AS I START TO WRITE THIS, I DO SO WITH THE INTENTION THAT THIS IS THE FINAL CHAPTER, SO I WOULD LIKE TO THANK EVERYBODY WHO IS READING THIS STORY, ESPECIALLY THOSE WHO HAVE TAKEN THE TIME TO DROP ME A LINE AND REVIEW IT. ALTHOUGH THIS IS A BITTER-SWEET ENDING FOR THIS STORY, WHICH I HAVE COME TO LOVE, KNOWING ME, I'LL PROBABLY FIND AN EXCUSE TO WRITE ANOTHER CHAPTER. MAYBE I COULD MAKE IT INTO ONE LONG WIP.

Three months later.

Grissom had conveniently avoided every question Sara had flung at him during throughout the shift. What are we doing tonight? What have you got planned? Are you up to something? And yet he still resisted the temptation to inform her of what was going on. He had told her sweetly at the end of shift that he would be half an hour or so behind her, as he had to finish logging some evidence, and so she should get a shower and get ready whilst she awaited him.

She impatiently thrummed her fingers on the steering wheel as she came to a stop at a red light. She would be at the condo in five minutes, depending on how quickly this light would change, and she was savouring the feeling that she would be alone for thirty minutes. Oh, she didn't mind being around Grissom, but now that she had moved in with him, she appreciated the odd moments of independence she could snatch, being a creature of habit and all. She steered the car along the road, pulling in at the drive. She fumbled in her purse for her house keys, and let herself in, humming lightly.

The hot water cascading down her back made her forget all about the strenuous day she'd had, not made any better by the fact she and Gil hadn't made love in a week. To a lot of people, and to her four or five months previosuly, that wouldn't have been a big deal, but now that they were in such close proximity to each other, and at such a frequency, sexual tension built up between them quite quickly. During the past seven days, she had, she admitted to herself, been very provocative at work whenever she and Grissom had worked a case. Licking her lips, fluttering her eyelashes, brushing past him, hoping to ellicit some sort of response. Instead he would smile back at her knowingly, and come home and go to sleep before she had a chance to even kiss him goodnight. So standing in the shower, she felt waves of arousal wash over her body, as real and definite as the water cleansing her body.

She turned the shower off, and wrapped herself in a towel, drying off her body as best as she could. She recalled that the only clean clothes she had were in the bedroom. She opened the door joining the bathroom to Gil's bedroom, and immediately spotted something on the bed. Approaching it gingerly, it became clear to her what was resting on top of the duvet. She reached out and touch the silk with her fingers, feeling shudders down her spine. The lingerie was black and red, and there were not only a bra and panties, but stockings too. She spied a little box, and a note, scrawled elegantly by a familiar hand.

Dear Sara -

I hope you do not mind the trite choice of colour for the underwear, but I thought it would suit you. The stockings will cetainly accentuate those lovely long legs of yours. Anyhow, away from the poetry and alliteration - I have a serious question for you tonight. Aside from donating a kidney or giving you three pints of my blood, this is the closest thing to complete devotion that I can offer. I don't know if you've already guessed what's in the box, and I will certainly ask you in person. But I want you to marry me. I love you more than words could ever describe, more than I would be able to do justice by simply telling you.

Love, Gil

Oh, and by the way, I know what you've been up to the past week, but I wouldn't worry about it tonight.

Sara felt tears pricking at her eyes. He really loved her. After him telling her all this time, after being so supportive and kind at her mother's, she still hadn't dared to believe that maybe he cared, that he really wanted her. But she knew now. This was all the proof she would ever need. Resisting the urge to open the tiny box, she composed herself, finished drying her body, and dressed herself in the lingerie.

Although Grissom was whistling as he opened the front door, his gut felt like it had three hundred cigarettes being stubbed out in it. He breathed deeply, worried about so many things. Will she like the lingerie? Will the lingerie fit? Will she like the ring? Will she even want to marry me?

"Sara?" he called nervously, undoing the top button of his shirt and loosening the blue tie. He had been to a court appearance earlier in the day, and was still wearing his court attire - black jacket, white shirt, blue tie and black slacks, not to mention his glasses.

"In here," he heard he call from the bedroom. She sounded perfectly fine, but for all he knew, she could be sitting curled up crying her eyes out. Unceratinly, he pushed the bedroom door open, his head bobbing around. His breath caught in his throat, and the rest of his body caught up wih his head. He stalked in a predatory fashion into the room, hands by his sides, jaw working back and forth. "It fits, then?" he asked.

"The ring or the lingerie?" Sara demanded. She was reclining on the bed, looking sultry and sexy.

"Both?" he croaked, closing his eyes and still seeing that image of her imprinted behind the eyelids.

"Ah, well the lingerie fits like a glove," she teased lightly. "But I haven't tried the ring on yet." She saw his eyes flutter open in terror. "Honey, it's only because I wanted you to put it on for me," she calmed him.

"Does that mean ... yes?" he asked, frightened and aroused all at once. The beats stirred within him, and when she nodded, his shoulders sloped forward as his feet carried him towards her, like some wild cat closing in for the kill. Sara handed him the box, and he accepted it, kneeling in front of her. He ran his fingers down her hips, feeling the erotic change from lace to skin to stocking. He opened the box, and took her left hand in his. "Sara Sidle ... would you do me the honour of marrying me? Of putting up with me for the rest of our natural time on earth? Of loving me like no other woman has?"

She pretended to consider the question. "We-ell," she muttered. "I don't know. When you phrase the question like that, I suppose ... oh, what the hell, Gil.. You know there would be no greater pleasure for me than marrying you."

He slipped the ring on her finger, and stood, kissing her tenderly. "There would be no greater pleasure, huh?" he growled in her ear. "How about we put that theory to the test." He received an agreeing moan from Sara, and he gently steered her towards the bed.