Sometimes before the calm, comes the storm.

November 2008

Grissom sat at his home office desk when he heard a ping from his computer. A new email, it's sender: SS SeaShepard .com. He clicked it to find a .MOV file attached. Upon opening it he saw Sara's face, sun kissed and glowing, flashing a sidle-famous grin. She looked good.

He pressed play:

"Hello from Puerto Ayora!" Grissom leaned in a bit to see her face better. It was the first communication they'd had since she last left Vegas. He missed her voice, he realized. He took note of the background behind her, walls covered with photos that she'd clearly taken at sea. There was one photo hanging above the bed, but he couldn't make out who it was. One of the people was Sara, that he knew. But he couldn't tell who the guy was. Perhaps Harry, he though as he tried to get a better look, but he was quickly taken out of his thoughts as Sara continued to speak.

"We've been at sea for a little over a month now. You wouldn't believe the crew. Students, scientists, activists. The dinner conversations alone are mind blowing." A small smile danced on Grissom's lips as he watched her. "There's even this uh, Marine Biologist that reminds me a little bit of you. I wish that we could talk in person but, uh, this is the best that I could do." Grissom detected her nervous laugh and it made his stomach drop,

"I want to apologize for being out of touch."

His face lost all of its color at this. Sara wouldn't have apologized for what happened, not like this. His breath caught in his throat.

"I've been thinking about us a lot." She went on, "All the moments. I thought we could survive anything." She paused, wiping a sad smile off her face, "This trip has given me a lot of clarity. That last year in Vegas, I could barely breathe, let alone think. But, um—now, for the first time in a really long time, I'm happy. Before I left, you said somethings that I tried not to hear but now, uh, I think you were right."

His face grew sad realizing what she was saying. He felt a pit in his stomach, his mouth suddenly dry.

"If a relationship can't move forward, it withers." His words thrown back at him in her voice.

"I've been waiting for you to decide, but—sometimes not making a decision, is making a decision. Anyway—What I'm trying to say is, uh..." She looked down briefly before returning her gaze to the camera, piercing through him, "You don't have to worry about me anymore. I'm good. I'm really good. And honestly—I think it's better this way."

A sharp pain hit his chest, his heart constricting. He couldn't breathe, tears swelling behind his eyes. What did I do?

"Well then." She cleared her throat a bit before continuing, "This is um—This is goodbye, Gil. Be well." She flashed a sad smile before turning the camera off.

Grissom was left sitting at his desk with the eerie sound of the empty loft surrounding him. Why can't I breathe? Grissom's head fell into his hands, It's over, she's gone.

He shuffled to the bedroom and collapsed on the bed, suddenly feeling too heavy to carry his own weight. He heard as Hank trotted in after him, whimpering as he jumped up on the bed, resting his snout on Grissom's abdomen.

He stared at the ceiling trying to regain his composure but he couldn't. The pain was so great.

He closed his eyes, all the little moments rushing into view, playing out like vignettes:

Her swinging ponytail as she approached him in the lecture hall
The heat that emanated through his body when she first touched him, shaking his hand.
When she touched his cheek softly under the pretenses of drywall dust
Each and every flirtatious smile and gesture
The smell of her lavender shampoo
The first time they kissed, the feeling of all of that sexual tension dissipating like ocean waves rushing over him
Seeing her each time he woke up
Watching her jog with Hank
The look in her eye when she broke a case wide open
The way her head fit so perfectly laying on his chest.

His chest. The pain grew more poignant. Sharp and stabbing near his heart.

His phone began to ring, but he couldn't pick it up. He felt physically and mentally paralyzed. He just laid there, staring up at the ceiling, listing to its shrilling ring.

Sara closed the computer and began to cry, letting hot tears streak down her face, burning her cheeks. It was hard enough to say those words, let alone be strong while saying them. She hoped she was convincing, giving him a way out. She knew he needed it, to feel guilt free, to move on. She knew he needed her to be the one to wipe their hands of this. She did it for him.

She wiped quickly at the tears as a knock was heard at her door.

"Come in." Sara managed through a cracking voice. Sara glanced over to see Oliver in the doorway.

"Sara, You'll—" Oliver stopped at the sight of her. He walked in tentatively, "Sara... are you okay."

She quickly wiped at the reming tear, "Oh, yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." She smiled. This was Oliver Thomas, the marine biologist she'd mentioned just moments earlier in the video. She and Oliver had grown to be good friends since on the Shepard together. Oliver, who studied at Berkley just four years before she did was very intelligent. He looked a suitable mix of science-nerd and athlete with dark hair and olive skin. A subtle hint of hispanic accent lacing his speech.

"Gilbert?" He questioned.

She had mentioned her relationship to Oliver one night on their first week on the boat. She had been hopeful, still, then that he may show up at one of the port cities. But he hadn't. She nodded smally.

"I think it's over." She smiled sadly. Oliver walked over and took her hand in his.

"I know what will make you feel better. Follow me."

Sara followed Oliver to the edge of the boat, he threw her a wetsuit, "Suit up." He grinned and passed her an oxygen tank.

"Oliver, I'm not certified."

"I've been giving you lessons for two weeks now. These waters are calm and clear. Trust me, you'll be fine."

"Okay..." She spoke warily. "I trust you."

Sara slipped into the wetsuit, and let Oliver help her as he hooked up her oxygen tank, mask and regulator. He took a weighted belt and tightened it around her waist.

"Ready?"

"Ready." She replied.

They plunged into the water together, Sara instinctively held her breath as the water rushed over her. Breathe he signaled to her under the water. She took a breath in, hearing the sound of the air pushing through the regulator and filling her lungs. She exhaled. The sound of her breathing mixed with the water swooshing around her began to calm her; Taking her into the most relaxed state she's ever felt before. She descended further to catch up to him, fluttering her legs behind her. The water was so clear and warm. She breathed deeply and exhaled the same. Schools of fish changing direction around her.

Oliver turned around to look at her and signed the scuba sign for sea turtle, then pointed. Sara looked in the direction he aimed his finger at and squinted. Soon a collection of five or six sea turtles came swimming toward them, passing just underneath her. She smiled, causing her mask to fill with water, quickly she cleared it—just like Oliver had taught her.

They staid down there for another twenty minutes or so, until she alerted to Oliver that her air was running low. Slowly she asented to the surface, laughing as she pulled off her mask.

"Feel better?"

"Much." She smiled widely, letting herself float there, staring at the bright blue sky, feeling the sun kiss her cheeks. Oliver floated along side her and began to talk about the migration patterns of the sea life they'd just encountered.

Grissom finally answered the call after an hour of letting it ring. He got up, quickly fed Hank and left the loft. He drove along to the scene, finding it hard to see as he approached the flashing lights and yellow tape. He couldn't tell if it was the rain crashing into his windshield or the tears in his eyes.

"I should be giving you grief!" Catherine spoke loudly over the harsh sound of intense rain hitting mud puddles and umbrellas. "You were next up. Dispatch said you were unresponsive."

Grissom waived off Catherine's concern and talked through what was left of the scene with her.

"We've got to get this body out of here." Catherine yelled to the cadets. Everyone moved around him working fast as he stayed crouched down to the ground. The haevy rainfall masking the tears falling from his eyes. Her voice replaying in his head, "Before I left, you said some things I didn't want to hear. But now I think you were right—"

Catherine watched Grissom from a few feet away. Watching him shake smally. Watching his feature scrunch up. Watching him look to the sky, letting rain hit his face. Was he crying?

Grissom and Nick stood in autopsy asnick talked through the stab wounds in the shirt, counting them as he spoke. Nick looked up when he heard nothing but silence in return from Grissom, to see him pinching the bridge of his nose.

"What's the matter? You got a migraine?"

Grissom dropped his hand from his face, "No. Go call Brass."

"Nipples are swollen." Grissom observed as Nick reentered the room, hanging up the phone with Brass.

Later on in the shift the Grissom stood around the layout room table, looking through photos and evidence with Doc. Robbins and Catherine.

"It's all post mortem. It's hard to take pleasure in someone's pain when they're dead." Robbins mused.

"Which is the gone wrong part." Catherine spoke as she glanced between Grissom and Doc Robbins. Grissom who then abruptly left the room, case file in hand.

Catherine turned to Robbins, "You're a doctor, is that normal?"

"Grissom being socially awkward? Yeah, that's normal."

"He won't talk to me. And he doesn't appear to be sleeping much." Catherine concern was clear.

"Warrick's only been gone for a little over a month," Robbin's tried, "Grieving takes time."

"I know." She paused briefly, "I just, I don't think that's it. I think there's more."

"How so?"

"I think Sara left... I think she left for good."

"Oh." Robbins looked down now, feeling sad for his friend, "Unfortunately, as his colleagues, there's not much we can do about that." He smiled sadly.

Grissom got in his car and started driving. The deep rooted sadness leached through his body like tree routes taking their hold within him. It was suffocating, heartbreaking. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think. He started driving without knowing where he was really going... until he pulled up in front of her house.

He got out and stood in the rain for a few minutes, letting the cold water shower down on him. Feeling as cold as his heart. Rain water mixing with tears as he tried to compose himself. Eventually, his feet took him to her door, he knocked and waited patiently, the tears continuing to fall.

Heather looked through the door window to see him standing there, shaking with sadness.

"Grissom." She opened the door and he looked up now, eyes red, face drooped in sadness, "What are you doing here?"

"I should have called, I'm sorry. I—I, I didn't know I was coming." He shrugged.

"What do you want?"

"May I come in?"

"Of course." Heather moved to the side to let him in out of the cold. "Let me get you some tea, you look cold."

She returned moments later with a hot mug of tea in her hands, she handed it off to him, "Thank you."

She looked at him now, taking in his appearance. She hasn't seen Grissom since the last time she was in the hospital, since he reunited her with her granddaughter. She knew Sara was uncomfortable with their friendship, so she made a point to stay away. His face was sad, eyes tired and puffy with dark circles.

"When's the last time you got a good night sleep?"

"Bad dreams." He offered. But even that wasn't completely true. He found it impossible to sleep in his bed at home since Sara had left the second time, having not heard from her in over a month. And being at work was even worse, half of his memories of her were made in the confides of the lab walls. He couldn't escape her. When he could fall asleep, though, he was awoken with a start each time, Warrick's bloodied body wrapped in his arms filling his mind's walls.

"How can I help?"

"I uh, have a body with S&M type wounds. But there are inconsistencies. So I was hoping to get your first impressions."

"My first impression, is that you've changed." She paused and gestured for him to follow her upstairs.

"How have you been?"

Heather proceeded to tell him about her life since they'd last seen one another: Reconnecting with her granddaughter, earning her masters in psychology, opening a therapy practice. They moved to one of the rooms upstairs to discuss the case.

"These wounds are from needle play," She observed through the photos Grissom had handed her, "It's called stacking. May I touch you?"

Grissom nodded absently and watched as Heather moved her fingers to his chest, demonstrating what stacking looks likes. It was the first time he'd been touched in over a month, he realized. It felt foreign.

"I'd like to see photos of their bedroom."

Grissom nodded and pulled out his phone.

"Stokes."

"Nick, It's Grissom. I want photos of the Vic's bedroom."

"Yeah, we're here now. I'll bring photos back to the lab."

"No, I'm not at the lab. Turn on your camera's WiFi settings and turn on the automatic send feature, email them to me."

"Alright, boss." Nick paused, "Where are you?"

"Just email me the photos. Thanks."

Grissom stared out the window now, watching the rain fall, casting shadows on his face. Sara's voice still flowing through his mind, "If a relationship is in stasis, it withers."

"Does Sara know you're here?" Heather's voice brought him out of his thoughts.

"No."

"Am I your secret?"

"No." He said more sternly, "And you're not my therapist." He snapped, irritated to hear Sara's name come from Heather's mouth in this way. He sighed and regrouped himself, steering the conversation back to the case at hand.

The night went on, and Grissom continued to absently lead the case from Heather's home through phone calls and emails. Hours past and the sun began to come up.

"Lady heather and she could be sisters." Nick mused as they discussed the female suspect.

"Who's lady Heather?" Riley, the newest team member furrowed her brows.

"That's a whole different Oprah." Greg laughed.

"And I'm changing the channel." Catherine quipped, restoring the conversation.

"Has anyone seen Grissom?" Greg questioned as they all stood around the layout room.

"No." Catherine sad sadly, shaking her head. Suddenly realizing that Grissom was probably with Heather. She prayed that he wasn't doing something he'd regret.

Grissom and Heather sat together on the couch, enjoying a cup of tea as they continued to talk through the case, receiving updates from the team as they came in.

"May I make a personal observation? As a friend, not as a therapist." Heather moved closer to Grissom. "Everything I've told you you could have read in a book. I think the case is a mere pretext and you're here for a more personal reason." She watched as Grissom diverted his sad eyes, "Where's Sara?" He looked back at her now, lip slightly quivering.

He sat down on a nearby chair, Heather perched herself on the table opposite him.

"She's gone."

"What does that mean?"

"She left. She volunteered on a Sea Shepard headed for the Galapagos Islands."

"Did she ask you to go with her?"

"She did."

"What stopped you?"

"I don't know. A lot of things."

"Devotion to your work? Loyalty to your team? Fear of the unknown." She was hitting it all right on point, he realized. But her guesses were met with silence, "Do you regret your decision to not go with her?"

"It was beyond my control." He shrugged.

"Really?" She challenged. "Most relationships are over before they end. But you mourn the loss, conflicting emotions. But often times there's a sense of relief. We've all experienced it but no one want's to admit it."

"I didn't say the relationship was over." He spoke softly, shrugging again, innocent like.

"You didn't have to. Not making a decision was your decision." Heather's words pulsated through him, almost verbatim to Sara's words in the video. Grissom thought on this for a while, lip quivering again, tears stinging behind his eyes. "I think you're here because it's not home, it's not work, and this is the only place that doesn't remind you of Sara." She continued. "I have a guest bedroom upstairs, you can stay as long as you want."

Grissom looked up at her now and she could see the water pooling in his eyes.

"You're tired Gil." She soothed, "Let's get you set up upstairs." Grissom followed her back upstairs and to the spare room. He walked in and laid on the bed on his side, facing away from the door. He heard her begin to walk out.

"Heather." She stopped in her tracks, "Would you stay?"

She thought a moment before closing the door, her still inside the room, and walked back to the bed, she sat on a chair need him and took his hands in hers, looking into his eyes and seeing the pain and hurt. She stayed silent, letting his reel in his pain.

"I'm not sure what else I can do for you." She finally spoke.

"I just don't want to be alone." His voice was a mere whisper, laced with pain and despair.

"You don't have to be, Grissom. You choose to be."

He looked up at her now, confusion etched over his features.

"Do you feel any sense of relief? Even the smallest inkling?"

He shook his head against the pillow, "No." He whispered, choking on his words.

She continued, "Sara doesn't actually want to end this. She's doing it for you, because she thinks this is what you want, what you need in order to move on. If you don't want to move on, if you still love her, then you need to go after her."

"I can't. I can't leave the team."

"Maybe not now. But one day you're going to wake up and realize that letting her go was the biggest mistake of your life. You're going to wake up and see that Catherine and Nick have take promotions in other labs, that Greg has transferred to days, that Brass has retired and Warrick is still gone. You're going to wake up and be alone, fantasizing about the life you could have had." She paused, watching his chest heave in sadness, "No one can tell you when you'll be ready, Grissom. But when you are, you shouldn't fight it."

Heather signed internally, for she loved him too. But, to take advantage of this moment in their fragile relationship was outside of her morals. She'd let him find his way back to her. If he and Sara were truly meant to be together, she couldn't stand in the way of it.

Her words made sense, but he didn't want to hear it. He wasn't ready yet, and the feeling of being ready scared him too much to understand what that would be like. Soon his eyes grew heavy and the darkness began to flicker in, taking him into his first peaceful rest in over a month.

Heather stayed only a moment longer after he'd fallen asleep, taking in his appearance once more. It broke her heart to see him this way. Suddenly his phone rang, she quickly moved to silence it, before it could wake him. Catherine appeared at the caller ID.