Winter 2007. Once again, Las Vegas, Nevada, but also a very little bit Williamstown, Massachusetts.

Grissom knew he'd made Sara sad. That made him sad. He wanted to make her happy. For the last year or two (ever since he'd found out just how very much sadness she'd had to endure in life), his goal in life had been to make her happy. Unfortunately, he was pretty bad at this stuff, so he didn't always succeed. He hoped he succeeded enough.

He'd put off telling her about his month-long sabbatical, which he would be spending at Williams College (all the way over on the East Coast, in Massachusetts), teaching a course on the seasonal behaviors of the Walden Pond swamp mosquito. He'd put off telling her because he hadn't known the right way to make her understand it wasn't about her.

He should have given her more credit; when he'd told her, she'd understood it wasn't about her, that it was about these serial killings, about the burnout he was experiencing, about everything but her. She'd understood that, but she'd still been sad he didn't feel like he could talk to her about it. She was sad he'd left it so long to tell her. She was inevitably sad that they'd barely started living together, it felt like, and here he was leaving for a month. He wanted her to be happy, and instead he'd made her sad. He knew he wasn't very good at this.

From Williamstown, he sent her a cocoon he'd found. He was very excited about it, but he didn't include a note because he didn't know what to say.

They exchanged emails and occasional texts, but the emails and texts were almost businesslike in their efficiency, nothing like the rambling missives they'd exchanged long ago when they'd lived in different states and pretended not to be in love.

Then he wrote her a letter, though. He quoted Shakespeare to her. He told her he missed her. But the letter didn't quite seem appropriate for the moment, and he didn't like that he still couldn't seem to find his own words for how he felt about her. So, after a few weeks away, he instead called her from his temporary lodgings, at a time he figured she probably wouldn't be working or asleep. He hoped she wasn't still upset.

She answered on the second ring.

"Hey," she said, softly.

"Hey." He waited a beat. "I miss you."

"Well, how do you do to you as well." She laughed. "I miss you, too. So does Hank."

"Tell him I miss him."

"I will." She laughed again.

He loved her laugh. He loved everything about her. "I love you," he told her.

"I know. I love you, too."

"Good." He sighed. "I wanted to call sooner…."

"We agreed you wouldn't. You needed a break. That was kind of the point."

"I know, but not a break from you. And I still wanted to call…."

"That's sweet," she said, and she meant it.

"I just…." Words, Gil. Words. "I really…." He rubbed his temple. "I, ah…. I really adore you, you know." Even from across the country, he could hear her breath hitch. He waited.

"Well, we're pretty fond of you, too. Although Hank…."

"What?"

"I told him about the package you sent me. I wasn't thinking. Now he wants to know why he didn't get a stick, too."

"You dimed me out to my own dog."

"Sorry." Sara was amused. "Now he's afraid you're going out petting puppies and forgetting all about him."

"I would never. Please tell Hank I will have treats for him upon my return, as promised, and a New England stick, too, if that's what he would like."

"Did you hear that, buddy?" Sara asked the dog, who was lying beside her on the bed as she played with his ears. Hank briefly raised his head and looked at her—as if to inquire what on earth she could be saying to him—then he nestled it back in beside her leg.

"Okay, he's looking a little more cheerful now," Sara said as she redirected her attention back to the phone call. "But he still insists he doesn't want you shacking up with any puppies while you're away. He says he better not smell any other dogs on you when you get home."

"Please assure Hank he is the only one with whom I want to share my bed."

"Oh, really?" She laughed again.

"Aside from you, my dear. I think that should go without saying."

From then on, things felt right again. He told her about Williams and the class he was teaching and his students (none of whom could ever come anywhere close to matching his "star pupil"), and she told him about some of the more interesting cases she'd worked since he'd been away. (She didn't tell him about the whole reverse forensics incident with Catherine and Mike Keppler. She didn't want to worry him. But she would most certainly be telling him all about it when he got back.)

Then eventually she asked him where exactly he was, and he told her. She asked him what he was wearing, and he told her. This time, though, in this call, he followed up. He asked her where she was, and she told him. He asked her what she was wearing, and she told him. They continued from there, and this time he was an active participant in the call. This time, they were partners.

He didn't start calling her every day—the point was still that he had needed a break, and he would be home soon anyway. But they talked a few more times before his return. Every time, he asked her where she was. Every time, he asked her what she was wearing….

He returned to Vegas as planned. He finally found her in the hallway of the lab; she'd just been at a garbage dump. It was, as she said, obvious (she smelled like literal trash), but it didn't bother him in the slightest. (What kind of man would be bothered by that anyway?) God, she was beautiful, even with dirt on her face. (Surely no decent man would be bothered by that either.)

He wanted to take her home right then, to take her right then, but he couldn't, of course. He didn't. Then he had to deal with the whole Mike Keppler fiasco, and Catherine…. Catherine was devastated.

Sara sent him a text asking him to let her know when he was on his way home; once finally on his way home, he did. He got there, and all the blackout curtains were drawn. He opened the door, and all the lights were out. Why were the lights out? She knew he was on his way; it wasn't that he ever expected her to be waiting for him (he didn't, of course), but at the lab she'd said he'd see her later, and he'd very much been hoping she planned to be home and awake.

As he entered the townhouse, she told him not to turn on the lights. He didn't see her immediately, though, as he put down his bags. He could see she had a few candles lit. He was surprised Hank wasn't at the door to cover him in welcome-home slobbery boxer kisses.

As if reading his mind, Sara told him Hank was at the sitter's. "I told him he'd get his treats tomorrow. He was very understanding."

Grissom saw her, then, standing at the top of the stairs, near the couch. She walked toward him a bit. He could see she was wearing a silk robe he'd bought her. Then quickly she wasn't wearing the silk robe anymore. She was wearing… well, it wasn't much, and it was very, very lacy. He'd never seen it—not that there was really very much of it to see—before. For a brief moment, he forgot how to breathe.

"I think this was probably more expensive than all the other underwear I've ever owned combined, so please, please be careful with it."

It occurred to him that he should buy her more expensive underwear. It would definitely be worth it.

They moved closer together. Sara murmured something about pinning her down. Very shortly, not even light could pass between them (assuming there'd been much light). He pinned her down. That night especially, and for some time to come, they were very, very happy together.

Oh, and Grissom was ultimately covered in many slobbery boxer kisses. He not so secretly loved Hank's kisses. But he still preferred Sara's.

Eventually he left the letter he'd written her while in Williamstown, the letter in which he'd quoted Shakespeare to her and told her how much he'd missed her, on her bedside table. Well, he'd stuck it in a book, and he'd left the book on top of another book on her bedside table. He wanted her to feel like she'd discovered it. She discovered it. Then she again put on the very expensive, very, very lacy lingerie, and he was very, very happy. He thought again that he should buy her more expensive underwear.

Not that day, but later (and on many occasions in the future), he did. It was always worth it. She was always worth it.

Until next time, the end.

UP NEXT: NEXT STORY: NO, I NEVER MEANT TO HURT YOU: THE GOOD, THE BAD, AND THE HAPPY ENDING(S): MORE ENCOUNTERS; A CONVERSATION TAKES PLACE.

NOTES

On asking her what she was wearing:

Since I am making a reference back to my first, how-they-met story, which I posted in the fall, I will confirm that I am saying he became an active participant in (and even initiator of) the phone sex this time around!

SOUNDTRACK LISTING

Typhoon. "Prosthetic Love."

EPISODE REFERENCE(S)

07x11. "Leaving Las Vegas." Original air date: January 4, 2007.

07x13. "Redrum." Original air date: January 25, 2007.

07x14. "Meet Market." Original air date: February 1, 2007.

07x15. "Law of Gravity." Original air date: February 8, 2007.

A/N:

That brings this particular story to an end (though I am still far from finished with the two lovely science nerds and their journey). I've probably said this before, but my goal with this series of stories is (1) to give the science nerds as much happiness as possible—well, really as reasonable— within the confines of canon and (2) to make canon make as much sense as possible. (That second one may be a bit of a stretch, given those later season events we'd all otherwise rather ignore!)

Canon tells me Sara and Grissom are—when together—good, kind, and respectful to each other. I think they have to have been mostly happy when they were together in Vegas (or else, really, what are we all doing here?). But I also think that, given later events, some of their anxieties (especially Grissom's) must have always remained somewhere (not necessarily all that far) below the surface. Those two strands are what I was aiming to convey in this particular story, so I hope I succeeded!

Regarding last week's chapter, I was super happy to read that my description of a Chicago-style hot dog was recognizable to someone from Chicago! I also (thank you!) got the actual pro tip that Devil Dawgs on State has a good vegan dog and free tots—yum, sign me up! (As I mentioned, I've only been to Chicago once, but I had suuuch a good trip, so I am hoping for a return in the next couple years!) This story will not be the last time this series gives a Chicago/Cubs shoutout, so I just hope not to embarrass myself in the (further) attempts!

As for the next story (a one-shot, which should be up in about two weeks), I will be looking at what happened with our two lovely science nerds following the events of "The Good, The Bad and the Dominatrix" (07x23) and Sara's "It's fine." Grissom's "It's all yours, my dear" in "Living Doll" (07x24) and Sara's flirty "Hello, Gilbert" in "Dead Doll" (08x01) both indicate they got past the events of 07x23. I like to think that, before the events of 07x24, Sara and Grissom were in a pretty good place and both had a good idea of just how much Sara meant to Grissom. So what happened? In my story, a conversation takes place….

Thank you all for joining me on this journey! For those who have interacted with this story, I truly love hearing from you! I hope that you all enjoyed this story and that you'll be back for the next! 💕