A/N: Just wanted to give a quick shout out and thank you to everyone whose been following this fanfic from the beginning. It's been quite a journey, hu? I've had a lot of fun writing it, and reliving our favorite moments from his incredible love story. Thank you again to everyone who has reviewed and commented. Your words are truly appreciated!
Also, just a reminder that I am NOT ending this series at the end of Immortality episode. I do plan to follow their love story all the way through to the end ;). So keep looking for updates, they'll be coming frequently.
Anyway, Here's chapter 63! Enjoy!
Grissom watched as the young redhead girl he'd bumped into when he'd first arrived walked toward them.
"Hey you. What'dya got there?" Catherine laughed through a smile, "You going somewhere?"
"No. This is Mr. Grissom's. Did you forget your luggage? I found it outside the front door."
"That's not mine."
"It's not?" She furrowed her brow's and picked up the name tag on the luggage.
"Has your name on it."
Sara turned to Grissom with a confused look, realizing he wore the same one.
"Bomb!" Catherine yelled and grabbed the girls hand, pulling her away.
In that same moment Grissom instinctually threw his arm around Sara and rushed her down the hallway and out of the lab. Feet moving fast. Once they broke through the double doors and the sunshine hit their faces he turned to her. His hand automatically moving her her cheek, pushing her hair out of her face.
"Are you okay?" His face was so close to hers, his voice soft and concerned. She could feel the panic of people swarming around them but suddenly nothing else mattered. The feeling of his hand on her face was more than she could take. Warm and comforting. She watched as his eyes squinted with worry.
He felt her head nod with small movements below his hand as she answered, "Fine." She cleared her throat, "I'm fine."
She wanted to cry. Desperately wanted to cry. Every feeling she'd pushed down bubbled up and threatened to burst free. She mustered up all over her strength to push it back down. She quickly reached up to her cheek and peeled his hand off her face. Lowering it for him. He squeezed his hand ever so slightly as she did and gave him an small, crooked smile. So small that he almost didn't see it.
"I uh—" He began but then quickly retreated.
Catherine, D.B. Grissom and Sara all stood around the AV lab as Dave handed them the SD card he'd pulled from the body that was discovered in the suitcase just as Henry rushed in.
"Do you guys remember Wolfowitz?"
"That's the guy that was convicted of killing Heather's daughter." Grissom remembered aloud.
"It's also the guy Heather almost killed until you intervened." Sara pointed out, showing Grissom his own selective memory.
Sara remembered that night very well. He and Sara had been dating for nine months at that point. She'd watch as he broke all his typical rules while investigating the case once he knew it was linked to her. Watched as he went out of his way to console her, to communicate with her—something at even that stage of their relationship he was still having a hard time doing with her. She remember letting herself into his town house that night, knowing they had plans to spend the evening together once shift was over. She remembered falling asleep alone in his bed and waking up to it still empty. She remembered him not mentioning a thing about it, and her not prying—afraid of the answer she might get in return. Was she still harboring those feelings? She thought to herself.
"It was Wolfowitz in that suitcase." Henry spoke, taking Sara out of her thoughts.
"Well clearly someone out there is obsessed with Lady Heather, and from the looks of what we found in the suitcase—Somebody might be obsessed with you too." Sara's voice softened toward the end of her sentence, realizing the weight of her words as she spoke. An intense feeling began to form in her gut. She was worried for his safety.
Grissom walked outside, realizing he needed to be alone with his thoughts. He felt confused and out of place. The lab bustled around him, his old team seemed almost unrecognizable. Greg could barely look at him. Greg, the once very green CSI who'd bend over backwards to make Grissom proud was now shying away from even being in his presence. And Sara, he could see how unnerved she was at having his presence in the lab. Could sense the tension rising in her shoulders and jaw. He needed to retreat, to be alone.
He walked out of the lab and found a nearby bench to sit on. Mindlessly, he took out a moleskin notebook and began sketching whales a sharks. The soft methodic motions of his wrist moving back and forth to fill in the shapes began to calm him. Peace began to restore to his mind.
"Hard at work I see."
Grissom looked up to see Catherine approaching him. Had she followed him out here?
"I am." He spoke simply, returning his attention to his sketching.
"Drawing... sea creatures."
"Whales and Sharks." He offered, "Metaphor for Vegas if you think about it. The whales bring the money in, the sharks take it away. Whales are bigger in size and stature but they're the submissive. Sharks are smaller but they are by far the more dominate. I think someone's out there playing the dominate but he's really the submissive."
"Okay." Catherine spoke as she sat down on the bench beside him, "Listen, I need a favor. The new girl—She's having a bit of a rough one. She thinks she let you down. I was hoping you might be able to help her process the suitcase? Giver her a little of that Grissom TLC? She could really use it."
"I'd rather not. I'm quite content here. Where did that girl come from anyway?"
Catherine stared at him in utter disbelief, not that he'd notice—Grissom still stared at his drawings, "My vagina." At this Grissom looked up, "You don't recognize her!?" Catherine began to laugh at his scrunched expression, "Griss, that's Lindsey. That's my daughter." She laughed even more at the now bewildered look in his eye.
"That's Lindsey!?"
She laughed again, "Yeah."
"What the hell happened?"
"She grew up." Catherine shrugged like a proud mom. "So? What do you say?"
"Yeah. Of course." Grissom shook his head still trying to wrap his mind around it. "Wow."
"I know." She watched as Grissom looked into the distance, his face softening a moment as he thought. "You ever think of having kids, Gil?"
He looked back at her now, she could see the sadness in his eyes, "There was a time."
"With Sara?"
His head dropped, staring at the now closed notebook in his hands, shoulders slumped. He felt her reach over and place a soft, gentle hand on his shoulder.
"You should talk to her."
"I wouldn't know what to say."
"Tell her the truth."
Grissom exhaled, "I think that would be a little selfish."
"It's okay to be selfish sometimes, Gil."
He shook his head, "No, I've put her through enough."
She smiled sadly at him, his head still hung.
Sara sat in the interrogation room with Heather across from her now, alone. She was swallowing her pride and coming to Heather for help.
"But you're not here alone without Grissom to show me a distorted face and shoddy audio. You're here for another reason. Aren't you?"
"I'm here, based on what I've shown you, to ask if you have any idea who's behind this." Her words were pleading, a fact not lost on Heather.
"I've had thousands of clients come through my domain over the years. Any one of them could be after me for a number of unforeseeable reasons."
"I'm not talking about you, Heather. This is about Grissom." She became more stern as she spoke on. "Why would one of your clients or patients be after him? If you're not behind this then help me help him."
Heather searched her eyes, "You're scared for him, aren't you?"
"I am." Sara spoke without blinking.
"Do you love him?" Heathers voice was softer now, nicer.
Sara stared back at this woman with whom she felt so hostile toward. This woman, who somehow had a hold over Grissom continued to undermine her relationship with him at every turn, "I do." She finally spoke.
"I believe you."
"You should." She let a long moment pass before asking her back, "Do you?"
"Do I what?"
"Love him?"
Heather could see right through Sara and her transparent insecurities. "No." She paused, letting Sara think for a quick moment that she didn't love Grissom, "I'm afraid I can't help you." She pushed the papers back across the table to Sara.
Sara felt her heart constrict. She felt vulnerable and exposed now that she'd admitted for the first time to herself and out loud that she still loved Grissom. She loved him with every beat of her heart. Her cold, indifferent exterior, the walls she'd built up to protect herself were now crumbling down. She could barely breathe. A crushing pain pressing against her heart—the one that was there when they'd first ended their marriage, the one she'd thought would never go away. Now she realized it never did go away, she'd just become good at ignoring it.
She approached a layout room to see Grissom hunched over the table, talking to a jar full of bees. The sight of which made her heart melt. She couldn't remember how she could be so angry at him as he stood there, with almost child-like amusement. She decided to enter. He quickly stopped what he was doing and straightened himself out at the sound of her footsteps approaching.
"Hi." He smiled, she could see his body tensing slightly. "I was talking to the bees."
"Shocker." She looked up at him and smiled, causing his body to relax. He returned her statement with a boyish grin. The one that always made her a little weak.
"I heard you were in here, thought maybe you could use some help."
He looked up at her now with wide eyes, "I'd love some. I miss working side by side with you." Maybe he shouldn't have said that. He quickly thought, remembering the reaction she'd had early when he told her that she left him speechless and that she was beautiful. But she returned his statement with a relaxed smile. He was in the clear. "You and the bees." He said boyishly, nodding his head toward the insects in the jar.
There was a moment there now, where they shared a memory together without speaking it aloud. A memory of the two of them in beekeeper outfits, when he'd asked her to marry him. The memory of which swelled both their hearts with joy, even now replaying it in their minds alone.
"Question is, how did the bee get in the cadaver?" She leaned in a bit closer to him as she spoke, the two staring at the bees on the table. So close now that he could smell her signature lavender scent. He closed his eyes briefly, allowing it to assault his senses. How he'd missed that scent, dreamed of it.
"I believe—" The sounds of Hodges' voice caused the two to move away from each other instinctively. Hodges. Grissom cursed the name in his head. Feeling regret for not having been able to hand onto that moment with Sara just a little longer.
Sara and Grissom found themselves in bee-keeper outfits once again. A little less bulky this time though. They stood in the tented area they'd set up with the color coded bee experiment. She painted the bee at his command, holding it gently between tweezers, the blue paint easily attaching to the bee's hairs.
She could feel him look on over her shoulder, his body slightly touching her back. "First time for everything." She spoke a bit mindlessly as she painted the bee.
"Excellent. Well done." He smiled causing her to do the same. She shook her head internally—After all this time, after everything they'd been through, it still felt unbelievably good to be his star pupil, for him to be proud of her.
Once the bee's were released to the forest, Grissom and Sara took a seat on folded chairs. She breathed in deeply, taking in the fresh air of this beautiful day. It felt good to get outside for a change. She rolled up the netting of her helmet, letting the light breeze kiss her face as she sipped at a thermos of tea.
Grissom sat beside her in his own folding chair and watched her movements. He mimicked her, rolling up his own netting. God she's beautiful, he thought to himself as he watched her. Her body language relaxed, face stoic as she gazed out into the distance. He wondered what she was thinking of in that moment. He couldn't help but to think back to Costa Rico, when they'd spent the day just like this watching the wildlife around them. Peaceful and quiet.
He opened his mouth to speak but nothing would come out. He'd thought about his conversation with Catherine earlier. Thought about telling Sara the truth, about apologizing maybe. But his voice wouldn't oblige. He couldn't speak. So he just sat there and watched her. Finally having a prolonged moment to recommit her scent to his memory.
Later that night Sara and Grissom rode to the suspect's home with two marked cop cars and a SWAT team. The slowly made their way out of the car and approached the house, letting SWAT and the uniforms lead the way.
Then the suspect emerged, "Dolton Benton? How is that possible? His DNA wasn't a match."
Grissom and Sara slowly approached Mr. Benton. Mr. Benton spoke on, explaining why he did what he did.
"What do you want."
"His life." Benton answered Sara.
"You came along and you turned her heart. She quit roll playing because of you. She quit her practice because of you. She quick ME because of you." Benton wagged his figging accusingly so toward Grissom. "And now—Everything Heather and I once had, is gone."
"You can't loose something you never had, Mr. Benton. Lady Heather never slept with you. She never slept with any of her clients or her patients." Sara sideways glanced at Grissom upon hearing this, something she'd never known before. "But you've been emotionally attached to her. Haven't you? Question now is, how attached are you to that bomb?" While talking, Grissom was able to get a close enough look at the bomb. He's already surmised that the trigger pull wasn't connected.
"You see, I know about bombs." Grissom continued, "I know about oceans too. There's a great mamal in the ocean known as the 52hz whale. All year he practices his love song for the female. Travels thousands of miles to find her, but when he finally gets the chance to serenade her, she doesn't give him a call back."
Sara's ears perked up at this, Was he really trying to tell her something through a metaphor while talking down a bomber? It was such an incredibly "Grissom" thing to do that she almost couldn't believe it. She listened more intently now, trying to decipher his cryptic words.
"Why? His love ballet is sung at 52hz. A sonic signature one note higher than the lowest sound of a tuba. The average female hears at 10 to 15hz. So she never hears his song. They call him the lonely whale. And year after year, for a hundred years he works on a new love song. And never, ever, gets a call back. Eventually he dies off. Forever alone. Heartbreaking."
Sara winced at this, trying to understand where his head was at.
"But you've been calling out too. You've been calling out for Lady Heather's love. But she's not calling back, is she? And the frightening part for you is, she never will."