You know, I always thought that happily-ever-after endings would never come to me. I never thought that they existed. Even as a child, I never really watched those Disney princess movies, choosing to remain in reality and remain on a pathway that had me escaping that institution that I was stuck in for many years. I couldn't think of possibly have a Prince Charming come riding on a white horse, rescuing me, when I could just do it myself…and I did. I took off just before my last year of high school and found myself back with my parents' home…only to find it empty of the two people that mattered in my life. They were gone.
And so, I had to take care of myself. Nobody else could do it for me, not even Chris and Eddie, the same brothers that promised the same…and failed in those promises eventually.
After moving out of Las Vegas for the first time, I traveled and worked in the C.S.I. departments of Miami, New York City, Hartford, Augusta and Charleston. And I was so good at what I did that I was considered to be one of the best in the field. I had made many friends and enemies apparently, dead and alive now, ignoring the dangers that I didn't realize that were there, and found out that even the best C.S.I. had to crack and fall to her lowest point: the one in her career.
Then, I moved back to Las Vegas because I was threatened…felt it hot and fiery on my back and ran…and solved the murder of my parents' because I found no other way to satisfy my life, no other way to make that piece of the puzzle fit perfectly in my life again. I had an obsession that needed to be sated, one that needed to end.
Eventually, it did. With the help of the Las Vegas crime lab, I did. And Jason Napolitano was killed by my own hands at a high school showdown and his widow and children devastated.
But, as it is always quoted: "The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few…or the one."
After I came back to this godforsaken city in May of 2008, to attend the funeral of a friend, I thought that nothing could go wrong any further and that, with my job back, life could go on normally and that Nick and I could be friends perhaps, co-workers civilly talking at a distance and meeting for drinks and silly dances occasionally. Hell, I had my boyfriend, best friend and child with me and I thought that nothing could possibly go wrong ever again. Of course, I was proven wrong.
Now, here I am, three years later: happily married to the man that I always thought to be with forever and with two children of my own, one of them his and the other adapted. I'm thirty-seven years old and already – despite feeling so old and worn out, especially chasing around two young children under the age of ten – feel as if I had lived a life fulfilled.
Before we even skipped town and eloped, just as we planned from the start, Nick and I talked over many things, most of it the mistakes we had made beforehand. Our petty differences put aside, we knew that the past made us ready for this future: ready for children, ready for a place of our own and, most certainly, ready for us. This time – without the interference of Board meetings, quitting and being fired from jobs, lack of sleep and tempers, families pulling us this way and that and even the shadow of guilty, knowing that I killed the father of my first child – we know that our relationship was going to last. We put it all behind us, that stress that made us snap and hurl, and started anew.
I admitted to being too addicted to my depression pills (using it as an excuse to stop myself from falling into insanity) and even Eric, knowing that abuse in many ways always meant the end of life as we knew it. Nick admitted to being traumatized by being buried alive all those years ago and even of his past problems, like being molested as a child by a last-minute babysitter. We realized that, in many ways, trauma defined us and made us who we are today, but it clashed horribly, in the worst way we could imagine, and while it ended us – that entity – the first time, a second time made us stronger.
Counseling helped us along the way, friends most of all. Catherine, from experience, helped me form a closer bond with Nick. Nick turned to Grissom for help. Whatever assistance he received from the stoic night manager of the crime lab, I don't know. But, whatever it was, it helped. And it pushed us closer together.
On Michael's birthday in July (celebrated with Chris and his family and with Eddie and Grace), we both announced to him that we were getting married. I didn't know what his reaction was going to be, so waited until then (a birthday gift indeed, we thought), surprised that the little boy had grown fond of Nick and was happy to hear that he was going to be his stepfather.
Chris, Rachael, Rob, Eddie and Grace…well, it took them by surprise too, quite literally. Mouths opened, they all couldn't quite convey the words to say. Rob couldn't even sign to me what he felt, the shock was that felt. But, as the days passed, they all said their congratulations, knowing that I was stubborn enough to go through something like this and trusting me when I said that our problems were worked out, saying that this time, a promise was out there to break Nick if he did something stupid or divorced me. It was taken as a broad hint.
One night in late September, Nick and I took two week off from work (me leaving Michael with Chris, one month to go before we gave the house over to the next owners) and left Las Vegas: just the two of us. Well, I had given my two week notice to Ecklie finally – so tired of the intrigue and puzzle that never seem to amuse me any longer – and taken the last two weeks off as vacation time as a final farewell to my undeclared enemy. Nick had taken his vacation time as well, but had to work extra hours because he was taking too many days off…so Ecklie said. Either way, we were free for a while.
So, on October 3, 2008, in San Francisco, California (after a week of giggling and having a good old time), Nick and I picked up a Justice of the Peace late one night and married under the Golden Gate Bridge at Fort Point.
One week later, we returned to Las Vegas and both moved out of our homes. Well, I had to help Nick move his things out, since he had extra time at the lab to make up for. In either case, we all moved out to another home – one I had picked out just for Michael and I previously – and settled in perfectly, knowing that this time, when life seemed too good to be true…it really was. This time, all things good and green were staying that way.
There was one sore spot in our marriage, though: children. Nick and I wanted one child to ourselves at least, to keep Michael happy and keep him company also. We both didn't want him to be an only child in the Stokes family (Nick having finally adapted him, Michael gladly taking him as his father and visiting his half-siblings, Karen's three children) and tried, even before we married, to conceive a child. I even forgo all forms of birth control and tried, but we kept failing.
Finally, in late 2009, I was happy to tell Nick that I was finally pregnant with our only child. Christmastime that year was tight: I was a full time housewife (my new "job" that seemed to have a new spin on it every single day) and he was still working at the lab. At the time, Grissom left, Sara was at the lab on and off (she had, in the meantime, married Grissom, like we all thought) and Catherine became the supervisor, Nick her assistant. One Ray Langston had joined the team to replace Grissom and, time and again, disappointment followed another. Times changed. Langston proved himself to be a capable C.S.I. and we all knew it. But, somehow, I knew that he wasn't going to last…and he didn't. Two years later, he left due to circumstances I dare not say out loud, even to myself. And in came D.B. Russell, who took Catherine's job as supervisor.
In the meantime, I had my own plans to make with Nick (suffering from emotional strain and needing a break, going through therapy many times and in my arms crying when we were sleeping together at night). Michael was already five years old, in Kindergarten and running around, excited to have a family at long last. Having a little brother or sister made him smile and it was contagious. Even Nick had to grin. We were a family now. And he couldn't forget it this time. There couldn't be room for division anymore.
Our lives soon became more perfect. Our first and only daughter, Danielle Celeste Stokes, was born on May 16, 2010, when I was thirty-six years old and Nick was almost thirty-nine. And the circle – the one that we had wanted for so long now and had finally achieved in the time given to us – had run its course and had completed itself. We were a complete family now.
There is so much to say about the years we've been together. Since 2003 – when I first came back to Vegas and came to know who Nick really was – I had been tangled and enmeshed into spider webs that could stick me…but chose not to in the very end. I had stepped out of that role finally and became myself: Maggie Stokes, a housewife, mother of two and happily married.
There are always problems, of course. Nick and I fight it out every once in a while because we're under so much strain. But, we know in our hearts that this isn't the end anymore. I wasn't going to run away anymore and he wasn't going to turn his back in me anymore. Death would do us part, after all.
Oh, hell, each ending has a new beginning. I don't know where it'll end up with each new pathway, but at least I now know that I can stand up on my own two feet and face each new day as a new beginning. I can handle my husband and children without trying to hide in a corner. I can stand up to our problems, bring up up-front and know that we can solve them together.
My ending is my beginning. That much I know now. That much I can now face.
And that could finally be the story of my life.