A/N:

I hope you enjoy the chapter! 💛

Summary: The day before the wedding. 💕 Grissom just wants his bride to be happy. 💕 Sara just wants her groom to relax. 💕 (Hank just wants his beauty sleep. đŸ’›đŸ¶đŸ’€)

Fall 2015. Las Vegas, Nevada.

Put a candle in the window
'Cause I feel I've got to move
Though I'm going, going
I'll be coming home soon
Long as I can see the light

– John Cameron Fogerty [for Creedence Clearwater Revival,
"Long As I Can See the Light."

Woah, my love, my darling
I've hungered for your touch
A long, lonely time
And time goes by so slowly
And time can do so much
Are you still mine?
I need your love
I need your love
God speed your love to me

Lonely rivers flow
To the sea, to the sea
To the open arms of the sea, yeah
Lonely rivers sigh
"Wait for me, wait for me"
I'll be coming home, wait for me

– Hy Zaret, "Unchained Melody."

Not Every Wedding Needs a Rehearsal Dinner, But This One Does

The day before the wedding, Grissom arose early. He was fretting. He wanted everything to go well—but, no, not just well. He wanted everything to be perfect. He wanted it to be perfect for Sara.

Grissom was trying to remember whether there was anything he had forgotten, anything he had overlooked. Best black suit and crisp white shirt freshly dry-cleaned and hanging in the closet? Check. Vegetation? Check. Completely vegetarian food options—including vegetarian pigs-in-a-blanket (at Sara's insistence, though he'd initially assumed her to be kidding)? Check. Picking his mother up from the airport later that morning? Check (or soon-to-be check). Grissom felt sure something must be missing, though nothing was.

As long as he had Sara, Grissom wouldn't be missing anything for himself, but he wanted the event to be special for her, not just some tradition without reason. So he was fretting—fretting and pacing. Eventually, his early morning pacing did not go unnoticed.

"Gil, what's wrong?" came a half-awake voice from the bed. Sara looked at the clock. "It's still early. Come back to bed."

Grissom had been pacing near the foot of the bed. He should have left the room. "Oh, uh, nothing, sweetheart. Don't worry. It's fine."

"Clearly." Sara understood acutely what fine meant.

"I'm just trying to make sure we haven't forgotten anything for tomorrow." He wanted to go back to pacing, but she was still watching him, and he didn't want to worry her.

"And the pacing's helping with that, is it?"

"I just want everything to be perfect, Sara."

"It's really not that big a deal. Everything's going to work out. Catherine's in charge. Nothing would dare go wrong." Sara hadn't realized she had such a fussy groom.

Grissom had realized he had such an unfussy bride, but it didn't matter. He still wanted everything perfect for her. He owed her that much. He bit his lip and tried to resist pacing.

"Why are you so worried?" She could see he was anxious.

His inclination toward speechlessness failed him during this early morning chat. "I put you off for years; I waited years too long to date you. I waited too long to propose. I waited too long to go after you when you left Vegas. I stayed away too long. I divorced you. I went back to the boat; I didn't know what to say to you. I just . . . I made so many mistakes. I don't want to make any more mistakes. I want this to be perfect for you, Sara."

"Gil, breathe." Okay, he was really anxious.

He sighed and shook his head, frustrated with his own perceived failings.

"Come here." She beckoned him over to her side of the bed.

He walked over and sat on the edge of the bed beside her.

She sat up halfway, put her right hand on the left side of his face, and stroked his cheek. "What's your pulse now?"

"Touché. Really, I'm fine, though."

"You want to take a walk around the block? Get some air? It might clear your head, settle your nerves a little."

"Are you offering?"

"No, I'm getting married tomorrow, so I need my beauty sleep." She smirked at him. Sara had never exactly been one for beauty sleep, or any sleep at all.

"Fair enough, my Aurora."

"But I'm sure you could persuade H to go with you."

She was still stroking his cheek, and he put his hand on hers. "Chalk?" Thanks to a rather underhanded defence attorney, that small section of their roller coaster ride had been entered into the court records.

"Something like that." She smiled at him, then she took a deep breath. You can do this, Sidle.

After exhaling, Sara continued, "Gil, honestly, the end of our marriage was the worst event—the worst part—of my adult life. Afterward, when I was alone, it was like . . . it was like sometimes I'd forget to breathe; it was like I'd forgotten how to breathe."

She'd seen the color start to drain from his face as soon as she'd uttered her first vexing words. She'd known she'd be making things worse before she made them better. She hadn't put it quite so bluntly before, but she'd decided it finally needed to be said—and said before the start of their second marriage.

"I, uh . . ." Oh, god, she'd been through so much, and somehow he was the worst of it.

She could see from his expression that he was now running through a mental catalogue of all her adult traumas.

"Even . . ." His mind had finally settled on her long night in the desert—the most terrifying night of his life.

She understood immediately where his mind had settled; the pain in his eyes told her the terror he was reliving. "Even out in the desert that night, with all my ghosts, I knew you were looking for me; I still had hope."

"Oh, Sara. . . ." He was sure he'd happily conjure Mephistopheles before the day was done, if only he could go back and take that pain away from her.

"But that day you called me—I puked, you know, after we stopped talking. I knew what you were going to say before I even answered the call, but I puked after. I think the last time I'd puked before that, aside from actually being sick, was my first autopsy. I guess my problem areas are saliva and divorce." She tried to laugh, but the sound was strangled before it could emerge from her throat.

"I mean, that day, though . . ." she continued, "the day you called me . . ." Where was she still going with this? She wasn't really sure.

"The day you called and told me you thought we should get a divorce, did you mean that? I mean, did you really want that? Did you expect me to fight you on it, or did you expect me just to say okay and have a nice fucking day and be on my way?"

FUCK. What the actual fuck, Sara. Fuck, fuck, FUCK. This wasn't where she'd planned to take the conversation, but the words had somehow tumbled unceremoniously out of her mouth without her permission. Here she was, thinking she was so cool about everything, thinking she was so collected, thinking she could calmly cool him down, and—

"FUCK." FUCK. She hadn't meant to say that either. But somehow she'd started thinking about the pain and then—

"FUCK." FUCK. She hadn't meant to say that either. Suddenly she was feeling a bit frantic. Wait, if she was frantic, then what was—

"FUCK." FUCK. She finally brought her focus back to Grissom. He was now looking more concerned about her current state of mind than anything else, so that at least had to be one upside of her propensity for anxious volubility around the man.

"Sara?" he asked, softly, tentatively, as if she were a porcelain doll—a little bisque doll, perhaps—who might fracture from the sound waves alone if he spoke even a fraction too forcefully.

The emotion in his voice—the emotion he managed in that single statement—nay, question—of her name—almost made her weep. She had always had feelings about the way the man said her name.

She held her palm up toward him, fingers spread wide; she needed a moment. She flashed back to the breathing technique her PEAP counsellor had taught her all those years ago—combat breathing, they called it, of all things: breathe in through the nose for four counts, hold for four counts, breathe out through the mouth for four counts, hold for four counts, repeat as needed. She went through a few repetitions before returning her focus to their conversation.

"I'm sorry. That's—oh, that's really not where I was planning on taking this conversation. You'd think after all this time I'd be done overtalking around you, wouldn't you?" She gave him a rueful smile.

"Well, I seem to recall your overtalking was what got us into this whole relationship in the first place."

"Which time?"

"Exactly."

This time, Sara laughed despite herself. "Really, though, I don't know why I said that—I know you didn't want it for yourself—I mean, just aside from"—she gestured around them, in reference to their many conversations, their plans for a life together, their very imminently impending second wedding—"aside from, you know, everything . . . you told me that those first days on the Ishmael."

"Actually, I think you may have told yourself for me."

"Right. . . . I guess that's another reason I need to stop rescuing you from yourself."

Grissom nodded in agreement. "But, if you want to hear it from the horse's mouth, so to speak—"

Sara herself then nodded in response, quite vigorously. "Yes, please," she added quickly. She couldn't help herself. She didn't exactly know how she'd found herself there, but suddenly she quite desperately needed to hear it.

"Let me finish before you . . ." He shook his head. "I don't know. . . . Just let me finish first, okay?"

"Okay."

"It was like—it was like ripping out my own heart, Sara. But I thought I was making you unhappy—and I felt so . . ." Grissom stopped and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. "I felt so unbelievably guilty for hanging on for so long—for letting you be so unhappy just because I couldn't bear to admit to myself that I needed to let you go. . . . I knew you were too good to admit it. But I'd convinced myself the only chance for you to be happy again was to let you go."

Sara realized she was digging the fingers of her left hand deep into the skin of her upper thigh and tried to unclench them. She could hardly blame him for having gotten so lost when she'd been so equally lost herself, and somehow hearing it from his very mouth (not hers, she reminded herself) made her feel less alone: even when they got lost, they somehow each got lost in the same way.

"So in that sense . . . that day I called you, I did mean it, and I did want it, and I didn't want you to fight me on it . . . but never in a million years would it have been what I wanted for myself, sweetheart. It was like ripping out my own heart. You are my heart."

"Always and forever?"

"Always and forever, Sara Sidle—always and forever, you are my heart."

She inhaled deeply—held the breath for a count of four—then released it. Under 36 hours now remained until she was again going to be married to this man. Above all else, she wanted to be married to this man—this ridiculous man who would do such ridiculous things as earnestly explaining how he'd divorced her because he loved her so much (in one breath) and calling her his heart (in the next).

"Okay." Sara smiled. "I seem to recall I was supposed to be reassuring you?"

"Hmmm," Grissom acknowledged.

Her own feelings once again almost as calm and collected as they'd been when she'd awoken, Sara shifted the discussion back to her originally planned course. "The end of our marriage—it was the worst part of my adult life. But, Gil . . . we let that happen—we let our marriage break down—together. And that's not where we are now." She'd said what she needed to say—she'd said much more than she'd thought she needed to say, in fact—but now she had to get them back to the present; the present was pretty perfect. "The fact that we're even having all these conversations tells us that much, right?"

Grissom again nodded.

"So, look, we both know we could have done a lot of things differently, but I just try to remember what Catherine says."

"Never doubt and never look back?"

"Exactly. We've wasted enough time. I don't want to waste any more time looking back. I'd rather think about what's next. I'd rather think about the adventure. And mostly I'd rather just enjoy what we have now. So can we try that instead?"

Grissom nodded—once more.

"As for the wedding, I know I said I wanted it, but all I wanted was for everyone to know this is a serious commitment, to know you're my one and only—and, more importantly, that I'm yours."

With that, she got him to laugh a little.

"Otherwise, I really don't care what happens," she continued. "All I need is you. Are you going to be there?"

"Of course." She'd moved her hand to his neck, and he now reached up to cover it once more with one of his own.

"Then, as far as I'm concerned, it's already perfect."

He took a deep breath.

"Pulse?"

"It's improving."

"So come back to bed now, my love." She puckered her lips at him.

He was still hesitant.

"Look, do you remember what you said to me that night at Brass's?"

"That night at—oh—uh, remind me?"

"You said I was the best wife—"

"That's true."

"Well, thank you again." Sara laughed. "But when I pointed out we weren't actually married, you said, 'Only legally.'"

"Oh."

"I want to be married to you more than anything else. Truly. I really do. If the wedding weren't in under 36 hours anyway, I'd take you down to Elvis's Hunka Hunka Hall o' Burning Love and marry you right now."

Grissom laughed despite himself.

"But, honestly, you were right. We're already there. This wedding . . . This is for our friends, and for your mom." Sara looked to the foot of the bed. "And for Hank, of course." She laughed, but the pooch himself only looked slightly put out at the continued disturbance to his beauty sleep. "But you and I? We've belonged to each other for over seventeen years. And I think it's pretty clear at this point that no piece of paper is ever going to change that one bit."

"Right . . ." Grissom looked pensive. "Have you always been this much smarter than I am?"

"Yes."

"Just checking."

"It's going to be okay, Gil," she said, and she meant it.

He could tell she meant it, so he believed her. He could feel his pulse continuing its descent back to normal. She could leave him speechless, and she could certainly get his blood pumping, but she could also soothe him like nothing and no one else could. Even when they were apart, just knowing Sara existed in the world had soothed him.

"Come on, Gilbert. I'm getting very lonely in here all by myself." She flashed him not the megawatt smile, but instead a coy one. She took her hand off his neck and tugged on his hand. "Come back to bed."

Finally Grissom relented and climbed back into bed with his beloved bride.

After he had shuffled over to his side of the bed, Sara scooted over on top of him and looked down into his bright blue eyes, the worry almost—but not quite fully—faded from them. Oh, my love. "I love you, Gil Grissom." She kissed him on the forehead. My love. "I love you, Gil Grissom." She kissed him above his left eye. My love. "I love you, Gil Grissom." She kissed him above his right eye. My love. "I love you, Gil Grissom." She worked her way around his face—my love—in no particular order—my love—his jawline, his ears, his cheeks, the corners of his mouth. My love. With each kiss—my love—she repeated her sentiment: "I love you, Gil Grissom."

Sara then lowered herself and put her left arm around him. Oh, my love, how could you ever have believed you belonged anywhere but with me? She kissed him over his heart and told him, once more, "I love you—always, always, always—always and forever—Gil Grissom."

She too felt confident his pulse was returning to normal. She rested her chin on his chest and looked up at him, brushing the hair at the top of his forehead with her right hand, tugging gently at some of the small pieces that never quite seemed to want to stay in the right place. My love.

Grissom looked more relaxed now. My love. "You know all I ever need is you," she assured him. As she prepared to go back to sleep, she laid the side of her head down on his chest. My love. "We can still elope if you want. San Francisco's not far." She laughed into his chest. "Elvis's is even closer."

He was running his fingers through her hair. Although she didn't exactly weight a lot, the weight of her half lying on him helped calm him further. "And let down all of our eight wedding guests?" He continued stroking her hair as he drifted back to sleep. Oh, my darling. "I wouldn't dream of it, dearest."

Aside from Jim Brass, who had been asked to perform the ceremony; Betty Grissom; and Lindsey Willows, the wedding guests did not know they were to be wedding guests. But they had been invited to a rehearsal dinner, which they also did not know was a rehearsal dinner, at Catherine's house the night before the wedding.

Sara and Grissom didn't exactly require a lot of rehearsing for this small wedding of theirs, but, having dragged the director of the San Diego crime lab back to Las Vegas, they—and Catherine—wanted to make the most of the reunion.

Brass was very smug about his advance knowledge, and Lindsey stayed discrete. Greg Sanders, Nick Stokes, Al Robbins, and David Phillips were a little puzzled as to why Catherine had gathered them all together—although Greg at least likely had his suspicions. There were a few members of their old crew obviously missing, after all.

Catherine had pulled out her collection of old vinyl for the occasion, and CCR's "Long As I Can See the Light" had just come on as the two lovely science nerds entered the room where their wedding guests-to-be were gathered. As once before, Sara and Grissom (with Betty) were last to arrive, and, when the pair walked in hand in hand, those already assembled first went quiet, then very, very loud.

Once the noise had died down, all present agreed the soon-to-be newlyweds had almost never looked better; all agreed the soon-to-be newlyweds had certainly never looked happier. Though dressed in a shirt and blazer, Grissom otherwise looked just as scruffy as when he'd shown up at the lab in September, because Sara liked him that way; though wearing a knee-length cocktail dress and purposefully styled curls, Sara looked much more relaxed than she had in years.

All in attendance were overjoyed that a longstanding wrong was about to be righted, and Nick and Greg were greatly relieved to be able to return their old boss and mentor fully to their good graces. Grissom himself was in such good humor that he accepted Nick's big bear hug with all the tolerance he could muster, and, despite Sara's warning all those years ago, he didn't even bat an eyelash when Nick mustered up the courage to call him Gil (for only the second time in their acquaintance).

As the evening progressed and the old friends once again felt comfortable mingling amongst each other, Greg managed to get Sara alone as she refilled her drink.

"Hey."

"Hey." She gave him a hug.

"So . . . you two have been together this whole time?"

"Yes."

"And you didn't want to tell me about it."

"I just . . . I just needed to live it for a while and not try to explain it."

"And now . . . you're back in Vegas?"

Sara took a deep breath then released it. "Until we've got the house packed up."

"Ah." Greg tried not to show his disappointment. "Then what?"

"We're going to be on the boat. But we're still working out the details."

"And this is what you want?"

Sara smiled as she glanced over at Grissom, who was at that moment being regaled with updates on Doc Robbins's family; he winked at her when she caught his eye. Then she returned her gaze to Greg.

"Yes," she said, with absolute conviction.

"More than being lab director, I guess?"

"I never really wanted to be lab director. You know how much I hate administration and office politics—"

"True."

"—And, you know, dealing with people . . ."

Greg raised an eyebrow.

"I mean managing people—not actual people."

"Right." He laughed.

Sara again took a deep breath. "I just didn't know what else to do with myself. This was always the plan, though. We wanted an adventure. We just got a little delayed. . . ."

Greg nodded.

"And a little . . . a little divorced." She tried not to laugh at the ridiculousness of the whole situation.

"But you want to be married again?"

"Yes." Of that too Sara was certain.

"And you're happy."

"Very."

"Okay. You look happy." He gave her another hug. "I'm glad."

"Me, too, Greg. Me, too."

"Yeah, Sar." A Texas drawl joined the conversation.

Sara was soon enveloped by another hug. She assumed Nick had heard most of her conversation with Greg.

"If you're happy, we're happy," Nick continued.

"Thanks, Nicky," Sara tried to respond, though she was somewhat muffled by his tight embrace.

"I know we'll probably never all be in one spot again for more than a day or two, but it kind of feels like the family's a little more together like this," Nick said after releasing her from the hug.

"Definitely," Greg agreed.

"And if y'all are on the coast, you can stop in and see me in San Diego."

"Of course," Sara confirmed.

Nick nodded in the direction of Grissom. "Just try not to let him get arrested, you hear? I can probably help you out with that once or twice, but after that . . ."

Sara made a face at him.

"Aw, c'mere, you two." Nick wrapped them both up in a big bear hug again.

"Nick!"

Catherine had decided Sara and Grissom were by no means spending the night before the wedding together. Sara and Grissom had thought this a rather silly tradition—and a bit ridiculous considering this was after all their second wedding. Catherine had pointed out that, given that this was after all their second wedding, they might not want to jinx things.

So they obliged. After enjoying the company of their team members past, Grissom would be going back to his and Sara's house, while Sara, Catherine, Lindsey, and Betty would be spending the night in a suite at the Eclipse, where they would be pampered and prepped the next morning.

Although she and Catherine had not always seen eye to eye, Sara was quite amused by the way her friend and former colleague had embraced the role of fairy godmother for this, Sara's second wedding to their former graveyard shift supervisor. Catherine had helped Sara shop for a wedding dress and arranged for both a hair stylist and a makeup artist to assist Sara, as well as Lindsey, Betty, and herself, on the day of the wedding.

Sara had tried to insist she could do her own hair and makeup, but Catherine had not been having any of it. "You know that thing you started doing when you dress up, where you twist your hair back and then leave the chunky pieces around your face? Yeah, it's not good," Catherine had told her.

Sara hadn't really known how to argue with that and hadn't bothered to try. So, on the day of this, her second wedding, Sara Sidle was to be styled and made up. It would be just slightly more effort than she'd put in for her first wedding, in Costa Rica, for which she had at least made sure to wear clean khakis.

When Grissom was about to depart for the night, Sara accompanied her groom outside to speak with him alone for the last time before the following day's ceremony.

"Hey," Grissom said, fishing around in the pocket of his blazer, "I have something my mom wanted me to give you."

"Oh?" Sara was a little surprised.

"I think she feels bad you never got to wear it the first time we were married—that it was a bad omen or something." He took Sara's hand and slipped the antique diamond engagement ring on her previously bare left ring finger. "It was my grandmother's—my dad's mom's. My dad gave it to my mom when they got married." Grissom had contemplated asking his mother for the ring after the first time he and Sara had married, but Betty and Sara's initial meetings were so awkward that he'd been a bit fearful of broaching the subject.

"Oh!" Sara was now more than a little surprised. Sara was so surprised that she was, in a rare Sara Sidle occurrence, rather speechless.

"I know you always said you didn't want an engagement ring, but I think she's hoping you'll wear it tomorrow."

Sara had always told Grissom—completely honestly—that an engagement ring would be a waste of money because she'd almost never wear it. It would hardly have been practical for the job. Instead they'd compromised on a very nice (though significantly less expensive) necklace to add to Sara's collection. This ring was different, though. This was an antique, passed down from Grissom's grandmother—an heirloom. Sara had never even met any of her grandparents, and she certainly didn't have any family heirlooms to wear. She still didn't know quite what to say.

"It could be your something old, if you really wanted to be traditional," he half-joked.

"I think Catherine wants to make sure I have those bases covered this time, too." Sara shook her head in amusement. "She's not leaving anything to chance, she says." She laughed. "I guess I can tell her I have something old and something borrowed already covered now."

Grissom shook his head, too, but in contradiction. "Something old and something new—new to you."

"Oh." Sara was even more speechless now.

From what Grissom had said initially, Sara hadn't been sure whether Betty intended anything more than a loan for the wedding. She looked down again at her hand, which Grissom was still holding in his. The antique ring wasn't something she'd wear every day, but it was still a spectacular object, and she wasn't sure she'd be able to put into words how much it meant to her to be considered part of their family like that.

Only rarely having been faced with a speechless Sara, Grissom struggled to fill the void. "This isn't the first time I've given that ring to a girl, you know." He nodded down at her hand.

Come again, Mister? "Oh," she said, with a hint of confusion and, perhaps, even a smidge of annoyance.

"Nicole Daley. We met at school."

They'd revisited the question of relationships past after Sara had been caught unaware during an interrogation of a murder suspect. Grissom had most certainly never mentioned a prior engagement, and Sara was more than a little unimpressed only to be hearing about it for the first time now, on the eve of their second wedding. What else might he have failed to tell her? If this was his idea of complete honesty, they would have to work on their timing, because this was most certainly honesty delayed.

"Second grade. She liked bugs, too. But then my mom found out, and she made me get the ring back."

He'd done that on purpose. Sara glowered at him. She briefly wished she had a bed or a car window from which to shove him. But then she remembered he'd just given her his grandmother's engagement ring, with his mother's blessing, and she went back to feeling a little speechless.

"It's very difficult to find a girl who likes bugs. You didn't really like bugs, at first." He half-smirked.

"So why did you waste your time with me?" she managed to tease.

"Well, as you know, you can be very persuasive. Plus, you had other redeeming features—other redeeming qualities."

"And what were those?" she asked in a way that made him really wish they wouldn't be spending the night in separate beds.

"You liked severed heads."

Sara laughed. "Thank you, for the ring. I'll tell your mom how much it means to me."

As they stood together under the starry night's sky, the sound of the Righteous Brothers singing "Unchained Melody" wafted out from Catherine's open front windows. Sara put her right hand on Grissom's neck then his shoulder, and she just gazed at him for a moment. Sara thought she could spend forever lost in the bright blue California eyes that would always be hers.

After some time spent lost in those eyes, finally she kissed him, of course, and she kept kissing him, and he kept kissing her, and probably they could have stood pressed together like that all night, making out like a couple of teenagers in Catherine's front yard, except—

Eventually the voice of Catherine herself wafted out to them, threatening to kick both their asses if they didn't get moving. If these two geniuses screwed things up again, it wasn't going to be on Catherine's (unsevered) head.

UP NEXT: NEXT CHAPTER: NOT EVERY LOVE STORY NEEDS A WEDDING, BUT THIS ONE DOES.

NOTES

On Sara and Grissom's rehearsal dinner looks:

For the rehearsal dinner, I very specifically picture JF's appearance on The Talk in 2013 for Sara's look. It's one of my very favourite JF looks. Earlier seasons Sara had some really good court looks ("Happenstance" (07x08), anyone?), so I totally think she could pull it off.

Given the frequency with which both Gil Grissom and William Petersen wear all black, I was going to say that Grissom looked a little like when he said goodbye to Sara at the lab in "Immortality" (16), only with black dress pants and a long-sleeved black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up a bit. But then I found a picture, from a September 22, 2015 press event at the Four Seasons Beverly Hills, with WP in a sports coat, leaning on a short garden retaining wall. So, yes, please; we'll go with that latter one.

[Unfortunately I cannot give you the links here, but if you want to check them out specifically you can go to this chapter of the story on AO3 or to the Tumblr post I just made specifically for this purpose and tagged "#gsr rehearsal dinner 2015."

SOUNDTRACK LISTING

Ben E. King. "Stand By Me."

Creedence Clearwater Revival. "Long As I Can See the Light."

The Righteous Brothers. "Unchained Melody."

(You can listen to the songs in my playlist for this series, which can be found by searching my username on Spotify.)

A/N:

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! The next should be up in the next few weeks and will see our two lovely science nerds finally remarried. 💕 I wrote most of the wedding back in summer 2022 and was planning to post it last fall, until taken down by my anxiety, so I am really very excited that we've finally made it this far! 💖

As I indicated in the last chapter's end notes, I had thought that before I got these two finally married off it would be fun to revisit their first night together—that is, San Francisco, February 1998—a task I hadn't really felt up to the first time around. So on September 21 (the two-year anniversary of when I began posting this series!) I posted a 15k story (spiritually a one-shot but broken into two chapters for ease of reading/navigation) to accomplish that. That story is not technically part of this series but is meant to fit within its storyline. It's rated M for very adult content, and it's intended to be true to the characters but also just a bit of a fun romp (đŸ”„). You can find it on my profile, if you're interested:

"I Want You; or, The First Time."

That story also has a (rather elaborate!) GIF-set as cover art, which you can find on Tumblr. (It includes Gunshy WP, my beloved, and TWW JF, as well as several moments from CSI/CSIV, and I had a lot of fun with it!)

Thank you so, so very much for reading. As always, if you are still here following along with this story/series, I would truly love to hear from you, even if it's just an emoji or two. Your kind comments always, always, always make my day. 💛💛💛