A/N: I owe a debt of gratitude to the PwF chatters for tossing ideas my way, and especially to Alison, whose idea I used. Only one more chapter after this!
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Sara stared off into space as Warrick navigated the vehicle through the darkness. The segment of Interstate 215 they were currently traveling afforded of a panoramic view of "the Strip." A bittersweet sense of finality descended over her as she gazed intently at the bright lights of the city. Though there were many things Sara disliked about Las Vegas, there were an equal number of reasons to miss it. It possessed a fascinating sort of unique charm, beautiful in its own unabashedly gaudy way. The surrounding desert and mountains composed a radically different ecosphere than what she had known growing up in the fertile bay area of California.
"You're awfully quiet," Warrick observed.
"Just thinking."
"I still can't get it into my head that this your last night working with me."
"Me neither," Sara said softly. "I wish there were some other way."
Warrick felt the need to clear the air. "You and me…" he began seriously, "we got off on the wrong foot, but I'm glad we put it behind us. I just want you to know that I've really come to respect you. I'm going to miss you."
"Thanks," Sara's smile displayed her conflicting emotions. "That means a lot to me. It didn't take me long to figure out why you were Grissom's favorite CSI. You're a great CSI and a great person. I'll miss you, too." It was amazing how liberating resignation could be. She and her companion each felt free to speak their minds.
"I doubt it helps, but I do understand why you feel like you have to go. You seem to get thrown under the bus no matter what you do."
"It does help. I, um, I can't fight it any more, you know? I don't have the strength. It's coming from too many directions at once."
"You're one of the strongest people I've ever known," Warrick responded sincerely.
"I don't feel like it. I'm kind of worried that people will think this is some kind of temper tantrum because I didn't get my way, I didn't get the promotion. But that's not it. The promotion thing is just a symptom of a larger problem. A problem that never seems to get any better. And anymore, I just don't see any reason to believe it ever will."
"Anyone that would think that doesn't know you very well."
"Thank you. The way I see it, there's only one thing I can do to improve my situation, and doing it means that I have to give up on something that I've wanted very badly for a very long time. It's the hardest thing I've ever had to do." Sara fought back the tears that threatened her. While she was not one to share her feelings with a coworker, she had kept so much inside for so long that it was a relief that Warrick seemed to understand.
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Grissom stood in the layout room, his puzzle spread out before him. He studied each article of evidence carefully, trying to make sense of it. He had hoped that his complex case would distract him from thoughts of Sara, but that theory didn't seem to be panning out well. The last three and a half years played through his mind like a bad movie. And worst of all was the ending.
"Have you talked to her tonight?" Brass asked as he entered the layout room and came to stand beside Grissom.
Grissom bit his lip to stop himself from asking Brass who he meant. He knew that playing dumb would not be an effective strategy. Jim would see right through it. "At the beginning of the shift."
"What? To give her an assignment?" Watching his friend's face closely, Brass knew he had guessed correctly. He couldn't help but shake his head. "You're hopeless."
There was an audible weariness in Grissom's voice. "I don't need this, Jim."
"Oh, I think you do. You're just going to let her walk out of your life without even trying to change her mind?"
"I tried." Grissom prayed his cell phone would ring and get him out of this conversation.
"Try harder," Jim commanded.
"I tried," Grissom repeated forcefully. "She wouldn't listen."
"She's been offering her heart to you on a platter for years, and you rejected it. Now, you could still have it, but you're going to have to work for it. Now you have to earn it."
The ringing of the phone answered Grissom's prayer—a newly discovered case that would require immediate attention.
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Sara slept until two in the afternoon. She had planned to drive to Sacramento the following day, but since she was awake, she decided to get a head start on her new life. She was still exhausted, and reasoned she'd probably have to stop for the night about halfway through her journey. The eight hour drive was easily doable in a day. If she waited until the next day, she could save herself a night in a motel; but now that she was in travel mode, she wanted to get started. Throwing the last few items into her car, she dropped the keys off at the apartment manager's office and hit the road.
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Returning to the lab just after eight in the morning, Grissom knew that he was too late to catch Sara. Inwardly, he felt a small sense of gratitude—he wouldn't have known how to say goodbye to her anyway. He cursed his inability to express himself to her, for they were leaving so much unsaid. The words of T.S. Eliot came to Grissom's mind. This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang but a whimper. Indeed that was the way his world was ending.
Grissom tossed and turned all day. He was growing increasingly sickened by the possibility of never again seeing the brown-eyed beauty whose intelligence and personality had captured his heart. How was it that he had given up so easily after figuring out just two weeks ago "what to do about this"?
At 4:15 pm, he sat upright in the bed. The solution had come to him like a bolt of lightning. He knew now what he had to do. The part he found most interesting was that it was not only what he had to do, it was he wanted to do. He'd wanted it for years, but hadn't allowed himself to have it. And it was what she wanted as well. He had let fear and obstinacy rule his life for far too long. God, what a fool he'd been!
He reached for his phone and dialed Sara's number, only to find her line was disconnected. As he fumbled with his belt buckle, he used his speed dial function. Jim Brass answered as Grissom buttoned his shirt. "Jim, I need you to do something for me."
"Slow down, Gil."
"I need to know where Sara is. Can you find out when and where she last used her credit card?"
Brass chuckled. "Is this the model citizen Gil Grissom asking me to bend the rules?"
"Desperate times call for desperate measures."
"I'll see what I can do. You gonna be home?"
"No," Grissom answered. "I'll be on the freeway."
"Wait. Where are you going?"
"Sacramento," Grissom stated evenly, as if the answer was obvious.
"Before you have an address?"
"This can't wait any longer, Jim."
Brass was pleased to hear the new- found determination in Grissom's voice. "Good for you. I'll call you on your cell as soon as I get something."
TBC
