A/N: All is not lost! Jellybean managed to get some rare free time, and wrote a new chapter. We both apologize for the extremely long delay between chapters. Free time for Jellybean is a rare commodity these days, so a new chapter, is definitely a treat in deed. We are slowly coming to the end of this journey - there are possibly 5 chapters left, (or 4 if you don't count this one. ) However, we can't say when a chapter will be ready. We thank you for your continued patience, and hope that you stay with us until the end - whenever that might be. Many thanks as always, to co-author, Jellybean for another fantastic chapter.

CHAPTER 64

"Hey."

He could feel someone rousing him but still fought the urge to open his eyes. Maybe he was just experiencing another dream.

"Hello? I'm not going to go anywhere."

A dream. A very insistent dream.

"GIL!"

His eyes popped open. "What? OK. I'm awake."

"Jeez, sleepyhead," Sara said as she sat on his side of the bed with her hand stroking his bed-head curls. "What? You think you gonna sleep all morning?"

Adjusting his eyes to the light, Grissom sat up in bed and quickly wiped the sleep from his eyes. "You know, just a week ago you were bothering me about not getting any sleep and now I am harassed for sleeping."

Sara chuckled. It was true that after attending a group session for PTSD, Sara noticed Grissom had slept better. She could still recognize his mind was not completely free of anxiety, but he was definitely moving forward in the right direction. His nightmares were subsiding, and he was beginning to find solace in sleep.

But that doesn't mean he shouldn't wake up in time so Sara could get to the hairdresser.

"You promised me you would watch Danny…"

Smiling, he gingerly stretched in the bed. He blinked his eyes to focus on the digital clock on his bedside and was surprised to see it was just past 7 in the morning.

"Sara, isn't your appointment at 10:30?"

"Yes, but I want to run a couple of errands on that side of town beforehand…"

"You shouldn't go to the farmer's market before the salon. The food might spoil in the heat of the car."

"That's why I'm going after my appointment. These are other errands. Gil, you promised me the entire morning…"

"Yes, I did," Grissom said with a nod. "There is no denying you are clearly excited about your day."

"I am," Sara said with a smile. "Did you sleep OK?"

Grissom's smile matched hers. "Yes. Thank you."

"Good," Sara said as she bounced up. "Now, get up and get dressed."

He turned and shuffled his legs from atop the bed. "OK. I'm moving."

"Let's go," Sara said, a clap of her hands. "Get the lead out."

"Is Daniel even up yet?"

"If you get up, you'll answer your own question," Sara said as she passed her husband his cane. "Time's ticking away, Gilbert."

In a little less than 25 minutes, Sara felt everything was set for her departure. Her husband had already showered and was sitting downstairs at the breakfast table with their son. The two of them were locked in the very impressive conversation involving peaches, oatmeal and the growth rate of worms in compost.

"Alright, I'll text you when I'm out of the hairdresser and on the way to the farmer's market."

"OK," Grissom answered, although his attention was on his son as he attempted a spoonful of fruit in the boy's mouth.

"Then I'll text you when I'm leaving the market."

"OK."

"Don't let him fool you about his napping regimen," Sara said. "He's a whiny bear without a lot of sleep."

"Yes, I know," Grissom said pushing another spoonful. "And it reminds me of someone else in this household."

"There's plenty of diapers upstairs, and don't be …"

"Stingy with the diaper rash ointment because he might overdo it on the fruit," Grissom said, finishing her statement. "Sara, go. We'll be fine."

"You think you'll just be around the house, or maybe going out?" Sara broached the subject carefully with Grissom. She knew he still struggled around crowds and leaving the house. "It's fine if you stay here, but I thought about that dog park. It's not a far walk and I think people still don't know it's there. Not a lot of people get out there."

"Yeah," Grissom said, his voice as distant as she expected. "We'll see. I wasn't planning on going out."

"OK, but if you do, will you let me know?"

"I will text you and leave you a note here," Grissom said. "I don't want to worry you."

"And no…"

"Driving," Grissom finished yet again. "I know the drill, sergeant."

"Just making sure," Sara said, bending down to kiss the top of Daniel's head. "I'll see you later, squirt. Don't be too rough on Daddy today."

She then went to Grissom's side and went to kiss him on the lips, but stopped short. "One more thing."

"Sara, come on…"

"I know you're fine, I just wanted to remind you about the message Dana Osorio left yesterday. You should call her back."

"Oh, yeah, thank you for reminding me," Grissom said genuinely, his reaction earning him that kiss on the lips. "I'll probably call her when their office opens. Since it's the crack of dawn right now."

"Come on," Sara said as she gathered her purse. "It's a little bit before 8."

"It's 7:28."

"See you later, Daddy," Sara said, bending down to kiss Grissom's head. "You be a good boy, too. Don't overextend yourself."

"I won't. Don't worry about us. Enjoy your day."

And with that promise, Sara was out the door, with both Grissom boys silently following her exit. The starting of the car and closing of the garage door brought their attentions back to one another and the task at hand — breakfast.

Grissom picked up a spoonful of oatmeal mixed with fruit for Daniel. "When did she start calling you squirt?"

As rhetorical a question as it was, considering it was spoken to someone yet to blow out a single candle on a birthday cake, Daniel still offered a reply: "Bing."

Grissom nodded in total understanding. "I'm guessing you don't approve of said nickname?"

"Bing! Biiiiinnnnggg bing."

"I don't blame you," Grissom said as he shoveled another spoonful. "I feel the same way when she calls me Gilbert."

After the morning routines were complete and it was time for PBS to the Kipper the Dog cartoon, Grissom sat down on the couch and made a phone call to his labor attorney, Dana Osorio. She left a message hoping to give an update on Grissom's case.

"Yes, hello," Grissom said as the office receptionist answered the call, "This is Gil Grissom. I'm returning Dana Osorio's call. … Thank you."

As ubiquitous hold music played on the call, Grissom spied a glance to Daniel who seemed riveted by the antics of Kipper and Tiger. He smiled as his son sat on the floor with his blanket and stuffed ant without a care.

"Hello Dr. Grissom," he heard, abruptly bringing his attention back to the phone call. "This is Jamal, Ms. Osorio's assistant."

"Yes, Jamal. How are you?"

"I'm well, sir. Thank you for asking," the young man said. "I know you called for Ms. Osorio, but she was called away for the day. But she did want to meet you."

"OK, that's fine," Grissom said, grabbing a pad of paper from an end table. "Do you have a schedule for when I should come to the office?"

"Actually she wanted to ask if she could meet you at your residence, if you were open to that," Jamal said. "She realizes this is a bit of a last minute request, but she was hoping you might have some time tomorrow."

"Oh," Grissom said, his mind immediately cataloging different reasons for such an immediate request. Was it a positive thing or a negative one? Does this mean he might see his pension? What if it means he never will? Or he might after an even more arduous fight.

"Mr. Grissom? Are you OK."

"I'm sorry," Grissom said. "Just… um… of course Dana can come by the house… at her convenience."

"Does 1 p.m, sound good?"

Just then Grissom heard a beep indicating an incoming call. "Yes." The beep sounded again. It's probably Sara, he thought. If I don't get it, she'll worry. "Yes, that's fine Jamal. Thank you."

"Thank you, sir. She's now scheduled for 1 p.m. at your residence. Have a good day."

"You too, Jamal." With that, Grissom quickly changed calls, hoping he didn't miss it. "Hello?"

"Hello, Gil. It's Philip Gerard."

Stunned silence. That was the only way to equate Grissom's reaction. It certainly wasn't Sara on the other line.

"Gil? You there?"

"Yes, sorry, Philip."

"I suppose this is a surprise phone call out of the blue."

"Yes, I would agree with that," Grissom said, as he weaved his hand through his hair. "It's been a long time."

"It has."

"How … how are you?"

"I'm well, thank you," Gerard said, speaking in his usual demeanor of calm arrogance. "Things for me have been going quite well, but I'm guessing you've been through what I can only imagine being tremendous trials."

"I don't mean to be rude, Philip, but I don't understand how you might know…"

"I received a call from LVPD asking about you and your relationship with Officer Darrow all those years ago."

"Of course," Grissom said softly. It was bad enough members of his team had first-hand knowledge about the crime pinned on Grissom. Knowing people of his past were also questioned was a dull pain he felt in the pit of his stomach.

"To say I was surprised about the charges against you was an understatement to say the least." Gerard couldn't see the slow, nod Grissom made in reply, but the older man understood what Grissom's silence meant. "Despite thinking about you in jail, I was relieved to hear you were released."

"It is a relief."

"I'm sure being with your family is important," Gerard said, adding a chuckle at the end. "And I hear you are with that CSI. The one who was dating that EMT the last time we met."

Recalling the last time Grissom saw his mentor in a position opposing his own was bad enough for Grissom. But bringing back the memory of Sara in that context seemed petty and somewhat sleazy. "I'm with my beloved Sara, my son and my mother. There is nothing more sacrosanct in my life than my family." Grissom hoped his voice reflected the punch in the gut he wished he could give Gerard face-to-face.

"Of course, Gil. I meant no disrespect. I stepped over the line and I apologize."

Grissom shut his eyes. "Exactly why have you called, Philip?"

Gerard chuckled again. "It seems you and I have gotten off the wrong foot again." In the background, Grissom could hear the creak of Gerard's chair. He could envision the man leaning back in his favorite office chair. "I was calling to check on you. Physically doing well?"

"Yes."

"How about financially? I'm guessing it might be difficult to find work with law enforcement at present. They … they really did a number on your reputation, Gil. And the way they hounded you… it must have been completely demoralizing."

Grissom bit his lip. He felt his anxiety rise. "Returning to law enforcement wouldn't be in my plans, regardless. I retired before all this happened."

"That's right," Gerard said. "I had heard you were teaching. And how is that? I hope all those lines of opportunity haven't completely closed, although I could see how your experiences in prison might completely eviscerate avenues of advancement."

Grissom knew Gerard knew the answer to that question and he was obviously fishing. "Philip, please cut to the chase. Both of us are too old to be playing this type of game."

"OK. OK. I acquiesce," Gerard said. "But honestly I did call to find out if you were well."

"I appreciate that."

"And…" Gerard quickly said, knowing his protege would have immediately taken that cue to hang up, "I also called to offer some … vocational advice. An opportunity, really."

The pit in Grissom's stomach seemed to grow, piercing behind his eyeballs.

"Before you have a chance to say, 'No," just hear me out, Gil. Don't be the stubborn man I know you can be. Give me two minutes of your time to offer an opportunity that could help you, not hurt you."

He couldn't diminish the sigh that escaped him. "Does this have anything to do with working with you in consultation?"

"It could. Yes," Gerard said slowly. "And I don't think it's a stretch of the imagination that I would think of you in this moment of time. Gil, take a look at what happened to you in the last few months. You, of all people, know first-hand how mistakes at the hands of CSIs and law enforcement, and the mishandling and arrogance of prosecutorial teams can bury a person. You of all people should know the prosecutor's take on a situation can not be dogma. There is another side to the story, and that side deserves to be examined by highly trained, objective individuals, such as yourself."

On the outside, that statement couldn't make more sense. Grissom should have been sold on it. But just as Gerard said how Grissom had experience with the sour side of law enforcement, Grissom had also been on the sour side of Philip Gerard, who always seemed to have a personal stake and claim. "And I am guessing those parties questioning prosecutorial dogma have big purse strings."

The chuckle arrived again. "Expertise deserves to be paid. It's true, I don't run a charitable organization, but that doesn't mean prosecutorial misconduct or law enforcement impropriety should be overlooked. Again…"

"Yes, yes. I should know that. I get that logic, Philip. But why all the sudden are you calling? Are you working on a particular case that would involve me?" Grissom hoped it would be bugs. He hoped it wouldn't be something else in particular.

"It's funny you ask," Gerard said. "Actually there is a case from your area I was hoping to bend your ear…"

Grissom let out a deep breath. He'd give his mentor one more shot for redemption. "Does it have something that needs my expertise in entomology?"

"Well, no. When I said your area, I mean a case from Vegas."

And there it was — the ulterior motive. Gerard didn't offer the opportunity altruistically or even as an olive branch. He wanted to play off Grissom's mal feelings against the LVPD and, possibly, his own crime lab. Gerard would have to know Grissom … Grissom the scientist… Grissom the investigator… Grissom the man… could not in good faith consult against a case that might have passed his desk.

But he didn't have to explain anything to anyone. The only thing he wanted to do right here, right now, was move forward. "Thank you for calling. I appreciate your concern. And I appreciate you offering me a financial opportunity. But I am not in the state of mind to work in the field of consultation."

"Gil, I understand you might have reservations, considering the case stems from a place you worked, but it is also a place that wronged you…"

"Philip. Please. Respect what I am saying."

Silence stayed true for a good 30 seconds. These were two men who played mental chess with one another and others. The game could get intense, but could come to an endgame. But in this instance, an endgame would not be met to either's satisfaction.

"OK, Gil. I respect what you are saying. I wish you would take time to think about it, because I know this could help you financially." Without saying the words, the mentor was telling the protege he asked around and did research. "This might seem hollow to you, Gil, but, honestly son… I don't like to see you lose."

Although Grissom heard every word Gerard said, his gaze strayed back to his son, still riveted by the cartoon on the television screen. Daniel didn't watch much television, but his parents didn't mind the Kipper cartoon, with its soothing voices and serene backgrounds devoid of flashiness. The combination of cartoon and the soft smile on a toddler's face could even soothe an adult mind.

"Losses come and go," Grissom replied. "I just want to treasure those things I've won."

This time it was Gerard who let out a sigh. "I understand. I'm glad you're doing well, Gil. Keep improving."

"Thank you, Philip. It was good talking to you."

They said their goodbyes and Grissom hung up the phone. He leaned back against the couch and stared at the ceiling. He didn't even notice when the cartoon ended until he felt a small hand pound on his knee, and a bit of slobber on his foot. He looked down to see both Hank and Daniel looking up at him, as if they were both saying, "OK. Now what?"

"Who wants to take a walk to the park?"