A/N: The letter and newspaper article in this chapter were both written by silverrain, for inclusion in MPL, and they depict events that may or may not happen in Ancient History (What? You thought I was going to tell you the ending to her story? Nope, look elsewhere for that.)

Chapter 129

            Sara was about to tweeze a fiber off a wall when her cell phone rang. Muttering a curse, she pocketed the tweezers and snapped open the offending device. "What?"

            Grissom's amused voice drifted through the phone lines. "Well, hello to you too. What's going on tonight?"

            "Nothing good. A break-in."

            "Ahh, so I picked a good day to take off. Listen, you got a minute?"

            Sara surveyed her surroundings. Nick was on the other side of the room, using an ALS and trying to pretend he wasn't eavesdropping on her; there had been no injury to a human and thus there were no ME workers or paramedics in the room; and the nearest policeman was wandering in circles outside of the house. "Yeah, I can give you a couple minutes, but this better be good. And don't you dare ask me for a refresher course on how to change diapers or something."

            "Hadn't even occurred to me. No, actually, this is about the mail."

            "The mail? Huh?"

            "The baby had a hyper day and I just got around to opening it now . . . So guess who we got a package from?"

            Sara sighed. "Just tell me, Gil. I don't feel like playing Jeopardy right now." Then, in spite of herself, she said, "Was it my mom?"

            With a chuckle, Grissom said, "Nope. Want to guess again, or do you want me to tell you?"

            "Spill it, bugman."

            "Ok. We got a big manila envelope from Meghan Carter. But wait," he added when he heard the sound of her mouth opening. "That's not the really interesting part. Guess what it says on the return address?"

            Sara gamely attempted a guess. "A picture of her drawing her gun on Nick?"

            "That would be funny too, but no. It says, and I quote: 'M. and H. Caine.'"

            "WHAT?" Sara yelped, drawing Nick's attention. "Caine? Like they got married?"

            "Exactly. You want me to open it?"

            "Yeah. Hold on one sec, lemme get Nick off my back and go outside." Sara put a hand over the phone, turned around, and uttered a few sharp words to Nick. Grissom heard footsteps, and then a few seconds later Sara spoke again. "Ok. All clear, I'm sitting on the front stoop. Crack it open and tell me what's going on!"

            "Ok," Grissom said a minute later. "There's two things in here – a newspaper clipping and something that looks like one of those annoying Christmas letters people send out."

            "Read me the clipping," she ordered.

            "Coming right up. Ok, it . . . No! Galina, no. Don't stick your finger under there!" There was a screech from the baby, then the sound of Grissom sighing heavily. "Hold on, Sara."

Sara pictured him picking the baby up and settling her against his chest, an image that was confirmed when she heard heavy baby breathing coming through the phone a few second before Grissom spoke again. "Sorry. Like I said, she's having a torture-dad day. Ok so I was going to read the news clipping." He cleared his throat, unfolded the paper, and began to read:

Chaos In Courtroom #9

The ultimate story of truth, betrayal, sacrifice, passion and love.

By Tamara Hammond

In St. John's Cathedral in Miami, Florida, a wedding is being performed. As in any ordinary ceremony, there are the usual tensions, traumas, and emotional overloads. Once the ceremony begins, both bride and groom manage to make it through without any breakdowns. Until the bride's vows, that is. 'Til death do we part,' she repeats after the priest, and then they both break into tears.

Why the inexplicable amount of emotion at this seemingly ordinary wedding? Why is everyone in the audience crying? Because this is no everyday wedding, and the couple, Meghan and Horatio Caine, are not your everyday newlyweds.

It all began close to seven months ago, when Special Agent Meghan Carter, FBI, came to Miami in pursuit of a serial killer. Agent Carter is a profiler and behavioral scientist, a psychologist who uses her knowledge of the criminal mind (information gathered from serial killers, bombers, and rapists who have already been apprehended) to solve serial cases. In order to perform her duties, she is required to work in close conjunction with the Crime Scene Investigation department of the local police. Enter Lieutenant Horatio Caine, head of Crime Scene Investigation, or CSI as it is more commonly known, for the Miami-Dade Police. After a whirlwind three months working together on various crimes around the Miami-Dade area, they began to show signs of blossoming romance. But things suddenly began to turn for the worse. Agent Carter's sister died of a gunshot wound from Samuel Hart, a CSI working for Lieutenant Caine and the serial murderer Agent Carter was looking for. Carter's niece was found three days later in a creek, apparently drowned.

At this time Carter left the state, going to New Mexico, where she stayed with a friend. Lieutenant Caine, as head CSI, stayed behind to process the scene, only to find that Carter had allegedly killed her own sister. A three hundred dollar bounty was placed on Carter with a warrant for her arrest. Caine finally managed to come into contact with Carter, who told him that she was coming home. The day after she arrived, she was taken into custody and put into Florida State Women's Penitentiary.

As Carter waited out the two weeks to her trial, Caine worked furiously on the crime scene. In addition to the two bullets that it was thought Carter originally fired, two more were found embedded in a wall, meaning that four shots were fired. It was then discovered that Samuel Hart had duplicated Carter's gun and shot Theresa Carter, Meghan's sister.

In the courtroom, Caine presented the new evidence to the jury, who then overturned the sentence for Carter and placed it on Hart. Hart, furious, overpowered a security guard and took his gun. He confessed to being the serial killer that Carter had been after, stating that he'd been trying to get her off his back for years. He then pulled Lieutenant Caine out of the stand, took aim, and fired.

It was then that something truly amazing happened. As the dust cleared, Horatio Caine was still standing, completely unhurt. Pure miracle? Complete miss?

It was complete love. Meghan Carter had run between Caine and Hart, taking two bullets to the right shoulder. The doctors who later treated Carter told us that the subclavian artery had been completely severed, and also stated that if Alexx Woods, the medical examiner for the Miami-Dade police and a former RN, hadn't been there, Carter would have bled to death on the courtroom floor. Caine was later heard to be saying "Thank God for Alexx."

Thank God for Alexx, indeed. Carter slipped into a coma, and there was nothing left to do but pray.

One month later, Carter woke to tumultuous applause from the nurses on duty, who had been there every step of the way. She was released that evening into Caine's care, where she recovered very quickly.

I attempted to contact the couple at home, with little success. When I finally did get a hold of them, my first question for Carter was about her murderous co-worker. Her only reply was 'The scorpion likes living near you, where it can do the most damage.'

When I came to the most important question of all, 'Why?', she simply smiled and said 'Why not?'

The sound of Grissom clearing his throat came again. "That's the whole article," he said, "and the letter looks like it's twice as long. I refuse to read that over the phone too."

There was no response on the other end of the phone for a long second, then Sara's voice muttered, "No shit! Chelsea and Theresa are dead? That's crazy, Gris, and now Meg and Horatio are married? My god."

She sounded breathless, and Grissom supposed she probably was. "My thoughts exactly," he said with a small laugh. "When do you think you're going to get home? I'm gonna be a good boy and not read the letter 'til you get here."

Sara checked her watch. It was 6:45 in the morning. Shift didn't officially end until 8, but she and Nick were almost done with their case. Besides, no one who worked with her was going to mind if she said she was going to be on pager for the last hour. "Hmmm. Give me about half an hour to get everything finished here and transported to the lab, then I'll head home."

She heard Galina coo, then Grissom's voice came back over the line. "Ok. See you then. Oh, and Sara?"

"What?"

"Hurry up!"

*********************

            Sara breezed in the front door exactly thirty minutes later, her car keys dangling half out of her pocket as though she'd shoved them in quickly. "Where is it?" was the first thing she said to Grissom, who was sitting on the couch making silly faces at the baby.

            "Breakfast bar," he answered without looking up. "Your turn to read out loud to me."

            Sara grumbled about demanding almost-husbands, then snatched the letter off of the counter. "Ok, you ready?"

            "Ready as I'll ever be. I can't wait to find out what Meghan has to say about everything."

            "Ok," Sara said, then scanned the first paragraph and began to read.

Hello all!

Hey, what's up, Buenos Dias, Güten Tag, bonjour, and just about anything else I can think of. Life's been hell for the last few months, and I am therefore writing to bitch about it. I'm currently sitting at home typing a letter to you, because I am bored and my husband won't let me out of the house.

And yes, you heard me correctly. Husband. I'm married. Score one for me!

Anyways, thought I'd update you on the situation. As I said, I am currently married to the most wonderful man on earth (except for maybe my dad, who has also been great about not slapping me across the head after the little courtroom fiasco two months ago. But I'll get to that next.) and am now…um…two months pregnant, I think. But Horatio doesn't know that yet. Hold on. I have to rescue the cat from behind the desk. I found her a week ago. She's this skinny, scruffy little snip of a cat, with an attitude like you wouldn't believe. I think I'll name her Sara. And don't you dare give me that look, Sidle.

Anyways, now that the kitty is rescued and is terrorizing the dogs, what was I going to say? Oh, the courtroom thing. Sit down and get yourself a drink, folks. This is a very long and drawn-out ordeal.

Three months ago I was at work when I got a call from Theresa, who was at home. She tells me her (ex) boyfriend is beating her up and she thinks he's got a gun. I immediately leave, after telling Horatio and Sam (A new CSI), who calls the police. They go with me ("The guy has a gun and he's three times your size. Getting you hurt isn't an option." That's what Horatio said, I swear!) and we find out that he does indeed have a gun. A rather ominous-looking shotgun, in fact.

I won't bore you with details, but the entire point of the matter is that after trying to reason with him, the guy levels the gun and fires at Theresa and Chelsea (At which point Theresa drops dead), about the same time I attempt to blow him away. I then pull a runner to New Mexico, and Horatio stays behind. Everything that happens from here on out until the courtroom is hearsay from my dear husband. Alexx, the ME, found that it was actually a bullet from the type of gun I use that killed Theresa. Horatio had Calleigh run angles on everything, and it was discovered that I had apparently killed my own sister.

Three days after Theresa died, Chelsea was found dead in a creek about two miles south of her house. She'd run out of the house when the bullets started flying. By now, there's three hundred dollars on my head and I'm wanted for third-degree murder. Such fun. Horatio finally manages to talk to me, and I go back to Miami, where the cops pick me up and I spend the next two weeks in jail awaiting a trial. Meanwhile, Horatio is working frantically to find something that proves me innocent. He has Calleigh run the angles again, and it is discovered that they're a bit off for me to have shot Theresa. Instead, it came from Sam, who had been standing behind me and to my left. Horatio went back to Theresa's house and found my two bullets in the wall. Now we have four bullets instead of the two I'd used, and here we run into a problem.

Horatio somehow manages to get a warrant and finds another gun exactly like mine in Sam's house. He does a ballistics test on it and it matches the one that killed Theresa. Somehow he managed to duplicate my gun barrel. His bullet and mine are almost exactly alike except for one small difference that was said to be damage from the ricochet. It was really just Sam being stupid and messing up part of the mold he used to duplicate my gun.

The day they were supposed to lock me up and throw away the key Horatio comes up to the stand and brings the new evidence to light, thus taking the blame off of me and putting it on Sam, who knocks out a security guard and takes his gun. He then confesses to close to 100 murders, including Theresa and Chelsea. Turns out he's the whole reason I'm in Miami in the first place. He also tells us how he framed me (made a mold of my gun barrel and changed his) and why he did it: To get me off his back so he could murder in peace. The bastard.

Everything else after the confession is actually kind of funny to me, although Horatio would probably say otherwise. Of course, the difference in perspective might have something to do with it. After all, when you're lying flat on your back bleeding to death, things are going to seem a bit more humorous than they used to.

Sam pulled Horatio out of the stand and tried to shoot him, and I jumped in front of Horatio. Damn good thing, too, because those two bullets that suddenly found themselves in my shoulder would have gone straight to his heart. That wouldn't have been fun for either of us. Of course, complete and total rupture of the subclavian artery wasn't exactly what I had in mind either, but who cares, I'm obviously still alive, albeit in a great deal of pain. Long story short, I spent a month in a coma, another one high on morphine most of the time while trying to regain use of my arm again, one planning my wedding, and there you have it. I've been married for two weeks now, and I'm loving every minute.

Anyways, enough about me. My informant (who shall not be named for his own safety *coughNickcough*) tells me that Sara and Gris have a kid and are getting married soon. Hopefully I am forgiven enough for not remembering to invite them to my wedding to be allowed at said event. Besides, I want to see Gris doing the 'besotted daddy' deal. That has to be disgustingly cute. And Sara will probably want to meet her namesake. She's actually a very pretty cat. Once I fatten her up there'll be a calico jaguar going after Horatio, who appears to have suddenly become a six foot tall scratching post. There's now several cat-shaped dents in the living room wall because of this. But, alas, Jung and Freud (the dogs) will be so terribly sorry to see their new chew-toy go away, so I might as well take them too. They might trip over their ears, though (They're bassets and have the biggest ears I've ever seen), so it'll be worth it. 

Gotta go now, Horatio's home and he looks like he could use some serious smooch time. Not that I blame him. Life's been hectic lately. How much says he's out cold once I tell him we're gonna be parents?

Oh, and the other thing in here is the article that was written on the whole thing in addition to the wedding announcement. I thought it was hilarious. I like the sub-headline (or whatever you call it) best. 'The ultimate story of truth, betrayal, sacrifice, passion and love,'. Ha. What a load of bull. I just happen to love him a lot. Nothing special.

                                                                        Meg  

            Sara turned the paper over to check for a P.S. but found nothing. With a groan, she hiked herself up to sit on the counter and continued to stare at the missive.

            "Ho-ly crap," Grissom said quietly. "That sounds like something out of a TV show."

            Sara, still unsure of whether to be happy about the marriage or upset about the deaths that led up to it, gave Grissom a weak smile and a shake of her head. "Yeah, like 'CSIs of Our Lives' or something, huh?"

            "Makes me think," Grissom ventured, laying the baby over one shoulder as he stood up and approached Sara, "just how lucky we are. Neither of us had to get hurt to get the other to prove that we love each other. We're both in fine health, and we have a new daughter, where Meghan has just lost the closest thing she had to one. We're definitely inviting them to the wedding, Sara."

Moving a little closer, he put his free arm around Sara's shoulders and dropped a kiss on the top of her head, then changed the subject. "Would you do that for me?" he asked jokingly.

            "What? Take a bullet?" Sara pondered this for a moment, though she supposed that the answer wasn't in much doubt. "Probably," she admitted quite seriously, not looking at him.

            Grissom was taken aback. "I would never want you to do that, Sara! If you did that, and we both survived, I might kill you myself for doing something so utterly dumb."

            Sara didn't answer this, only said, "Would you do it for me?"

            Grissom looked taken aback. "I . . . uh. Well, I . . . yes," he finished simply.

            Sara smiled and shook her head. "Thanks pot, the kettle will keep that in mind." With that, she patted his cheek lightly, kissed the top of Galina's head, and headed for the shower.