A/N: Some dialogue in this chapter is taken directly from Immortality itself, and isn't mine. You'll recognise it. ;-)

It was with trembling hands that Sara inserted the memory card into her computer and opened the software to view the video. Before she could play the recording, there was a knock on her door and with a sigh of impatience she told her visitor to come in.

Ecklie popped his head in, a cautious smile on his lips. "Is this a bad time?" he asked.

Sara gave her head a shake. "Sorry, Conrad," she said, "I didn't mean to snap. It's just that it's been a long shift, that's all."

Ecklie nodded, stepped fully into her office. "I won't keep you long. I saw you were still here and…anyways…I just wanted to check in with you. See how you're bearing up so far."

"So far, so good," Sara replied.

"And also to let you know I'm on the case for more staff."

"Thank you."

Ecklie stared at her briefly before he nodded his head. "Don't forget to go home, Sara," he said, making for the door. "If you let it, this job'll just take over your life."

Sara gave him a pallid smile.

"I mean it. Go home and get some sleep. Whatever's next on your to-do list can wait until tonight I'm sure."

Sara gave Ecklie a pacifying nod and smile, but no sooner had the sheriff closed the door behind him than the smile died on her lips and she turned her attention back to her computer. She had one more thing to do, and then she'd go home. She thought about fast-forwarding to the end as Lindsey had suggested, but then thought better of it. If she was going to do this, however punishing it was, she'd watch it all.

All of Heather's comments pertained to the case, and none related to her or Grissom, or both, even if she tried reading between the lines, which she did, and idly she wondered if she was even viewing the right recording. What she did notice though was how worn out and pallid Heather looked, how vulnerable too, now that her audience was gone. And as Heather spoke, her voice soft and breaking at times, Sara glimpsed for the first time at the woman Grissom saw, not at the persona she'd craftily created and presented to others. The officer finally stood, indicated they'd finished. Heather signed her statement and, taking it from her, the officer turned and left.

Sara let out a long sigh, angry with herself for wasting her time when she'd known all along that viewing the video would serve no purpose. She was about to stop the recording when Grissom's soft voice came on, stopping her in her tracks. The breath caught in her chest. A stiff smile forming on her face, Heather changed her focus to a point just beyond the camera, and Sara guessed that Grissom must have been there watching all the while.

"That's it," he said, "We're done. Thanks for your statement."

Sitting back, Sara swallowed the lump in her throat and watched Grissom move into the frame. Her heartbeat quickened as her eyes locked on him, tracking his body movement and mannerisms, despite the fact that he had his back to the camera. Her nerves were fraught with tension and anticipation while he looked to all intent and purposes perfectly at ease.

"The DA may ask you to testify," he went on, clasping his hands together, "but that's entirely up to you."

Sara's eyes flicked to Heather on the screen, waiting for her reply. She was curious. She'd never seen them interact before, not like this without other people present, and wondered at how comfortable they would be with each other, how formal, at how deep their friendship really went. Would he offer words of comfort? A warm embrace, maybe?

"Sure," Heather said blankly, "Whatever." Then she reached down for her purse.

Pausing, Grissom slowly sat down at the table across from Heather who, head tilting to the side in interest, stopped in her tracks. Sara could see his profile face now, and as she waited with bated breath to hear what he had to say she couldn't help noticing the tautness of his posture, the clasped hands and interwoven fingers betraying his underlying anxiety despite his apparent calmness. He wasn't as in control as he'd like to appear. Sara wondered if Heather had noticed it too.

"Heather, before I get back on my boat," he said, and Sara could well imagine the trembling half-smile that accompanied his words, "I wanted to thank you."

Sara frowned and found herself holding her breath for his next words.

"Thank me for what?" Heather asked, stealing the words out of Sara's mouth.

Grissom took a breath, hesitating, and she knew he was choosing his words carefully. "When we first met, I—I had a shell around my heart. I'd lost my belief in humanity. The only truth I knew was empirical science. I—I just wanted to thank you for opening my heart."

Feeling tears of jealousy rise, Sara brought a closed hand to her mouth. She knew it was stupid and irrational, but she couldn't help how she felt right then. How could he bare himself and speak so candidly to Heather? Why couldn't he open up to her, talk to her like that? The sincerity of his words pierced right through her, and she didn't understand why Catherine had insisted she watched this. She wiped at her tears angrily. This wasn't about her; this was about him thanking Heather for being his friend all these years.

Sara was about to turn the recording off, when Grissom said, "Through you, I learned to love someone."

Her hand froze on the computer mouse. Her ears pricked up, her frown returned. Had she heard him right? She paused the recording, wound it back a little and watched it again. "Through you, I learned to love someone." Her heart hitched, ached. Dared she hope that someone was her and not Heather?

"Sara?" Heather asked, looking and sounding so sure of herself.

She couldn't see his face, but she knew even before he spoke what the answer was. His body language gave him away, and closing her eyes Sara let out a long shaky breath. More tears escaped, and her eyes reopening she brushed them away.

"She restored my faith in the human being," he said, and Sara stopped breathing. "Plus, she helped me with my crossword puzzles." He must have smiled then, because Heather smiled back, and Sara instinctively did too. He paused, and when he spoke again he sounded sad and melancholy, regretful even, his pain and longing plain for her to hear. "She's been my best friend. I'll miss her. For the rest of my life."

Sara pinched her lips and waited for more, but it looked like he'd said it all. He and Heather stared at each other silently for a moment longer before they pushed to their feet, Heather reaching down for her purse, and left the room. Her tears were falling freely now, the sadness and resignation in his words heart-wrenching, compounding her own wretchedness.

And yet her sense of confusion remained. If all this time he loved her why ask for a divorce? If he loved her, if he still loved her, why stay away? Why not come back and at least try to patch things up? Did he think it was too late? Was that why he was settling for friendship with her instead? Because he didn't think he had the right for more? What should she do now, she wondered? He was headed back to San Diego today. She couldn't let him leave like that, believing she didn't love him back. She'd been so cold to him, so protective of her own feelings that she hadn't thought of his.

Sara hurriedly ejected the video memory card, returned it to its case back in the envelope and the envelope back in the box. Grabbing her jacket and her purse, she took the box back to the evidence locker and rushed out of the lab and to her car. It was still early; she might just catch him before he left. She fixed her cell to the dashboard holder and tried dialling his number. The call went straight to voicemail, and at a loss as to what to say she didn't leave a message. The call would show as a missed call, so he'd know she'd called anyway.

Sara was lucky with the traffic and reached Betty's apartment complex in good time. With no time to waste, she jogged up to Betty's building and breathless jabbed her finger to the intercom, only belatedly remembering to look at the tiny camera that fed the picture to Betty. The door clicked open. Sara pushed on it hard, letting herself in, and forgoing the elevator took the stairs to Betty's first floor apartment. The door opened before she got there, and looking a mixture of surprise and puzzlement Betty stepped out.

"Sara," she signed quickly. "What are you doing here? Has something happened?"

Panting, Sara opened her mouth to reply but then remembered to use her hands instead. "Gil," she signed, and paused to think of the correct signs before she carried on. "I've come to see him. Is he here?"

Betty's expression changed to that of sorrow as understanding seemed to dawn. She shook her head in reply, and Sara's heart sank. Betty took a step back, then turned and beckoned Sara inside. Sara looked behind her toward the stairwell, then grudgingly followed Betty in.

"You're too late," Betty signed, turning after closing the door behind Sara.

Too late, Sara thought, the signs replaying in her head.

Looking sad, Betty opened her hands in a helpless gesture and sighed. "He's gone. He left over two hours ago."

Sara frowned as she made sense of the signs, then checked her watch and blew a deep breath. He must have been on his way to the airport when he'd stopped by the lab to see her. No wonder he hadn't hung about. His taxicab must have been waiting outside for him. At a loss and suddenly feeling very tired, Sara rubbed a shaky hand over her eyes and down her face. Betty touched her gently on the arm, and Sara let herself be led to the couch.

Sara sat down and buried her head in her hands. What was she doing coming here anyway, she wondered suddenly? What was she hoping to achieve? Did she think he would put his life on hold for her and stay? Would she for him, if he asked her to? She had no right to be here. She had no right to go after him.

Betty tapped her on the knee, and Sara looked up with a start. The older woman tried a smile, then made the sign for cup of tea, and Sara shook her head before automatically bringing a flat hand to her chin and lowering it in thanks. She felt deflated and lost. Betty sighed, then sat down next to her and patted her hand to her knee again. The gesture however comforting it was meant to be felt awkward, the look of pity in Betty's eyes more than she could stand. Sara restlessly sprang to her feet and wrapping her arms around herself began pacing the spot in front of the couch.

"I'm sorry," she signed suddenly, making a fist and rotating it over her chest. Her hands were shaking, and she balled them into fists to stop the tremor. Her signing was hesitant and only approximate, but she hoped Betty got the gist of it. "I shouldn't have come. I don't know why I came." She pointed to herself again and then stopped, shook her head. Tears formed, filling her eyes, and she looked away.

Betty stood up, caught her eye and gave her a tender smile before affectionately brushing her hand to her cheek in a motherly gesture she'd seen her give Grissom on a couple of occasions. Staring straight in Sara's eyes, she pulled her hand back and shook her head disparagingly. She raised her hands and kept them poised for a moment before she sighed.

"He didn't want to leave," she signed, and frowning Sara lowered her eyes, concentrating on the older woman's confident hands. "But he made himself go." Betty paused, and Sara looked up sharply, hoping she'd understood correctly. Betty shrugged a helpless shoulder and stared at Sara intently. "You've been here before, haven't you?" she went on slowly. "You and Gil?"

Sara's tears returned, and unable to hold Betty's probing gaze Sara averted her eyes and nodded her head forlornly, resignedly.

Betty moved in her eye line. "Do you love him?" she asked with her hands.

Sara didn't have to think of her answer. She simply held Betty's eyes steadily and once again nodded her head. She hoped her heartache was plain to see, because she didn't have the signs to express what she felt. Raising her hands, she searched for the correct sign and managed, "Always," before once again dropping her hands uselessly.

Betty stared at Sara's dejected face a beat longer, then let out a long breath and turned away. She stood there a moment, hesitating, before she walked out of the room and returned, holding a piece of paper she held out to Sara. Frowning, Sara made to take it, but visibly reluctant to hand it over Betty paused and her frown deepening Sara dropped her hand. It was almost as if she was giving it to Sara against her better judgement.

"If you go to Gil," Betty signed, paper in hand, her stern gaze on Sara's face all the while, "you've got to be sure." She stopped to make sure Sara had understood, before adding, "He is hurting too."

Betty paused again, watched Sara for another long moment before finally holding out the paper. Sara took the paper and as she read the information on it understood why Betty was being so cautious and reluctant. Grissom had jotted down the name of the airline, the number and time of departure of his flight. Sara looked up at Betty and stared at her with disbelief, then quickly checked her watch. His flight left in forty-five minutes. She'd never make it on time. And even if she did, he'd most probably already be through passport control. She sighed, glanced up to Betty with a sad smile.

"I am too late," she signed hesitantly.

Betty's face mirrored Sara's desolation. "It's never too late," she replied with her hands.

Sara nodded, apologised for the intrusion, then turned on her heels and left, got into her car, started it up and then sat there. Her mind was blank; she felt completely drained of energy. She knew she should go home, eat some breakfast and catch a little sleep before she'd have to clock on again, but she couldn't muster the strength. She thought about driving to the airport, but what would it accomplish? By the time she got there his plane would be soaring into the sky anyway.

It wasn't as if he could stay, or she could go with him. They both had commitments, their lives seemingly on two very different tracks. No, maybe it was better this way, less complicated. They'd parted on good terms, and she vowed she would make more of an effort to keep in touch, be a friend to him. She blew a breath, dried her face, then slipped on her sunglasses and pulled away, drove on autopilot. At the intersection, instead of taking a left to go home, she turned right. Before she could think on what she was doing, she took another right turn, headed toward the Strip and McCarran airport.

What if he'd deliberately left his flight details with Betty, she couldn't help wondering? What if until the very last moment he was waiting, hoping for her to turn up and tell him he was making a mistake? She owed it to herself, and she owed it to him, to at least try. She had no trouble finding a space in the short-term parking garage and after locking the car jogged over to terminal 1 and departures. As usual the airport was packed, and weaving through the bustling crowds she headed for the closest TV monitor. His flight was on time and boarding.

She rushed over to passport control but only half-heartedly now and didn't see any signs of him. She craned her neck past the guard, checking the winding lines of people waiting to go through customs. Her disappointment palpable, she blew a deep breath, checked herself and her surroundings, and then slowly retraced her steps back out of the terminal. And even then, she couldn't help searching around, scanning the crowds, shops and gangways, the many eating places and waiting areas, for his face.

Back in her car she called his cell again, and this time when she got his voicemail she didn't hang up. "Gil, it's me," she said, with false cheeriness. "I—I hope you have—had a good flight. Call me when you get in." She was going to add more, but then thought better of it and hung up just as a plane took off overhead. And as she queued at the exit barrier tracking its ascent with her eyes she wondered if he was on it.

The roads were quiet as she drove home, the sun high in the sky. She pulled up in her drive, locked the Prius, and head held low made straight for the front door. She was reaching for her key in her purse when someone stepped out from under the porch and stood there in the shadows, watching her.

Startled, Sara stopped in her tracks, removed her sunglasses and stared, tears once again filling her eyes. Looking emotional too and somewhat uncertain, Grissom took a hesitant step toward her, and then another, and she walked over to him, slowly at first and then faster, as though reeled in by an invisible thread. A trembling smile breaking across his face he opened his arms out to her, and she fell into his embrace, the tears that had stood poised in her eyes finally falling. They held each other tightly for a long moment, before he pulled back, cupped her face into his hands and stared at her earnestly. The love she saw shining in his watery eyes chased away her last lingering doubts.

"Your flight," she gasped.

His shoulder rose as his smile widened. "There'll be others."