The Choice, epilogue

Sara and Nick were rewarded with some very curious looks walking down the halls of CSI. They were careful not to openly touch, but both made a concerted effort to walk too closely together, affording them frequent opportunities to brush arms and shoulders. Sara wondered curiously how she'd ever managed to keep her hands to herself. Being at work with Nick, every day, but not necessarily working with one another made the nights together so much hotter.

For Sara, having that forced period of separation for the sake of decorum made her that much more eager to get down with him once they got home and the blinds were closed. She stopped off at Grissom's office while Nick bade her goodbye to wander off in search of Warrick.

Grissom had, for all intents and purposes, been pissed when he found out Sara and Nick had been sent undercover. Once he obtained copies of their reports, he spent the next few days practically in isolation, talking only to Catherine, and only when it was necessary. His demeanor had eventually improved, and by the time it was necessary for Sara and Nick to take a leave of absence in order to testify, things had almost returned to normal around the lab.

Sara invited herself into Grissom's office, pulling the door shut, watching him shoot her a curious look as she began to investigate his shelved collection. He was still on the phone with Sheriff Atwater five minutes later when she sat down in the chair across from his desk with a loud sigh. He frowned at her, and she gave him an apologetic look. He continued to calm Atwater for another minute before rolling his eyes and hanging up practically mid-sentence.

"The-man-whose-time-is-more-important-that-everyone-else's?" Sara asked with a knowing smirk.

"Indeed," Grissom nodded and turned to her, looking over the tops of his glasses at her, though she looked a bit fuzzy that way.

"The beard looks good, boss," Sara noted, grinning because she knew Grissom hated being called "boss."

"How was trial? You're obviously back sooner than we expected you."

"It was short," Sara shrugged. "They got Mackey Charles and Lacy McReynolds on the stand, and before Isabel Shepard or I could even testify, this kid's lawyer had him pleading out so fast your head would spin. I didn't think the DA would take it, but the kid's got life in prison instead of death, so some would say the day ended well."

"I see," Grissom answered, taciturn. Remembering his promise to himself to become more involved, he continued awkwardly. "So...you're doing...well...uh, since the attack?"

"I'm okay," Sara's smile was caught somewhere between reluctant and bitter. "Nick and Catherine convinced me to talk to the psychologist for a while. I see her once a week, sometimes less. It's been better," she nodded, idly running her fingers along some paperwork hanging off the edge of Grissom's desk.

"You were worried you would have to see her more after the trial?" Grissom asked astutely.

"I wondered," Sara confessed. "It wasn't pleasant, listening to those cops testify, and then watching that kid sitting at the defense table, looking angelic. It made me sick."

"Your report said he enhanced his appearance during the attacks by wearing colored contacts?" Grissom asked, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers.

"Red ones," Sara nodded. "Most people who suffer from albinism have dark blue or light pink eyes, very few have the blood-red eyes that have made the stereotype of the albino. But this kid was just sick."

"I see," Grissom said again, thoughtfully.

"So I guess I just stopped by to tell you I was back," Sara moved to leave.

"Sara...wait." Grissom hadn't planned on asking her to stay, but now that he had, he couldn't back down. He promised himself during his recovery that he would try—try harder to bridge this chasm between them. His affection for Sara had been growing, and he hadn't lied to her when he'd said he didn't know what to do about that affection and her advances. But his surgery had given him another chance. He hadn't expected to feel so young, and rejuvenated. Losing thirty pounds helped too, as did the beard and the new glasses and coloring his hair. He'd been more conscious of his looks than he'd ever been before in his life. Top it off with a new sports car and he'd be a man in the throes of a mid-life crisis. But maybe his mid-life crisis didn't require a new sports car. Maybe it only required Sara.

"Yes?" she was looking at him, one eyebrow gracefully arched, her body poised forward in the chair.

"Sara...I've been thinking, about the offer you made me at the beginning of the summer. Dinner? I was wondering if I could still accept that invitation? That is, if it's not too late?" Grissom's practically hopeful gaze hurt Sara more than she wanted it to.

"Grissom," Sara stopped him before he could go on. "I've...I've moved in with Nick."

Grissom's jaw dropped and Sara continued. "I don't know what's going to happen, or if it's even going to work, but we've just connected, and I have to see it through. I have to find out if this is what is right for me. If it's meant to be," she met his eye plainly, almost as if she was daring him to object or contradict.

"I see," Grissom said, a third time.

"I never expected it, or intended for it to happen, and I can't explain it..."

"I'm not sure that you need to," Grissom interrupted. "I think I understand quite clearly. It is, in fact, too late."

"Yes, but it wasn't to spite you," Sara babbled. "What I mean is, I didn't do it just to get back at you or mock you in any way, it just sort of sprung up practically out of nowhere, and I had to lunge for it."

"Well," Grissom was quiet, unaccustomed to such outbursts in his usually silent office.

Sara came around to Grissom's side of the desk, and he stiffened immediately. She leaned over until they were at eye level. "Grissom, you're still my best friend, and I don't want this...thing between me and Nick to come between me and you. If I thought it was going to..."

Sara looked torn, and her she bit her lip, unsure of how to continue.

"There is no need to worry," Grissom reached out as if to touch her face, but withdrew his fingers before the action had been completed. Sara searched his face, looking for sincerity, and Grissom mustered the kindest smile he could.

Sara smiled in return and hugged him intensely, for just a moment, without giving him a chance to relax. She backed up and was half way out of the office before he found his voice again.

"I'll expect to be notified should your living arrangements...change," his odd smile and the cock of his head were uniquely Grissom's, and Sara couldn't believe he'd said it.

"I'll have the change-of-address forms on your desk the moment it happens, if that time ever comes."

"Tell the guys I'll be in the breakroom in a minute. I just have to finish up here," Grissom gestured to his paperwork before she left the room. He couldn't be sure, but he thought that maybe she winked at him before sailing out and down the hall towards the other end of the lab.

When arrived in the break room, he saw his entire team assembled and happy for the first time in longer than he could remember. Warrick and Sara were plainly flirting over who would get the last cup of coffee, Catherine was amused, reading her magazine, and Nick was hurriedly filling out the crossword puzzle, a smile playing at his lips.

Grissom cleared his throat and was inwardly delighted to see four happy faces turn to meet his. He smiled brightly, serving only to encourage his subordinates.

"Another full plate tonight, guys. Warrick and Sara, you have a 419 in Henderson, Nick, you also have a dead body, Room 816 of the Sphere, Vega's there waiting for you, and Catherine, you and I have yet another 419 at 6548 Wimple Street, home of a Mr. and Mrs. Carson Glover."

He stepped back and watched as the team disassembled, Nick and Warrick promising to hook up later, a quick kiss shared by Nick and Sara, and Catherine gathering up her belongings, trying hard not to stare at Warrick's muscled backside. He knew that Catherine had been right, this was his family, and he only benefited from the connection they shared. He stopped by the DNA lab to tell Greg to grab his coat, and the six of them headed out to the parking lot, talking and laughing.

He, too, had been given a Choice, though far less grisly or overt as the one Sara had been given, but a choice nonetheless, and he knew now that he couldn't squander it.

Early the next morning, Sara was sitting up in bed; her reading glasses perched on the bridge of her nose, her hair in a high bun on the top of her head. She had a forensic magazine propped against her thighs, her knees bent. She was trying to multitask by applying her lotion at the same time, not paying attention as Nick padded through the house, locking doors, turning off lights, and checking the windows. He shut the door to the bedroom, and opened the top drawer of their bureau, making sure the loaded gun was where it always was, nestled among his socks, ready for any intruder that dare enter the Stokes-Sidle domain.

He too, noticed Sara for the first time, her lotion now back on the bedside table, her beautiful mouth twisted into a frown as she skimmed through the article. She scratched her leg. The nightie she wore had long, silky spaghetti straps that just wouldn't stay up, so both were around her shoulders, giving him a decent view of her bare breasts underneath. Sitting up so pertly, her glasses and hair making her look just a shade more proper than she was.

"Why Madame Librarian, what reading material did we bring to bed?" Nick's voice was low and sultry. Sara recognized the tone and decided to play along.

"Forensic Science in Everyday Life," she answered shortly, holding it up for him to see briefly, pretending to be much distracted.

"Hmmm, can you direct me to the reference materials?" Nick asked as he crawled up onto the bed, moving over on his knees to where she sat.

"I think you, Mr. Stokes, have a late fine," she didn't look away from her periodical.

"What kind of punishment does that come with these days?" Nick asked, grabbing her hand and falling back onto the bed, pulling her over to lie across him. He met her mouth in a fiery kiss. Reaching up, he dislodged the hair accessory that was keeping her bun in place, making her dark hair curtain around his face.

"Mmmm," Sara replied, taking off her glasses without breaking the kiss and managing to toss them onto the table on Nick's side of the bed. "I think you have enough to make a payment today," she panted when they broke apart. And with that, she turned off the light.

FINIS.

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