I promised a double and here it is.

I'm still working on my AU Immortality fic, it's slowly taking over my life, but I hope it will be worth it. I have a few other things in the pipeline, and a couple of one shots I've already written and will be posting soon. If anyone has any prompts, please send them through (they don't need to be GSR or CSI) and I'll see what I can come up with.

I hope you enjoy this, and please review!

Chapter 10

Gil,

I hope you don't mind my writing to you. I looked you up when I returned home and found that you used to work for the Las Vegas Crime Lab, so I am sending this there in the hopes they will forward it onto you.

I wanted to thank you for how you spoke to me on the plane, I was very nervous – I've never been one for flying – and you helped me out a great deal. I told you that one of my regrets was not traveling with Harry when I had the chance. Traveling to Costa Rica was my tribute to him. He had settled for road trips across the States, this is the least I can do for him now.

I didn't tell you, but the real reason for my trip was to say goodbye. I had his ashes with me, and I knew he would have wanted them to be scattered somewhere as beautiful as this. (I have enclosed a photo; I think you'll agree that this is what Harry would have wanted).

Maybe he will rest a little better, knowing that, for him, I have overcome my fear.

I know this may seem strange, my writing to you since we only met that one time, but, for whatever reason, I have been unable to get our conversation out of my head. I hope you don't mind an old busybody prying into your business, but I would very much like to know how it went with your 'special someone'.

When you mentioned her, you said that things did not end well between you. That you had made mistakes. Please believe me when I say, that is not an uncommon occurrence. And it is something you are likely to do again in the future, just don't let it hold you back. If this woman is as special as you made her out to be, I'm sure she will not hold your past against you.

I wish you both all the luck in the world and, if you wouldn't mind, please satisfy an old romantic heart, and let me know how it went.

Kindest regards,

Mary Cuthbert

When Grissom had first read Mary's letter, it made him smile. He had never expected to hear from the older woman again, let alone receive a letter and photograph. He was happy for her, that she was able to fight her fear and give her husband the tribute she wanted.

He had thought about Mary on occasion while he and Sara had been in Costa Rica. Wishing he could thank her for her words and tell her that he had made the right decision, that things had worked out, just as she had told him it would.

Grissom pulled out his notebook and pen from his shoulder bag and settled back at his mother's kitchen table. Betty and Sara had disappeared upstairs, Sara carrying the bag she had brought back from Vegas. Grissom knew what it was, he had found it a few weeks after she had left.

He was wondering around the house, not knowing what to do with himself. He had just pulled another double at the lab, not wanting to be at home. The empty house reminding him too much of Sara. Hank was sulking on his bed, the dog missing the feisty brunette almost as much as Grissom did. Grissom had tried to play with him, but Hank was having none of it. He had taken one of Sara's jackets from the bedroom and was now sleeping with it.

The dog carried it everywhere, only dropping it when Grissom took him for a walk or to the sitters. Like he didn't want to sully it, dirty it. Or remove her sent from the precious fabric.

Just for something to do, Grissom decided to clear out the closets. He refused to touch Sara's things, leaving them where they were, but he pulled out his own. Throwing the things he hadn't worn for a while into bin bags. When he was done in the master bedroom, he went to the spare room. The clothing here was mainly old work clothing. For when he wanted to decorate, or if Sara wanted to work on the old BMW she had found in a scrap yard.

He began pushing the clothes around the rail, not really looking at what he was putting his hands on until he could feel the rough texture of a garment bag under his fingers. Grissom paused, not recognising the bag, or the name of the shop. It must have been Sara's, but he didn't understand why she would have left it in here.

Taking the bag out, he back up to sit on the bed. He unzipped the bag and saw what was inside. Grissom's eyes widened and his jaw dropped.

When did she buy this?

There was a receipt pushed over the hanger, he raised his eyebrow a little at the price, but he didn't really care about that. The date was stamped only a few days before she left.

Grissom held the dress to his face and, for the first time since she had gone, started to cry. He cried over her leaving, he cried over her pain, over what she had gone through, and over the brief moment of happiness they were able to share.

One day, she was buying a wedding dress, dreaming of their future. The next…

Grissom dropped his hands and looked down at the dress. It was beautiful and he knew she would have looked stunning in it. With a reverence bordering on adoration, he wrapped the dress back up and placed it in the wardrobe, ensuring the grubby clothing within didn't touch it.

Back then, Grissom didn't think he would ever get the chance to see her in that dress. He couldn't allow himself to think of it. But every time he couldn't sleep, which was most nights, he would find himself staring at that dress and thinking of her.

He hadn't told her that he knew about it, even after she had agreed to marry him again. He wasn't sure if she would still want to wear it, though Grissom hoped that she would. Now it seems, he was going to get his wish. He only hoped his mother didn't talk Sara out of it. He knew Betty loved Sara, but she had a very specific tastes and ideas of how a bride should look. And that look didn't include a knee length, simple dress.

Grissom put his pen to paper and started to write his letter, occasionally stopping give Hank a pat on the head. He had missed this dog.

After a while, Sara and Betty returned. Sara's hair had been pulled back and Grissom could see a braid starting at her left temple and going to the nape of her neck. He guessed that had been playing around with hair up there too. He hoped they didn't do anything too drastic, he liked it when Sara wore her hair down. Or maybe in a ponytail.

"Hey," he called, singing for his mother. "Everything ok?" He watched Sara's face carefully, but she only smiled. No trace of disappointment. Betty must have liked the dress.

"Yeah," Sara said.

"I'll make a fresh pot of tea," Betty signed. "You two go settle down in the living room."

Grissom settled on the sofa, pulling Sara to his side. She nestled in against him, crossing her legs and leaning her head on his arm. When Betty returned, they spent the rest of the day talking. At one point, Sara took Hank for a walk, leaving Grissom alone with his mother.

Betty leant back in her chair, placing her mug on the table beside her, and looked him over.

"You look happy," she signed.

"I am."

Betty smiled at him. "You look a lot better than the last time I saw you. Healthy." Grissom didn't respond, not sure what she wanted him to say. "I won't pretend to understand what happened between you two, or why you didn't go after her, when she left."

"Mom," Grissom signed, trying to interrupt her, but she just waved him down.

"I know what happened to her, Gil. I remember watching you break down over our video call, seeing Sara with cuts over her face, and arm in a cast. I know it was hard, but you made it through it."

"Why are you bringing this up now?" Grissom asked. They hadn't spoken of Sara's kidnapping since it had happened, in fact he probably wouldn't have even told his mother if she hadn't called them a few weeks after the event. There was no hiding Sara's injuries and Betty had been insistent on meeting the woman he had been seeing. Sara had walked away, making up some excuse, when his mother had asked about her injuries. And Grissom didn't know why he did it, but he found himself telling his mother everything.

The secret relationship, the miniatures and Sara's kidnapping. Under normal circumstances, Betty wouldn't have been too thrilled to hear about her son conducting an illicit affair with one of his subordinates, but with everything that had happened, she had decided to leave well enough alone. Her main concern then had been him, and Sara.

She had made sure to contact them at least once a week after that, especially once Grissom had gone back to work, leaving Sara at home before her leave had ended. She had even gone to visit them a couple of times in Vegas. Sara had worked her magic once more, and Betty Grissom had fallen in love with the young woman.

"Because I want you to see how far you have come, both of you. When I first met Sara, it was under some of the most difficult circumstances. She was drowning, and neither of you knew how to get her out. Then, when she left, you were drowning. Throwing yourself back into work, hardly eating and barley sleeping. Now I see you both, happy and healthy. Filled out. Glowing. You did that, for each other, and I'm proud of you, Gil."

"Thanks, mom," Grissom said, he lent forward on the sofa and took his mother's withered hand. Still as strong now as it had been when he was a boy.

"You're welcome," Betty signed, taking her hand back. "Now don't go screwing this up again, you hear?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"You've got a special woman there, Gil. Don't let her go."

"I don't plan too," Grissom said.

Sara came back not long after that, sweating a little. She and Hank must have had a run. That evening, the three of them talked over the next day, planning it out until, too tired to continue, Sara and Grissom retired to the spare bedroom.

As they lay in bed, Grissom pulled Sara close and kissed her before settling in behind her.

"What was that for?" Sara asked, as she lay her head on the pillow.

"Do I need a reason to kiss you?" Grissom asked, snaking his hand across her stomach. Sara twisted her fingers with his.

"No," she said, he could hear the smile in her voice. She lifted his hand to her mouth and kissed the tips of his fingers, before setting them back down. It didn't take long for Grissom to hear her breathing even out in sleep.

He thought of all she had done, everything she had accomplished. Every life that she touched was better off, just by having a fraction of an interaction with her. She had spent over ten years of her life, fighting for justice, speaking for those who could no longer speak for themselves. She was gentle with victims and tough with perpetrators. She took no nonsense from those around her, not allowing anyone to make her feel bad for being who she was.

His mother was right. Grissom had found himself a very special woman.