at old wounds with this story, so I apologize for any hurt you may be feeling because of it. And here is the last chapter, and I warn you now, Sara is going to die, so if you don't think you could read it, don't, because, I'm seriously not going to back out now.

And A Bloom and SaxophoneFornesicschic05, my condolences for losing people close to you to cancer. My mom had cancer, and a lot our family friends had cancer, and one of my friend's mom died from breast cancer. As I said way back in chapter 1, this story is a sort-of dedication to all of them.

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Sara was the love of my life. That's the only way to put it. I remember how after we got the news and she made her decision, she said to me, "Nick, you better not treat me any different than you have for the past three years, or I'm going to have to kick your butt." Well, with a command like that, how could I do anything else but follow it?

We told the rest of our friends, minus Warrick and Deborah, since they already knew, and the reaction we got was what we expected. Catherine started crying again, uncontrollably hysterical, and when she finally calmed down, she hugged Sara and said, "You're really brave to do that for your child. Welcome to the world of motherhood; everything is for the kid." Sara and I just nodded, there really wasn't much else we could think of doing. Greg, who we had called into the break room, didn't say anything, he just moved to us, and gave us the world's biggest hug. Okay, I take that back, he did say, "I'm here. So, if you need to rant to somebody or something, I'm here." Grissom had actually become lightheaded and almost fell over, and couldn't speak for what seemed like an eternity. After all, Sara is like his daughter, and I'm like his nephew. Warrick was sitting in one of the chairs with his hands folded in front of his face, looking suspiciously like he was praying.

Sara continued working in the field until she was about six months pregnant, when the combination of fatigue from pregnancy and cancer took their toll. After that, to keep her mind occupied, she stayed at the lab, sometimes helping the lab techs with DNA samples, or helping Grissom with his never ending mountain of paperwork. She lasted about a month before her condition became so grave, that Drs. O'Connor and Feindstat thought that it would be better for both her and the baby if she was admitted to hospital. They were both grown men, both raised the same way: keep the stiff upper lip, and all that, but every time they spoke to Sara or me, they would always get tears in their eyes. It was kind of touching actually.

Deb and Warrick eloped after Sara went to hospital, their reasons being "We want Sara around to tease us about married life before anything happens."

I guess that was a good thing, because now Sara had something to look forward to talking about when they visited her at odd hours, in between work and home. Grissom managed to convince our dictator of a director to give me time off with pay until the inevitable happened, so I was by her side 24/7.

The eighth month of her pregnancy came and went, and Sara was still alive, barely there, but still fighting for her life with everything she had. She amazingly carried the baby to term, gave birth the "natural" way, or as close to it as possible. I was overjoyed. Here we were, a complete family, and we even had the picture to prove it. Dr. O'Connor said that it might be possible to treat Sara with chemo and stuff, since she lasted ten months, instead of the predicted eight, and she might actually live longer. That same night, Sara took a turn for the worst. I was lucky that I called Warrick and Deb, as well as the rest of the CSI team.

Sara passed away without the prophetic messages or heart touching soliloquies you hear in the movies, or in novels of any kind, and I sort-of expected that. I mean, this is Sara, my wife, we're talking about, after all. She hates all that sentimental "crap" as she calls it. She just gave me this little smile, said, "I'll be waiting for you," closed her eyes, and she flatlined. I had been expecting that for months, but when it finally happened, I literally lost it. I lunged at her, as though I might still be able to catch her alive one last time, but there was no hope now. I clutched at her like she was a lifeline, held her in my arms, and cried my heart and my soul out into her hair. The nurses were considerate, when I look back in retrospect. They just disconnected her from all the tubes and wires, closed the doors, put a sign on them saying, "Do Not Enter" and left the two of us alone. Then they waited, while I tried for hours to make sense of all of this, until I was ready for them to clean her up.

We held her funeral a week later in Tamales Bay. Everyone who was her friend came, even Grissom, Dr. Robbins and Jim Brass, who challenged their respective bosses to fire them for going to a loved one's funeral. And just like he did three years earlier, for a happier occasion, Greg played "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring" on his violin. It was almost painful to watch him, as he dipped and swayed with the music, tears running obliviously down his cheeks and he didn't make a move to wipe them off, even when he was done. Warrick tried to play the piano accompaniment, but he never lasted past the fifth measure.

At the reception, everyone came up to me, and said, more or less, "My condolences." By the time the last person said it, it didn't have any more weight or validity, as though they were just saying that for the formality of it.

"Why do the most wonderful people in the world die young?" I asked myself out loud.

"Because they've served their purpose here on earth, young man," an older woman answered me. She looked vaguely like Warrick. "I'm Warrick's grandmother, Mrs. Angela Johnson," she added, confirming my doubts.

"Thank you for coming," I managed to murmur.

"It was no trouble at all," the woman, who looked like she was in her eighties or nineties replied, "Warrick always said that you three were like family. Called the CSI Trinity or something?"

"Yeah," I replied with a slight grin, remembering the happier times, "Yeah, that was our nickname." And just that memory alone made me break down again.

"Here, let me take your baby," Mrs. Brown told me. "You know," she continued, "I knew this wise man, a bit younger than myself, and he told me something once that gave me a whole new perspective on this topic of death. Are you going to listen to what I'm going to say?" When I nodded yes, she said, "This man said to me, 'Death is like a boat, when it disappears over the horizon, people don't realize that it's got a destination, and people are waiting for that ship.' So, what I mean to say, young man, is that you'll see your wife again, because some day you will set sail and she'll be waiting for you."

"Thank you," I replied, and I really meant it. This old woman gave me a whole new way to look at all this in a few words.

Warrick came up to us then. "So I guess you met my grandma, huh?" he asked heavily. Digging into his suit's pocket, he pulled out a CD case. "Sara asked me to give this to you," he said. I was had our wedding picture on the front, and numerous love songs on the back. Warrick continued again after composing himself. "She said that you should listen to it when you're ready."

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It has been ten years, and the pain of losing Sara has not diminished, but somehow I managed to move on with life. Our son, James Phillip Stokes, and I live in San Francisco now, so that we can be close to Sara and her parents. It's ironic, really, when I go out with James and single women begin hitting on me, because they find it attractive that I have a child with me, and the only person I wish would flirt with me, is the one person I can't have: Sara. And speaking of irony, I still work at a crime lab with the SFPD, but so does Warrick, who moved his family out here a few years after I did. Greg does too, because he couldn't stand being the only one of the original group left in Vegas. Catherine and Grissom both moved to Miami, to work at the crime lab there. I guess the memory of Las Vegas and all its implications were just too much for all of us.

I had the day off, and I was bent on cleaning up our den, because it looked like a war zone. I had finally managed to put all the CDs in alphabetical order, when that one CD caught my eye. It was the one I did not have the strength to listen to, the one Sara asked Warrick to give to me. And again, sounding like a broken record, irony. These were all love song, and I looked at this cover so many times, I knew the titles off by heart. "Amazed", "Because You Loved Me", "Everything I Do", "Forever And For Always", "From This Moment On", "Hero", "More Than Words", "Surrender", "To Where You Are", "Truly, Madly, Deeply", "Trust Me, This is Love", "Unforgettable", "Tears in Heaven", "I Could Fall in Love" (Our wedding song), and "I Will Always Love You". Deciding that I better do this now, I summoned all my inner strength, and put into the CD player. I had expected music to pour out, but instead, I heard Sara's voice. I was mesmerized by it, and she said a dedication and an explanation before each song. By the time I got to the end, I was crying hysterically.

"Dad!?" James asked worriedly as he stepped into the den, "Are you alright!?" I couldn't answer, as much as I wanted to. I hated worrying my son this much, but I was rendered helpless by the grief that came crashing back at me in waves. "I'm calling Uncle Warrick," James pronounced decidedly when I didn't respond again.

Five minutes later, Warrick came crashing into the room. "Nick, you okay?" he asked. By this time, I had managed to get a hold of myself.

"The CD," I stated simply, "Sara was talking on it."

"Yeah," he replied, "She managed to twist Archie's arm and get him to compile a CD for her. I guess I should have told you that she would be speaking on it, huh?"

"Yeah, that would have been helpful."

"I'm sorry, man, I didn't realize it would have taken you this long to listen to it. But Sara made me swear not to tell you, or else she would haunt the rest of my life." Warrick gave me a lopsided grin.

I had to grin back, remembering Sara threatening to do that years earlier. "She was always like that," I replied, "All spit and fire, but with the world's biggest heart."

"Who, mom?" James asked. I had forgotten James was still standing in the room.

"Yeah," I replied, still halfway to reality.

"Dad, can I ask you a question?" James proceeded to ask with the utmost caution.

Warrick sensed that this was a big family moment, so he stood up, and told us that he would be going now.

As soon as he was gone, James proceeded on with his question, "Dad, why did mom have to die from cancer?" His eyes started to fill with tears for the mother he loved, but never saw.

I patted to the spot beside me on the couch, and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. "Because she loved you so much, she decided to give up her life so that you could be born," I told him simply. I got the feeling that Sara approved of my answer.

THE END

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SaxophoneForensicsChic05, Emily, adpi24, skyler, CandaceFabulous, cRaZyPiXiE, Missy Jane, Sprinkles143, chimaera-104, krisnina77, Wyatt, ljae, A Bloom, oceanwave, Sara Sidle Stokes, Scuzmoll, spikes_storm, PeTiTeCaT, RK9, SAR, oOoOo, Sally, Maura Tierney, Heidi, felicity, nikkd03, Chaos, drvvh, lilybelle80538, and forensicsfan:

Thank you so much for reading my very heavy, angst ridden story.

Okay, I now I really know how much this story must have affected a lot of you. I was crying when I wrote this last chapter.

Thanks so much again for the reviews, and please review this chapter too.