A/N: So this is it, the end. :sob: I can't believe I actually finished it, though. And I'm really fairly happy with how it turned out. Since I'm nearing the end, I'd like thank a few people who've made this story not only possible, but a fun experience. Let's start with my most faithful reviewer DaVinci13. Every single chapter, and each and every review made me smile. Madame Lulu/Blaze, who wrote me some of the longest reviews I've ever gotten, which also really cheered me up. CSINut214 who has just been a general inspiration to me, but also someone who I've been able to bounce a lot of really stupid ideas off of, and finally, Maggs, who walked me through my whole let's-give-Grissom-hemorrhagic-fever phase. Mad props to her for talking me out of that tree. So, here goes.
PS: Since it's the last chapter, I decided to make it hella long.
Chapter Fourteen"Benjamin Cavanaugh, open the door. This is the Las Vegas police!" Sophia shouted, Warrick waiting behind her.
"Can I help you?" Ben opened the door and smiled, revealing almost every one of his pearly whites.
"We have a warrant for a sample of your FNA and to take molds of your ear and your left arm."
"Come again?" Ben kept smiling.
"Is your mother or father home?"
"My father doesn't live here. Mom's in North Carolina."
Sophia nodded. "Do you acknowledge that you understand the meaning of this warrant?"
"Yes."
Sophia lifted her head to Warrick in assent. Warrick uncapped a swab and brushed it around the inside of Ben's cheek and took a mold of his arm and ear.
"Don't go anywhere." Sophia warned Ben.
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"Oh, you're home." Tina lounged against the couch.
"Why did you tell Catherine, Tina? Why couldn't you trust my judgment?"
"I do trust you." Tina's eyes widened.
"What were we thinking when we got married?" Warrick shook his head.
"Warrick?"
"We got married at a drive-thru wedding chapel. What do we really know about each other?"
"We know that we love each other." Tina tried.
"What were you thinking?" He yelled. "I told you I would explain it later, but you didn't trust me!"
"Warrick –"
"I can't be here right now." Warrick stormed out of the house.
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Lindsey hugged her teddy bear to her chest and curled up on her bed.
"Lindsey?"
Lindsey sat up. "Oh, Dylan. Come on in."
Dylan sat at Lindsey's desk. "I wanted to check on you."
"Thank you." She said shyly. Dylan looked entirely different from the first time she'd met him. The thick black glasses were gone and she could see his clear blue eyes. His fair hair was slightly tousled and his high-water khakis and starched shirt had been replaced with slouchy jeans a loosely fitted white and blue checked button-down shirt. Swimmer, Lindsey thought, recognizing the lean muscle.
"I uh, would ask you how you're doing, but I think the answer's pretty obvious."
"I'm recovering." She shrugged.
"You know, it'd be okay if you weren't okay."
"I'm fine." She insisted.
"Lindsey…"
"I said I'm fine!" She shouted. "I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm FINE!" Lindsey screamed tearfully.
Dylan stood from the desk and wrapped his arms around Lindsey.
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"I'm coming, I'm coming." Catherine called, tugging open the door. "Warrick."
"Hey. Listen, I wanted to apologize."
"I understand. You were just trying to protect Lindsey the best you knew how."
"How is she doing?" Warrick asked.
"As well as can be expected, I guess." Catherine shrugged.
"Cath, can we talk?" Warrick glanced around nervously.
"Yeah, sure. Let's go to the kitchen."
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"Hey, I got a print off that pipe." Jaqui stopped Nick. "Benjamin Cavanaugh. One prior for attempted rape."
"I'' call him in."
"Oh, and Hodges told me to tell you that Silverwood's colors are green and silver, and they just bought thirty gallons of dark green paint for school repairs."
"So the killer used a pipe from his school, which had gotten green paint on it. Thanks Jacqui."
"Sure thing, Nick."
"Thanks."
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"We found your prints on this pipe." Nick slid a photo across the table to Cavanaugh's lawyer.
"So my client picked up a pipe." The lawyer sneered. "He helps out with repairs for Silverwood High School."
"The pipe was used to kill Amber Carlin." Nick retorted.
"Gloves, CSI Stokes. If the real killer used gloves, of course, my client's prints would be the only ones present." Lawyer McSmarmy stood. "If that's all you have, we'll be going now."
"Sit down, counselor." Brass directed the lawyer. "Your client is a known drug dealer who we believe goes by the alias of Mr. Green. The green paint wasn't there by accident, was it?"
"The transfer was fresh." Nick picked up the narrative. "The paint was to remind Amber to pay up. You didn't mean to kill her. One blow should've knocked her out, right? But you underestimated your strength. You killed her. And when you realized she wasn't breathing, you ran for it. But on your way, you also ran into Amy Paxton. And she startled you, so you hit her. But you weren't going to make the same mistake twice." He tossed a photo of Amy's neck at the lawyer. "He checked her pulse. Explain your client's prints on the murder weapon, and an assault victim. Plus motive and opportunity. You were at the game that night. We got this from the security cameras at the gym's doors." Another photo slid across the table.
Brass grinned. "I always enjoy this part. I was the king of Clue. So I'd like to make an accusation. Mr. Green, in the gym, with the pipe. Benjamin Cavanaugh, you're under arrest for the murder of Amber Carlin, the assault of Amy Paxton –"
"And the attempted rape of a minor." Warrick burst into the interview room.
"Warrick." Brass started.
"I'll explain later."
"And the sexual assault of a minor." Brass added the charge to the list. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…"
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"Gil." Anna said. "I left a beef casserole in the fridge and a slice of pie for each of you. I'll see you later, kay?"
"Yeah. Thanks Anna."
"No problem." Anna glanced around. "Crap. Where did Heather go?"
"I didn't notice she was here."
Anna sighed. "She probably got bored and left. Oh well. Bye."
"See you later." He closed the door behind Anna and went into the kitchen to heat up some lunch.
"How 'bout some tea?" A sultry voice from behind asked.
"Oh, Heather. Anna just left. You can probably still catch her if –"
"I know." Heather purred. "I'm here to see you."
Okay, apparently subtle seduction is out the window and she's going with desperation.
"Heather, I don't know how I can make myself clear. I made a mistake three years ago. Several of them, one of which was accusing you of murder. I'm sorry if I led you on, but I don't foresee any relationship for us."
Heather looked sufficiently chastised. "Oh my God. What am I doing? She turned and fled.
Grissom stood stock-still, completely baffled.
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"So, what did you want to talk about?" Catherine poured herself a gin and tonic.
Warrick was quiet for a long time, but finally found his voice. When Nick was abducted, I realized how short life could be, and I didn't want to miss anything. So I married Tina. The second the minister said 'may I present, for the first time…' my heart clenched. Tina and I had fun, but I don't know what I was thinking. She's not who I want to spend my life with." He took Catherine's hand. "Why didn't you say something last year?" He towered over Catherine by nearly a foot. "I can't stay with her, Catherine. I can't. I want to be here with you and Lindsey."
He's going to leave her for you! Catherine thought giddily. Then she realized who she was. Eddie left you for another woman. Is that who you're going to be, Cath? One of Eddie's music whores?
"I won't let you." She pulled her hand away. "I won't let you leave her for me. I'm not going to be that woman."
"I'm not leaving her for you." Warrick said exasperatedly. "I'm leaving her because I don't love her. Loving you has made me realize that a loveless marriage won't work. Not for me. I'm not leaving her for you."
"You should go." Catherine was shaking with the effort to resist.
"Cath-"
"Please." She teared. "Please, before I change my mind."
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Warrick twisted the ring on his finger. What was this marriage? Wasz it from his heart or was it a knee-jerk reaction to Nick's capture? Warrick twisted the ring one more time before sliding it off his finger it placing it on their bed.
No. Tina's bed.
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Grissom turned off the engine to his Denali and stared at the lab. The one place that had always been good to him. It was routine.
With a resigned sigh, Grissom opened the door to the car and walked towards the lab. He headed to the break room for a cup of coffee.
"You and Grissom are nothing alike. It's impossible to believe that you're related, never mind brother and sister."
Grissom stopped short. Say WHAT? He peeked into the break room to look at Nick's companion. She was tall and blonde, with expertly coiffed hair, though she seemed more serious than Nick's usual type. And he never invited previous girlfriends to the lab.
"Hey Nick." Grissom grabbed his coffee mug from the cabinet about the sink. "Who's your friend?"
"This is Kelli."
Does your friend have a last name? Grissom wanted to ask.
"Kelli Grissom." She looked Grissom squarely in the eye.
"Gil Grissom." He shook her hand.
Nick glanced between the two as though they were playing a tennis match.
"Nice to meet you." She replied politely.
Grissom's expression softened. "Are you my sister?"
"I think so." Kelli whispered.
Grissom didn't hug, and meeting his long lost half-sister didn't change that. "I, uh, Nick, could we have a minute?"
"Yeah. Sure." Nick fled the room.
"I'm not exactly sure what to say here." Grissom flexed his hand.
"Me either." Kelli lingered by the couch.
"It's nice to meet you."
"I think we already covered that." Kelli laughed. "You're different than I expected to be."
Grissom did a double take. "You knew about me?"
"Nicky. He and Warrick said something when they first heard my last name."
"Oh, Grissom. You're back. Great, because I need your help on something." Catherine glanced up at Grissom. "I'm sorry, did I interrupt something?"
"Kelli, let me give you my number and we can get together and talk about this sometime, okay?"
"Sure. Just put your number on here." She handed him her cell phone. Grissom entered his number and then turned to Catherine. "What do you need?"
"I need you to look at something in the layout room." Grissom was halfway out the door before she could finish saying 'layout room.' "Who was that?"
"My sister."
"Your what?" Catherine stopped short.
A slow, small smile spread over Grissom's face. "My sister."
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Sara carefully selected her clothes for the evening. Cotton pajamas with ducks printed on them and a black terrycloth robe. If she wasn't going to Grissom's tonight, then she was going to be comfortable in her misery.
If you're so miserable, go to him. Her mind argued. It's eleven thirty. You can make it there in twenty minutes.
Sara couldn't come up with a counter-argument. All she'd asked for from Grissom was that he try, and now he was. Didn't she owe him the same?
Sara cast aside the robe and pajamas and grabbed the first dress she could lay her hands on. It was a charcoal gray dress, the one Grissom had mentioned she looked nice in. She left the jacket on her bed and grabbed a gauzy black shrug instead. Sara slipped into a pair of low black heels and practically bolted out the door.
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The food had gotten cold. His stomach rumbled angrily, like thunder and lightning in tandem with the flickering candlelight. The Vivaldi Four Seasons CD he'd been playing had run out after the first hour. Since then he'd run through Tschaichovsky's Romeo and Juliet, Elgar's Salut D'Amour and given up on listening to romantic music, listening to Corelli's La Folia and Dvorak's Slavonic Dances.
Grissom glanced at his microwave clock. 11:50.
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"NO!" Sara screamed, beating the steering wheel. She was stuck behind some moron who'd tried to pull a completely illegal u-turn on a busy street on a Friday evening. Said moron had broadsided a Honda Civic with his Hummer.
I hate the world. Sara thought bitterly. She reached for her cell phone. Damn it! My purse is on the table. Fuck. I'm driving without my license and I don't have my phone. Can this day go any worse?
As if perfectly on cue, Sara heard a gush of air and the right side of her car sank. Fuck
Ask and ye shall receive.
"Leave me alone!" She screamed at the roof. "Let me be!" Sara pounded her steering wheel once more for good measure and glanced at the clock.
11:59.
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It's 12:15. She's not coming. Grissom told himself sadly. His stomach, which had previously been loud enough to drown out an AC/DC concert in full swing, stayed quiet. The pasta with cream sauce and mixed roasted vegetables went into the garbage. The bruschetta appetizers followed. And perched on the top of the microwave was the cake he'd spent all afternoon painstakingly making. Grissom was no chef, but he could grill a steak and put together a respectable tray of appetizers.
But in an effort to impress Sara, he'd called his mother on the TTY for help. She'd walked him through the steps of making a white chocolate cake with blueberry topping and two delicate swans made out of meringue, just waiting to be put on the cake. Grissom carefully sealed the swans into a tupperware container and sealed the cake in another container and placed it in the fridge.
He blew out the candles.
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12:22, she noted, flooring the gas and turning off the main road. Sara managed to make it to Grissom's in under ten minutes after getting past the jam. 12:31. She knocked on Grissom's door. "Grissom!"
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"Grissom!" The voice was muffled, but there was no doubt about its owner.
"Sara?" He opened the door to find her standing on his porch, cheeks flushed and eyes wild.
"Grissom, I'm so sorry I'm late." She nearly burst into tears. "I wasn't coming and then I was and please say I'm not too late."
Grissom reached out to her and kissed her. It was the softest, most tender kiss she'd ever been given, and somehow still the most electrifying.
"No. You're not too late." He whispered, voice breaking.
Fifteen years later, she kissed him.