Disclaimer: CSI is not mine to fool with but if the writers would hurry the GSR along this wouldn't be a problem.

I know I'm supposed to be doing school work here, but it was too tempting so I went ahead and finished the story. Don't tell my mom. She thinks I'm almost done with my essay but really I have like three more pages to write. SHH. Also I have the first two seasons on dvd now so I'll give you two guesses as to what I've been watching the past week. After this though I swear I will write my essay. Pinky promise. Now if my pinky falls off does it still count?

Grissom came to in stages. First, he started to hear a low hum, then the smell of bleach and other cleaners. He lifted his left arm to rub his eyes and out of habit reached for his glasses, but his hand grabbed nothing but air.

Focusing his gaze his eyes swept over the hospital room. It was a double suite but the other bed was empty. In fact Grissom was completely alone. A glance at the clock told him that graveyard was just starting, but still… He thought that she would have at least…

Even though he was horizontal it felt as though his heart dropped to his toes. He never would've imagined he could have a reaction like this. As if Sara was his to feel possessive about. Actually he should be glad he was alone right now. Times like these were rare even if he was in the hospital.

But as the night went on and the nurse came in to check his vitals and the doctor telling him he could leave the next morning, being alone was exactly the opposite of what he wanted. He tried telling himself that the sinking feeling was just a chemical reaction, but never had he felt so hollow. Like the blood refused to enter his heart and he would never be full again.

It was then Grissom knew he'd fallen for Sara. His only fear was that if he ever hit the bottom of the hole he'd dug, he might never be able to get up again.

The following afternoon Grissom decided to pay a little visit to graveyard. He had learned from Sofia that Sara had taken leave, but hadn't specified how long or where she was going. But Grissom had an ace up his sleeve. If anyone knew where Sara was, Greg did.

He found the man in question in the break room.

"Greg, just the guy I was looking for."

Greg kept his eyes on the file in his hands. "Aren't you supposed to be on paid leave?"

"I'm not here to work. I'm just here to visit. " As Grissom sat Greg stood, closing the folder.

"You know I'd love to sit and chat, but I got a, um, 4-73 out on the Strip."

Grissom tilted his head back with the movement of his eyebrows. "Wow, tornado debris. Hmm… must have missed that on the news at noon. Usually I watch channel six but maybe they did a report on channel three."

Greg sighed and gestured helplessly with his hands.

"Come on, not even for a man who can only use one arm?" They both glanced at the sling holding his right arm.

Already Grissom could see he was winning him over. "You know she's going to kill me, right?"

He smiled, "Yeah and she could probably make it look like an accident too."

Groaning, Greg sat back down. "She went home."

"But her apartment…"

"Not that home. Sara said she was going to stay with an aunt or cousin outside of San Francisco."

"Thanks Greg."

"Yeah, yeah. You owe me."

Sara could count on one hand the amount of times she visited her mother's grave. She would try to tell herself that it was because she never had the time, but the truth was every time she would visit it left a bad taste in her mouth. Mostly she would come out of guilt more than grief.

Today, though, was different. It was time she stopped running from her past and trying to fix her childhood vicariously through other victims.

Technically it wasn't a graveyard, but it was where her mother's ashes were buried. Twenty years ago, after her mother was sentenced to prison, she took her own life. The state had allowed her to witness the burial as specified in a will her mother had written only days before.

A stone marker was placed on the hilltop, but surprisingly wasn't overgrown with foliage. There was even a small bouquet of wildflowers, partially wilted, though no more than a couple days old. Sara guessed from her aunt Shannon who only lived a mile or so down the road.

Shannon wasn't actually her aunt, merely an old friend of her mothers who would take care of her or watch her when need be, i.e. prolonged hospital visits, extra house guests—artifacts from her parents hardcore hippie days.

When Sara had been turned over to the state Shannon tried to gain custody but was denied when old drug charges were brought up. She'd stayed in touch though and would always be a mere phone call away if she needed.

Sara sat a few feet in front of the marker and read the engraving.

Death is always and under all circumstances a tragedy,

For if it is not, then it means that life itself has become one.

Laura Sidle 1948-1987

It seemed almost ironic that with all her anti-government protests the quote she stated most often came from Teddy Roosevelt himself. Sara smiled softly and expelled a sigh. But then her expression turned somber as she glanced past the marker, down the slope that crawled into the sea.

Though there was no one nearby, she spoke in a hushed tone. "I'm sorry I haven't been by much…" Sara continued speaking for the next half hour, with only the rustling of trees and birds to answer back. "… I guess what I'm trying to say is I'm sorry for holding you—us—back. All those times you'd pack the car and try to take us away, I'd stop you. Stall until it got too late. But I think it's time for me to stop feeling guilty about it. Whatever happened happened. And there's nothing I can do about it. This drove me crazy for so long; not being in control. But, now that's all going to change."

She stood her hand resting on the headstone a moment before she turned back to the trail leading to the main road. What met her should have surprised her, but it didn't.

"Grissom…"

His gaze captured hers and they stood silently, before Sara joined him against his SUV.

"Let me guess; Greg?"

"Who else?"

Her lips tilted to one side. A stillness surrounded them. The whole world seemed to be holding its breath.

"Guzman, uh, died on the way to the hospital. Greg's wounds were superficial. Nick and Warrick found a jackpot of evidence in the shed behind the house. Hairs, pictures—"

"You didn't seriously come all this way just to tell me this did you?"

He paused for a moment, and then whispered, "No."

"So, why did you come?"

"I missed you."

Sara twisted her neck to look at him. He was staring off into the distance and she wondered if he was going to change the subject, continue on as if he'd never said anything. But this time he turned his head to fix his eyes on hers.

"Sara—"She waited as he sorted through his thoughts. "I'm not very good at this—this relationship stuff." He seemed so unsure and her heart went out to him as she could see more prominently the bags under his eyes.

She stood in front of him to hold his face in her hands. With her thumbs she softly massaged his eyelids closed, while she rubbed his temples with her index fingers. When she dropped her hands to his shoulders a few moments later he seemed more relaxed, but was still irresolute.

Grissom then dug in his pocket, his eye lighting when he found what he was looking for. "I know I don't always say the right thing, but maybe this will help explain."

He then pulled out a gold chain with a honey colored stone dangling from the end. As Grissom clasped the necklace around her neck Sara examined it more closely. In the center was the tiniest of flies.

She smiled and laced her hands around his neck, "Doubt that the stars are fire, doubt that the sun doth move…"

"…doubt truth to be a liar, but never doubt I love."

And right there under the sunny Californian sky, with his arms encircling her, she murmured, "Always."

The End.

Thanks for reading. Be on the look out for a new story or maybe a sequel in the following months.