TITLE: No More Death, No More Murder

AUTHOR: Micky Fine

DISCLAIMER: You know who are mine and who aren't. I am making absolutely no money from this (just too bad).

ARCHIVE: You want it, just ask. I love giving things away .

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well guys, this is it. The end of this fic. I've become very attached to it and I want to thank EVERYONE who has read it, and especially those who have posted reviews. You made my first expedition into CSI fic land very enjoyable. I will return. I am calling this a chapter but there are some more "epilogue-ish" elements at the beginning. I just had to put them in there. Once again thank you to everyone.

Reviews always welcome.

Catherine smiled as she walked down the hallway. Everything was almost back to normal. Or as normal as things could be when you dealt with dead bodies every day. Sara had been out of the hospital for a week. Unfortunately, she couldn't work quite yet because of her bullet wounds and because she had a couple broken bones in her foot the doctors hadn't noticed until after she woke up.

However, just because she couldn't work didn't mean she couldn't come to the lab. Catherine had in fact held the door open for Sara as she had swung into the building on her crutches. It was nice to see her workaholic side had not disappeared.

Catherine entered the locker room so she could grab her lunch. As she opened the door an unexpected small piece of white paper, folded in half came fluttering down. As she bent down to pick it up she saw her name scrawled on the front side of the folded paper. She opened it and read:

Catherine-

Looks like I did get that Get Out of Violent Death Free card after all. Just took me awhile to find it. I know you were worried that I felt alone before everyone showed up. I wasn't. I knew that you would all figure it out, even if you didn't have me to help. Thank you for everything you did.

-Sara

As Catherine folded the sheet of paper she smiled and wiped away a stray tear that wandered from her watery eyes.

Greg bopped his head and began humming as he entered the trace lab. He'd just seen Sara in the hallway on her crutches. She had smiled at him and chatted for a moment before going to get some coffee. It had put him in an infinitely good mood. He flipped on his stereo as he walked toward the microscope. He had a left slide on there before he had gone on break and he was eager to finish looking at it.

However, when he gazed through the eyepiece he didn't see the fibers he'd been looking at before. Instead he saw a something white with a black streak on it. He pulled away from the microscope and pulled out a folded piece of white paper with his name on it. Unfolding it he read:

Greg-

Thanks for coming to visit me and for everything you did on the case. And now, because you were so nice, I'm gonna make you a deal. You give me back my little black dress and I'll wear it after shift and let you show me off before we have dinner. Understand this is not a date, just two friends going out. Got that?

-Sara

PS Your slide is in its container.

Jim Brass was disturbed from his thoughts when he heard a loud whoop coming from the trace lab. He looked in the room and saw Greg moonwalking across the lab floor. Shaking his head, he continued on to his office.

With a sigh, he flopped in his chair and turned to look at his desk. In the center, was a small piece of white paper folded with his name on it.  He picked it up and read:

Brass-

Thanks for the first-aid. And for knowing when not to keep a secret. And for being a cop.

-Sara

He smiled and placed the paper in a desk drawer and then went back to work.

Warrick opened the cupboard in the break room and pulled out his mug. He had just seen Sara coming out and she had told him the coffee was fantastic and that he had to have some. As he looked into his mug, he was puzzled to find a small piece of white paper, folded in half, stuck inside the mug. He pulled it out and read:

Warrick-

Thank you for reading my mind (well, kind of). You're the best interviewer I could ask for. Tell the guys at the casino I'll come and visit real soon. And then you'll have to play for me.

-Sara

"Coffee," he muttered incredulously.

Nick stuck his hand into the pocket of his jeans and was surprised when he felt the texture of a piece of paper. Pulling it out he was, puzzled by the small piece of white paper, folded in half. It was somewhat crumpled from being in his pocket. Smoothing it out, he read:

Nick-

Thank you for saving my life and for all the stuff you did with the case. You can speak in that sweet southern twang of yours for me anytime.

-Sara

PS Bet you didn't know I could pick your pocket.

Grissom was in a good mood as he walked into his office. Sara had come to visit the lab today and she had come to see him first. She had told him that she wasn't even going to touch a file, even though she was itching to. She promised she wouldn't overdo it and that she was just coming to chat with people and wouldn't interrupt their work. Too much. He had just seen her in the hallway and she had informed him that she was going home. She had said her shoulder had been exceedingly sore between the crutches and the bullet wound.

He stopped in front of his desk, surprised, to see that in the midst of the organized chaos was a small piece of white paper folded in half with his name on it. He recognized the handwriting immediately and rushed to unfold it. Quickly, he read:

Gris-

Come by my place when you're done shift. We need to talk.

-Sara

Grissom stood at the apartment door and was about to knock again when the door was pulled open. He was surprised to see Sara in her bathrobe; hair pulled up into a towel, her crutches safely nestled under each arm.

"Sorry," she said breathlessly, "I just got out of the tub. Mind if I go get dressed?"

"Take your time," he said, somewhat shocked.

Sara disappeared back into what he knew was the bedroom and he surveyed the apartment. Nothing had changed since he had been here to investigate. Even the pictures of Sara with Jake were in the same position. Not wanting it to appear like he was snooping he sat down on the couch and picked up a forensic magazine. He was idly flipping through it when Sara returned.

"Sorry," she apologized again.

"It's fine," he said, "you're entitled to take a bath in your own home."

"I should hope so," she said with a small smile.

"So, what's this about? You said we needed to talk."

"Yeah, I have some questions for you, but I'm not quite ready to ask them so..."

She trailed off and silence reigned for several minutes. Suddenly remembering the bag in his hand, Grissom handed a paper bag to Sara.

"Greg gave this to me when he found out I was coming to visit. He was very insistent."

Sara looked curious as she opened the bag and then smiled when she saw the contents.

"What is it?" Grissom asked.

"My dress."

Grissom nodded. He had seen the outfit in the lab and he had to admit to himself that he wanted to see her wearing it. Sara placed the bag on the floor and then began to study her hands. Feeling a need to break the silence, Grissom asked one of the questions that had been gnawing at him since he had visited her apartment.

"Why do you take pictures?"

"What?"

"The pictures in your bedroom, why do you take them?"

"I guess it reminds me that there are still good things in life. When I take a picture of a little kid buying a balloon it helps me to deal with the horrible things I see at work. Does that make sense?"

"Yes, it does. Perfect sense. They're beautiful pictures by the way."

"Thank you," Sara said as she flushed.

Glancing around, Grissom once again noticed the picture of Sara with her arms around a young girl. The girl he now knew was Sara's friend, Ashley's daughter. He was again struck by the similarity between Sara and the little girl.

"She looks like you."

"Who?"

"Ashley's daughter."

Sara smiled, "That's Bridget. She should look like me."

"Why do you say that?"

Sara looked thoughtful for a moment as she mentally debated. After a moment one side had obviously won and she began to speak.

"Ashley is infertile. So I donated some eggs for her and her husband. Therefore, Bridget is my biological daughter."

Grissom was shocked at the selfless act that Sara had done for her friend. Sara gave him a nervous look. He smiled and her face eased. He turned back to look at the photo of Sara and Bridget but his eye was caught instead by the picture of Sara and Jake.

"Why didn't you tell me? Or even the team?"

"About what? Jake?"

"Yes."

"Because...because...because he's a good friend. And his fiancée had been keeping him in check."

"His fiancée?"

"Yeah, Melissa suffers from schizophrenia. She and Jake met while undergoing treatment. She takes her meds religiously and she makes sure Jake takes them too. But when he went to Africa she couldn't go with him. He went off his meds and came after me."

"Why is that? Why didn't he go to his fiancée?"

"The doctors aren't sure. Apparently I become his mental focus when he suffers from his illness. It seems that I was a major event in his life that he keeps returning to, it was while he was dating me that this disease showed up."

"Do they know what it is?"

"Some form of paranoia combined with schizophrenia is the diagnosis."

"I see."

There was silence for a moment as Grissom digested the astounding new information he had just learned about Sara. It was shocking how little he knew about her, even after he had spent so much time with her.

"Gris?"

"Yes?"

"Would you like to go out for dinner?"

"Right now?"

"No, but you said in the hospital that..."

"I know what I said. And I meant it."

"I'm glad. So as soon as my foot heals and I have dinner with Greg," Grissom shot her a look, "don't ask, I would be pleased to join you for dinner."

She smiled. He smiled back and then surprised them both by pulling her into a warm embrace. As she rubbed her cheek against his chest she muttered softly, "And you're important to me to."

Fin