Author's Notes: To follow.
Letting Go
by Kristen Elizabeth
She may be the reason I survive
The why and wherefore I'm alive
The one I'll care for through the rough and ready years
Me, I'll take her laughter and her tears
And make them all my souvenirs
For where she goes I've got to be
The meaning of my life is she
- Elvis Costello
To Whom It May Concern:
Please accept this letter as my formal notice of resignation from the Las Vegas Police Department Crime Lab, effective immediately.
I would like to use this opportunity to highly recommend Catherine Willows to permanently take over supervision of the graveyard shift.
Thank you.
Sincerely, Gil Grissom
"Sir?"
Grissom opened his eyes and saw the flight attendant looking down on him. It took him another second to notice the drink cart. "Oh. Um…tomato juice. Please."
By the time she'd poured his drink, Grissom remembered that he didn't like tomato juice. Sara did. He drank it anyways.
The man sitting next to him in business class glanced over. "First trip to England?"
Grissom inclined his head. He'd been several places around the world for various conferences (a good thing, as it meant his passport was up-to-date), but never to England.
"I come about once or twice a year. I'm in international sales." He produced a business card and held it out until Grissom took it. "You ever need anything shipped overseas, we're the best."
"Thanks." Grissom put the card into his pocket, hoping he remembered to throw it away before he washed his shirt.
The other man threw back his Scotch and paused, considering him. "Let me guess. You're in…politics?"
He very nearly laughed out loud. "No."
"Law? Education?" The man tried again. "Religion?"
Grissom gave in, just to bring the conversation to an end sometime before they landed. "Bugs."
"Of course." The man thought for a second, then frowned. "Um…what?"
"Yes." He closed his eyes and leaned back into his seat.
When he woke again, it was to the voice of the pilot through the plane's intercom. "Ladies and gentlemen, we're on final approach to Heathrow, just waiting for landing clearance. Local time is 10:45 a.m. and the temperature is a chilly 4 degrees Celsius. That's 40 degrees Fahrenheit for our American guests. We want to thank you again for choosing British Airways. Please relax and enjoy the final leg of our journey."
The words stuck with Grissom all through their descent. Was this the final leg of his journey? Or would he be too late and find that Sara was already on a different path?
The sheet cake landed on the table right in front of Greg, and the cup of Ramen noodles he'd been slurping down was quickly forgotten.
"What's the occasion?" he asked Warrick.
Before the bearer of the bakery goods could answer, Nick entered the break room, took one look at the cake and groaned. "Okay, whose birthday did I forget? Please tell me it's not Catherine's. She'll never let me live it down."
Warrick rummaged through a cabinet and came up with a short stack of paper plates. "Take it easy. You didn't forget anyone's…"
"I smell chocolate." Catherine popped her head into the room, inhaling deeply. "And frosting." She spotted the bakery box. "Ooh, cake!" She approached the table and lifted the lid. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"
Pulling a knife out of the drawer, Warrick sighed. "Like I've been trying to say." He sank the blade into a corner of the cake. "Grissom once told me that when he left us, there would be no cake in the break room." He pushed the piece onto a plate and handed it to Catherine.
She ran her finger around the edge and licked off the icing. "And you didn't want him to be right?"
Warrick gave Nick his piece. "A long time ago, the man saved my career. Maybe even my life." He smiled ruefully. "I couldn't let him be right."
Catherine slipped her arm through his. "You're a good man, Warrick Brown."
"Can you make a toast with cake?" Greg wondered as he received his slice.
"If you don't mind frosting in the toaster," Nick snickered. "I gotta write that one down."
"Save your ink, Nicky," Catherine said, sweetly.
Warrick raised his plate and the others followed suit. "To Gil Grissom."
"And Sara Sidle!" Greg added.
Nodding, Warrick finished with, "Wherever life takes them, let it be together."
The morning started like every morning since she'd arrived in Africa. Get up, resist reading Grissom's letter, take a quick sponge bath, give in and read Grissom's letter, get dressed, go down to the hotel lobby for breakfast with the team.
Only there was something odd in the air that particular morning. A gut feeling that had Sara proceeding with caution as she entered the dining room.
She sought out her team's usual table, just to find them all clustered together in a far corner, discussing something.
"Good morning," Sara said, as brightly as possible.
"Nothing good about it," the Dick snorted.
She looked at Jan. "What's going on?"
"Just some local political stuff," Jan replied, nervously. "Nothing big, really. Someone tried to kill the president last night."
"Oh yeah, that's nothing big." Sara swallowed. "Did they succeed?"
"He'll be dead by the end of the day," Doc Ashe said, gravely. "And this entire country will descend into chaos."
"The Embassy is pushing for all non-essential citizens to leave immediately, just in case," Jan filled Sara in. "We have to decide if we're going to take one of the flights out, or stick around and see what happens."
The Dick scratched his bald spot. "You all do what you want. But I have no intention of 'sticking around' and getting murdered by some fourteen year-old insurgent with a machine gun!"
"I don't relish the idea of getting caught in a military coup d'état myself," Doc Ashe said. "But on the other hand, if there is fighting, we will be needed."
"We were told that this was a potentially dangerous mission." Sara put her hand over her locket. "Maybe we shouldn't make any decisions until we know more."
The Dick shot her a contemptuous look. "By then, it could be way too…"
He was cut off by sudden screams from the lobby. There was yelling in French. Jan grabbed Sara's free hand.
Where was Jomo? They really could have used a translator when several men carrying guns stormed into the dining room.
For the ten days it took his yellow fever vaccination to become effective, Grissom explored London.
He would be the first to admit that his fascination with the city ran towards the macabre. At the Tower, he stood in line to see the Crown Jewels, but took far more interest in standing on the exact spot where Anne Boleyn was beheaded. He walked through 221B Baker Street, home of the world's greatest detective Sherlock Holmes, but also took the walking tour of Jack the Ripper's crime scenes.
When he wasn't playing tourist at the British Museum or Westminster Abbey or the Globe Theatre, Grissom was on long distance to Las Vegas, getting his affairs in order. Catherine agreed to box up his more personal and expensive belongings; the rest would be packed and stored by the movers he hired. He owned the townhouse, fortunately, and didn't need to deal with it right away, but he did have to cancel the utilities. There were so many things to do and he wanted to get them all out of the way and focus on the one thing that really mattered.
On the day before his scheduled flight to Bangui by way of Cairo, Grissom found himself wandering through St. James Park. It was cold. It was wet. And he was pretty much all alone.
At any other time in his life, it would have been his idea of a perfect day. But she'd come along. And now all he could think about was how he wanted her walking next to him, keeping her hands warm in his pocket, eager to get back to their hotel room and spend the rest of the day under the covers.
Fifty years old and he was daydreaming about a girl. Better late than never.
He broke his morning traditions the next day by not turning on the television or buying a newspaper on his way to the airport. His mind was entirely on the next twenty-four hours…and how in the hell he was going to find Sara in a foreign country.
So when Grissom arrived at the airport to check in for his flight, he was, to put it lightly, outraged to discover that it had been canceled.
The girl behind the airline's international counter gave him a placating smile of sympathy. "I'm very sorry, Mr. Grissom," she said in her soft British accent. "But with the current situation in the country, we have temporarily halted service to…"
"Current situation?" Grissom shook his head. "What situation would that be?"
"Well, sir…the political situation." He gave her a blank stare. "The assassination of the President of the Central African Republic. It's been on the telly all morning." She looked beyond his shoulder. "Sir, I am very sorry about your flight, but if you wouldn't mind…there are other passengers…"
"No, see. I do mind." He gripped the counter with both hands. "I know it's just a small country to you. One destination out of hundreds you service. But it's not just some little African country to me. There happens to be someone I care about a great deal…someone I love who is in that country. So it's not simply a flight to me. It's my only way of getting to her. And if she's in danger…I have even more reason to be there!"
He was beginning to attract some attention, but he didn't notice or care. The girl cleared her throat, looking around for someone to save her from the crazy American.
"I don't care if you have to put me in a prop jet and sneak me across the border under the cover of night," Grissom went on, his voice rising. "I have paid for a flight to Bangui, and Bangui is where I intend to go!" He took a breath. "Now, will you help me or not?"
The girl was already picking up her mobile phone. "Perhaps you should speak to our manager."
"I need a shower in the worst way." Jan raised her arm and sniffed. "Twenty-four hour protection, my ass."
Sara declined to smell herself. She had a feeling that after an entire day of traveling, with her last bath having been of the sponge variety, she wasn't all that fresh.
There had been no international flights out of the capital. From Bangui, they'd been flown south to Kinshasa, the capital of the Democratic Republic of the Congo. From there, they'd traveled to Johannesburg, South Africa. And only from there had they been able to catch a direct flight to London.
They landed at Heathrow looking and feeling a lot like refugees. But there were certainly worse things than unwashed hair. The armed guards who'd come into their hotel could have been revolutionaries intent on murder or kidnapping, and not government guards sent to escort them to the American Embassy. Really, they were very lucky.
But Sara was having a hard time seeing the positive through the negatives. They'd been forced out of the country, forced to abandon their work. All of the photographs and documentation and physical evidence they'd worked so hard to collect in the hopes of someday arresting the revolutionaries for the murder of their own countrymen, had been left behind, and would probably end up in the very hands of the people it was intended to bring to justice. As much as she was grateful to be safe, Sara was ticked.
"Mind the gap," their flight attendant warned them as they left the plane and stepped into the covered skywalk that led to the terminal. "And thank you for flying with us today."
"Like we had a choice," Sara muttered, adjusting the strap of her carry-on over her shoulder.
Jan put her arm around her friend. "Calm down. They'll find another place to send us, or we'll just hang out in London until our site in Bosnia thaws. We'll hit the pubs together. You can be a slag like me!" She considered Sara. "Okay, you're not the slag type." Jan shrugged as they emerged into the international gate. "We'll find something else to take your mind off of…stuff."
Sara tried to smile. What if she didn't want her mind off of "stuff"?
Doc Ashe and the Dick had been seated in the front of the plane and had debarked first. "Baggage claim is this way, ladies," the doctor informed them when they met up a moment later. "Richard went ahead."
"Of course he did," Jan snorted. "C'mon, Sara." The trio of displaced scientists began weaving their way through the crowded terminal.
They passed several gates before something caught Jan's attention. She paused for a moment, causing Sara, who had not been paying attention, to bump right into her. "What's the hold up?" Sara asked, irritated.
Jan pointed to a small crowd gathered around the gate. "Some guy over there is having a fit about something. It's like that airport reality show. Minus the film crew. I'm gonna go watch."
"She's a teenager with a PhD sometimes," Sara complained to Doc Ashe. "Jan, we have a schedule to…"
Every thought, every objection, every grievance immediately vanished as Sara heard his voice.
"No, I don't believe I'm being unreasonable." He was angry. But there was something else. She knew all of his tones and inflections, but this one was different. Annoyed, yes, but also…desperate. "And you don't need to explain the situation to me again. I am not intellectually challenged. I'm well aware now of the political situation. But from what you've told me, the border has not been closed. The American Embassy is still open. And the US State Department has only issued a travel warning, not an outright ban. I am an American citizen and I want you to fulfill your obligation to take me to Bangui, as you were charged to do when I bought this ticket a week…"
"Gil."
Sara didn't realize how loud she said his name until he stopped talking. Many heads turned to see her…and in the midst of them all, she saw his face.
"Sara."
She didn't think. Thinking would have wasted time and enough of that had already passed them by. Her bag slipped off her shoulder and landed on the floor as she started running. The crowd parted to let Grissom through as he did the same. They met in the middle. The final leg of the journey.
Sara threw herself into his arms, at the same time he lifted her off the ground. At their reunion, a cheer went up through the crowd.
The clapping continued, but they were oblivious to anything but each other. Sara closed her eyes, stopping the flow of her tears. He was still the mixture of strength and softness she'd come to crave. An unfamiliar sense of elation enveloped her, like every molecule of her body was rejoicing just to have him near again.
She could feel him shaking as he set her back down on her feet, but he kept holding onto her so tightly that she wondered if he ever intended to let go again. "You're okay," he chanted into her hair. "My god, Sara…I thought I was too late."
"Is this real?" Sara said, her voice muffled by his shoulder. "How are you here?"
His lips found her temple. "I had to see you."
Instinctive reservation probably wasn't a good thing, but she had to know for sure. Before they went any further. "For a minute?" she asked. "A day…a week?" Her arm slipped from around his neck and her hand came to rest over his heart. "How long do I have you?"
"How long do you want me?"
It took a lot of willpower to pull away from him in order to see his face. Grissom looked back at her with a clear blue stare, unclouded by any confusion or hesitation, or regret…none of the things that had burdened him before. It was like seeing a new face on the man she knew so well.
Sara savored her answer, and the speed with which it came to her. He wasn't the only one who'd shed his trepidation. "Forever."
Grissom smiled broadly. "I was hoping you'd say that."
He drew her back against his chest and kissed her, to the applause of the crowd still gathered to watch them. Sara's fingers gripped his shirt, urging him to make the kiss deeper, longer, more amorous than it already was.
Their lips parted softly. Sara opened her eyes, dazed, but only slightly confused. "Are you asking me to go back with you?"
"No." He held her face in his hands, caressing her cheek with his thumb. "I'm asking if I can stay with you."
"But…" Her tongue darted across her lips, savoring the lingering taste of his kiss. "What about the lab?"
"I quit."
Sara blinked rapidly. "Why?"
"So many reasons." Grissom tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "But mostly because I'll do whatever it takes to be with you."
A shiver passed down her spine. "You just left it all behind? Everything you've worked for your entire life…for me? Why would you do that?"
"Honey...you're worth it."
Sara swallowed a choked sob. "Oh god, Gil…" Other men could say the words, but only he could make her believe them. "I love you, too."
When they kissed once more, only a handful of people, Jan and Doc Ashe included, were still interested in the scene enough to offer their congratulations by clapping. Even when they broke apart a few minutes later, they didn't separate.
They weren't letting each other go again.
Dear Catherine and guys,
Ask and you shall receive. We've canceled our plans here in London and made arrangements at one of the more reputable and, frankly, classier places on the list Greg emailed us. We'll be arriving in two weeks.
And yes, all of you are invited to the wedding chapel.
See you soon.
Grissom and Sara
One day soon it'll all come out
How you dream about each other sometimes
With the memory of how you once gave up
But you made it through the troubled times
- Fountains of Wayne
Fin
A/N: So now we've come to the end of the road. I didn't anticipate this story taking a year to tell (yes, exactly a year tomorrow), but it's been one fun riding telling it. Thank you to everyone who's taken the ride with me, from the first chapter of "Giving Up" to now. I hope it was worth your time;) Your comments, reviews, emails and PM's have meant so much to me. I've tried to thank you all along the way, and maybe sometimes it's felt repetitive, but I just never wanted my appreciation to go unspoken.
So, one last time, thank you! And maybe we'll do this again soon;)
Kristen Elizabeth 1/16/2006