A/N: Major apologies for taking so long to post the epilogue of this story. I kept starting it, not liking the direction, and then restarting it. Real life has also been a challenge the last two years or so. But this is the end. I appreciate everyone who has taken the time to let me know that they liked the story, even if it is a bit tough to read at points.

This scenario came to me years ago and I never found a good fandom or ship to implement it in until I got back into CSI during the pandemic. In particular, I wanted to explore what would essentially be a worst case scenario for Grissom and Sara, something with the potential to utterly break them. Except, with each loving and supporting the other, they are able to get through to the other side. I'm not sure if I'll write more CSI fics but we'll see.

Sara sat calmly on the wooden bench of the courtroom, ignoring the incessant buzz of the overhead lights as their glaring light drove away all shadows from the windowless space. Grissom sat next to her. His calm kept her tethered to the reality of the moment, just as the warmth of her hand in his reassured her that everything would be okay.

A year had passed.

A year since that fateful night when Brenda Waters had decided to destroy their lives. Brenda's intention had been clear: to make everyone, including Sara, believe that Grissom had chosen to torture his lover through hours of pain and blood before turning a gun on himself. They had survived by chance when Sara had taken advantage of a moment when her leg had been left untied and kicked his knee just as he stood ready to put a bullet through his skull. The resulting force had sent him backward, knocking the gun from his hand as he upended the table covered in torture implements. But in his struggle with their captor over the gun, it had fired.

The resulting shot hit Sara in the stomach. While the injury took months to heal, she also reflected that it was much more survivable than if Brenda had shot her in the head.

Or if Grissom had killed himself.

She shuddered as the memory of that final moment revisited her - their eyes locked as he pressed the mussel of the revolver to his temple. His eyes were full of painful sorrow and guilt the likes of which she had never witnessed from him. But her attention shifted to his hand not holding the gun, where he had curled his fingers into a simple sign of, "I love you."

"Are you okay?" Grissom asked from beside her, and the question brought her back into the present.

She flashed a quick, reassuring smile. "I'm okay."

Before they could say more, the bailiff called out, "ALL RISE for the Clark County Justice Court, the Honorable Bailey E. Furlington presiding."

Everyone in the courtroom stood as the judge entered. He off-handedly told them to be seated and began reading off the case charges. The assistant district attorney was familiar to Sara and Grissom as she had kept them apprised of developments in the case. She turned to give Sara a warm smile, thankful that the two of them had decided to come.

"We are here today for the sentencing of Brenda Waters, who already entered a plea before me last week. As I recall, this was not a negotiated plea?" the judge asked generally.

"No, your Honor," Brenda's attorney stated as he stood up from the defense table. "My client wishes to throw herself on the mercy of the court and beg for understanding of her unique circumstances. Because Brenda was also a victim-"

The judge held up a hand, interrupting the man.

"She will have a chance to speak. I have also read the presentence investigation report and refamiliarized myself with the facts of this case." He looked at the prosecutor and asked, "Do the victims wish to make a statement?"

The assistant district attorney looked back at Sara, who nodded her head, before she answered the judge, "Yes, your Honor."

Sara stood up and made her way past the tiny gate separating the viewers of the courtroom action from the actual participants. She had been to court many times, but unlike all the times in the past, she did not take the witness stand to explain the forensic evidence in a case. Instead, she walked up to the center podium to address the judge directly.

For the first time that day, Sara looked over at the defense table and locked eyes with Brenda. The other woman quickly looked away from her. But Brenda looked different. Smaller, somehow. More muted.

The prosecutor had told them when the judge had initially found Brenda incompetent to proceed. Between her injury and the appearance of madness, the case had languished for months. Finally, only a month earlier, the doctors had finally declared Brenda both competent to stand trial and healthy enough to return to county jail. Apparently, a few weeks in jail had been enough for Brenda to decide to plead guilty. And on this day, after hearing from Sara and Brenda herself, the judge would decide the woman's sentence.

Grissom had already declared that he did not wish to address the court.

"I don't think the judge will want to hear anything from me," he said archly.

"Why not? You were a victim too."

But as he shook his head, Sara knew he did not see it the same way she did. To him, she was the victim. He had only been an unwitting accomplice. And when she reminded him of the knife which had been stabbed through his back, he only shrugged as if to indicate he believed it a fitting punishment.

While they had both made great progress with their physical healing, the challenges of overcoming the traumas inflicted by Brenda had been great. As he promised, Grissom had attended therapy, both with Sara and on his own. But whereas she returned to work at the crime lab, he had steadfastly refused to go back.

For the first few months, he occupied himself with renovating and updating his mother's house. While Sara had taken it upon herself to go back to the townhouse and box up his books and other possessions, he never set foot in the place again. They sold it through a realtor, and while the law did not require him to disclose what had occurred in the garage because no one had actually died, Grissom had insisted that the realtor make any potential buyers aware. But with the Las Vegas housing market being what it was, he still had a number of offers within days.

After moving Grissom's things into his mother's house, Sara proceeded to box up her own apartment. Without even broaching the conversation with him, she had simply put her own extensive book collection alongside his. Grissom had nodded thoughtfully, a little smile on his lips as he observed simply, "We'll have to get more bookcases."

And just like that, Grissom's mother's house had become their home.

They turned the bedroom into a home office. Sara knew she would never be able to sleep there again, so they used a different bedroom instead. Grissom had all the carpet replaced with hardwood floors and Sara painted the walls a cheery pale yellow. By the time they were done, it felt like an entirely different house, and that suited them perfectly.

But even after the renovations were complete, Grissom stayed home. He planted a flower garden and installed a bee box. He paid his share of their monthly expenses from the sale of his townhouse, but Sara knew those funds would not last forever. But even besides bills, she knew that he needed a new occupation. While Grissom was certainly an introvert, he thrived when working, either solving crimes or teaching other investigators to look for the clues so many others overlooked.

"I can't go back to the lab," he told her the final time she made the suggestion. The way he said the words stuck with her, as if it was not just a mental block he had no chance of conquering but also a promise he had made to himself.

"There are other things you can do. You could write a book. Or…"

He raised an eyebrow in a way she had learned to mean that there was something he had been considering. She waited, prompting him to speak. Sometimes, just the act of her waiting on him gave him both the time and room to put thoughts into words. Sometimes, but not always.

On this occasion, he eventually ventured, "I've been offered a teaching position at the university. With the anthropology department. A couple of more basic forensics classes. But also maybe something more advanced."

Sara's eyes opened with surprise. "Oh, that's perfect," she said.

His expression betrayed doubt. "I'm not sure…"

"No, that's really perfect for you, Gil. You've always been a good teacher. And after all those conferences you've given lectures at…"

He nodded but looked away, his eyes reflecting that look he sometimes got when he was in the midst of remembering what had happened in the garage. The first few months, before the counseling had really begun to help, it happened all the time. Now, it occurred less sometimes it hit him at odd moments. Sara knew it was the same for her.

"All charges were dropped, Gil. If they offered you the position, then they either don't know you were arrested or they don't care."

"That's not what concerns me."

"Then…?"

Grissom took his time responding, and she watched as his jaw clenched and unclenched with emotion before he finally spoke. "I don't know how I'm supposed to teach students when I feel like a fraud."

"A fraud? You aren't-"

"Sara, I've done unspeakable things."

"At gunpoint."

He tilted his head slightly and his voice softened as he said, "You were at gunpoint as well, Sara."

She knew he was referring to how she had acted when Brenda had put the gun to Grissom's head and given Sara the same instructions - hurt the man she loved if she wanted to save his life. But Sara had refused.

"And I almost got us both killed," she pointed out. While she had no regrets over harming herself rather than Grissom, her hesitation had almost cost him his life when Brenda put a knife into his back, collapsing his lung.

But Grissom shook his head. "You saved us. I just got hurt in the process."

"Just as you saved me, and I got hurt in the process."

He would have continued to argue, but they both knew it did no good. Nothing could budge the weight of Grissom's guilt except time.

"You don't have to speak before the judge if you don't want to," Sara told him softly. "But I'd really like it if you went with me to court."

He smiled then, the expression offering reassurance. "Of course."

Taking a deep breath, Sara deliberately did not look back at where Grissom sat behind her in the courtroom before looking up at the judge. She had written out her remarks as well, in case she got lost in the emotions of her thoughts. But she knew had most of it memorized.

"Good morning, your Honor," she said.

The black-robed Judge Furlington gave her a very deliberate nod of approval, and she could see deep compassion reflected back in his eyes.

"I know you have already read the police reports, so you have a good idea of what happened to myself and Gil Grissom, who is seated behind me. But I wanted you to know what isn't in the reports." She paused to take a deep breath. "Brenda Waters was a victim of her husband, a man I helped put in prison. But used his abuse to justify hurting other people. And even worse, she used it to make someone incapable of violence hurt the person that he loved."

As her eyes filled with tears, Sara glanced to compose herself. Twin tears fell, wetting the paper, and she deliberately did not push them away before continuing.

"I know Ms. Waters wanted me to believe that Grissom was doing to me the same things her husband had done to her. But I never believed it. Not for one second. I knew something else was happening. I could tell by the expression on his face that he was acting under threat. And that threat could only be to me, never to him. Because when given the instruction to try and end his life, he did so without hesitation."

The tears had gotten so thick that Sara had trouble seeing, so she took a moment to wipe them away.

"Your Honor… I have worked in the criminal justice system my entire career. I have seen countless victims, have witnessed the expressions of horror on their faces. I have interviewed rape victims and victims of child abuse. I have even had loved ones of defendants I have investigated come after me before. But this time was so much worse because Ms. Waters succeeded in doing two things. First, she made Gil Grissom believe that he was what he has always hated: an abuser. Gil is the kindest, gentlest, most thoughtful person I have ever known. He is incapable of harming others. But he did the unthinkable to save my life. Because of what Ms. Waters forced him to do, he is forever changed in ways I cannot explain to you. He quit his job and sold his house. And he would have left me if I hadn't made him stay - because of what she did to his perception of himself."

Sara looked down at her paper, unable to meet anyone's eyes as she continued. "And second, Ms. Waters showed me my greatest fear: Gil dying because of me. He very nearly did - because of me. When Ms. Waters broke into Gil's house and once again targeted us, I could not make the same sacrifice of spirit that he had already made for me. And he got badly hurt. That is something I will forever have to live with. It turns my dreams into nightmares and makes me doubt everything about myself."

She swallowed and forced herself to look up at the judge on the bench. While Sara might have fancied herself imagining it, he also seemed to have a gleam of tears in his eyes.

"For these reasons, I hope that you will consider a considerable prison sentence for Ms. Waters' crimes," she said in summation.

This time, as Sara moved to return to her seat, she stopped and deliberately stared at Brenda. The woman had still would not meet her gaze, instead staring intently at the table in front of her. With a disgusted shake of her head, Sara returned to the gallery and sat down next to Grissom.

While she expected him to take her hand or whisper something reassuring in her ear, Grissom surprised her. Instead, he stood up and moved past her into the aisle. With a sinking feeling of dread, Sara imagined he was leaving the courtroom entirely, and she feared that her statement to the judge had been too much for him to hear. But instead, she watched as he took the place she had just vacated at the podium.

"Your Honor, if I may say something?" Grissom said into the microphone.

Judge Furlington simply nodded, a tinge of familiarity in his expression, and Sara wondered how many times Gil had testified in the judge's courtroom in his former life.

Grissom took his time, letting a heavy silence settle over the room before he spoke. But when he did, his voice was its usual clear, deep timber.

"I know these hearings are to let you know how a defendant's crimes have impacted their victims, so that you may decide a proper sentence," Grissom stated. "And I hope you will take into account everything Sara said on that subject. But I just wanted to speak to one last point."

Instead of looking at the judge, Grissom turned to address Brenda at the defense table. Just as before, she kept her eyes averted so as not to meet his gaze. But Grissom addressed her anyway.

"Brenda… For all the things you succeeded in doing to Sara and me, you failed in one respect. We will heal and will continue to live our lives despite all the damage you wrought. What your husband did to you, the way he turned you into this… That won't happen to us. We are stronger than that, and we are stronger than you. You failed. And after today, we will never have reason to think of you again."

Grissom managed to keep his voice completely neutral throughout his statement, and in that same gentle tone, he said to the judge, "Thank you, your Honor."

When he returned to sit next to her in the gallery, Grissom reached for her hand and gave it a warm squeeze.

After the hearing, Sara and Grissom met the rest of the team for brunch. Sara smiled as she realized that it was the same restaurant where she and Grissom had enjoyed breakfast together before their first official date. Nick and Warrick were already there, having snagged a corner booth. Greg walked in a few minutes later, and Catherine arrived ten minutes later with an apology that Brass had gotten tied up and could not join them.

"So how much time did she get?" Nick asked, the first to broach the subject they all wanted to ask about.

Gil looked at Sara, who stated, "The judge gave her thirty years. Followed by lifetime probation."

Warrick did the math. "Even if she gets time for good behavior, that's a minimum twenty-year sentence."

"I don't think we have to worry about her for a long time," Grissom agreed.

"I'm just glad it's finally over," Catherine said. "And with no trial. Thank God for small favors."

No one mentioned that a trial might have exposed some of the irregularities of the official investigation, including that their team had been involved from the outset even though Sara was clearly a victim and Grissom had initially been a suspect. By taking a plea, Brenda had waived the right to challenge any of that.

They all sat in silence for a moment. But only a moment.

Sara spoke up, much more enthusiastic, "We actually have some good news. Gil got a new job."

A chorus of approval echoed back to them and Sara noted that Grissom seemed at least as pleased with the congratulations as he felt uncomfortable being the center of attention.

"He's going to be teaching three different classes for the forensic anthropology department at the Vegas branch of University of Nevada," she said, letting the pride reflect in her voice. "I've heard that the classes all filled up in less than an hour."

"Maybe I should sit in on that class," Greg stated, and Sara knew in an instant that he wasn't joking. "I mean, if that's the only way to learn from the best…"

Ready to relinquish the spotlight, Grissom quickly cut in, "And that isn't the end of our good news."

But when he said nothing further, the team began glancing back and forth between him, Sara, and themselves. Finally, Sara leaned into him and very deliberately drew her left hand up to tuck her hair behind her ear. As she did so, the simple gold ring on her third finger gleamed in the natural streaming in through the windows.

"Would you look at that," Catherine said.

"Oooooooh," Nick and Warrick managed in unison.

Only Greg still seemed confused, looking around again as he struggled to understand what he had missed. But a few heartbeats later, his eyes went wide with understanding as he managed an excited, "Congratulations!"

Catherine asked, "When did this happen?"

With a shrug, Sara said, "A few days ago. We had a moment and decided to go down to the strip…"

"Don't tell me you guys got married by an Elvis impersonator," Warrick quipped.

With a shy laugh, Grissom said, "I think it was David Bowie, actually."

Nick just kept nodding slowly before pronouncing, "That's great guys. That's great. And it's about time."

The rest of the cacophony of well wishes overwhelmed them both, but Sara was all smiles at the attention. She also noted that Grissom seemed lighter than he had in months. While he was not entirely back to his old self, he definitely seemed well on his way.

They spent the rest of the brunch talking and eating. As the night shift team had just gotten off work, Catherine ordered a round of mimosas so they could toast the couple. As she offered a flute of the beverage to Sara, she asked, "You can have this, right?"

The question was two-fold, coming from both Catherine as a friend and Catherine as Sara's boss as she had taken over the nightshift supervisor position.

But Sara rolled her eyes at the bluntness of the question. She knew beyond all shadow of a doubt that she could not be pregnant. She and Grissom had not been intimate since that fateful night. And while the abstinence had been frustrating for her, she knew that he still needed to process his guilt and feelings of self loathing. "Yes, I can have champagne."

Greg held up his glass. "To Sara and Grissom," he said simply.

"To Sara and Grissom," the others echoed, and their glasses clinked.

Smiling widely, Sara took the obligatory sip before turning to look at her husband. She was about to ask if he was okay when he opened his mouth to speak.

"You know," he said thoughtfully, "I think you can all call me Gil now."

After a heartbeat of thought, everyone laughed at the seriousness of his pronouncement.

Warrick shook his head. "That's never gonna happen, Gris."

"No way, boss," Nick added.

"Well you definitely shouldn't be calling me boss," Grissom pointed out.

With a devilish grin, Nick said, "Okay, boss."

When the jovial meal finally ended, Grissom went to pick up the tab, but Catherine beat him to it. "This one's on me," she said, flashing him a warm smile.

"Thank you," he told her. He held her gaze for a long moment, and something silent passed between them. "For everything, Catherine."

"You're welcome," she said with sincerity.

Grissom drove himself and Sara back home. As he did so, Sara chatted amiably about the brunch, commenting on each of their friends and their reactions to their news. A soft smile settled across his face as he listened to her. Sara's voice always soothed him. He loved just listening to her speak.

He knew he had been especially quiet because Sara kept chattering as they reached home. She had very deliberately avoided the subject of Brenda Waters' sentencing hearing, instead segueing into the latest cases she was investigating at the crime lab. While she could not go into all the details with him anymore anymore, she told him which techniques she had been using to piece together evidence in the more difficult cases.

Finally, just inside the front door, Sara stopped and she looked at him, her face reflecting concern.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"I'm okay," he assured her.

Sara nodded, but she still looked worried.

Slowly and deliberately, Grissom reached out his hand to touch the back of her neck. He tenderly pulled her close to him and with exquisite care, he touched his lips to hers.

The kiss was brief and chaste, but Sara melted into it. For all their progress over the past year, the one thing which had suffered the most was their intimacy. While they had both made attempts to reestablish the physical side of their relationship, Grissom had been unable to get further than a few kisses without the flashbacks overwhelming him. And he hated letting Sara feel as though he might be rejecting her when the very opposite was true. He could not understand why she would ever be willing to let him touch her, let alone want such contact.

But this time, when he kissed her, there were no intrusive thoughts, no blood-filled memories reminding him of the impropriety of his hands on this woman. Instead, he felt only warm willingness in both his body and hers. His mind reminded him of the gold ring on her finger and the way she had looked at him in that gaudy chapel as she said "I do."

When Sara finally broke from the kiss with obvious reluctance, Grissom simply gazed at her for a long moment. Finally, he asked, "Would you like to go lay down with me in the bedroom?"

"Yes." She said the word immediately, without asking for clarification. But then she paused, as if to consider the full import of his question. "Are you sure you're okay with that?"

With a shrug, Grissom answered, "I don't know. We'll see. But I want to try again if you do."

"I always want to try again."

Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she grinned at him. She had smiled a lot throughout the day, and he enjoyed seeing that expression rather than the tears she had shed at the sentencing hearing. But that part of their lives suddenly seemed very far away, like a distant memory. And their future stretched out before them with endless possibilities, such as the allusion to a possible pregnancy Catherine had made at brunch. Of course, that discussion could wait for another day.

He reached out a hand to touch her face, tracing the scar left by one particularly deep cut. But the skin was now pink and healed, and he looked back to meet her expectant gaze.

"Sara… I love you."

"I love you too, Gil."

As he reached down to take her hand, Sara interlaced her fingers with his. And they walked to the bedroom together.

fin