Grissom flipped through the mail after taking hank for a long walk. He was finally getting into new normal with Sara gone. He often still found himself working overtime but not nearly as much as he had in the initial weeks after her departure. He'd come home, take Hank for a long walk, make himself something to eat, shower, read, sleep, repeat. His hobbies have all lost their luster, he couldn't even continue with the bee experiment, finding himself too sad to be in that space now.

A smile crept onto his face as he came across a letter with her handwriting on it. He took a seat on the couch and opened the letter.

Gil,

I know we've found it hard to talk lately with our schedules now being opposite one another. Perhaps writing to each other would feel right? I was inspired by the letter you wrote but never sent from your sabbatical, yes I found and read it. And while I don't have it with me, your words are cemented in my mind. Happily. They warm me when I feel alone.

It's been good for me to have a break from the life of a criminalist. I haven't read a forensic journal, listened to a scanner or been near a dead body in so long, it has become to feel normal that the average person doesn't see death so much. And it has helped me see more clearly.

I've been working in a research assistant capacity at Stanford. It's been refreshing to be surrounded by study and science. Bright young minds yearning to learn, invigorated and care-free.

But I think of you often. How much I miss you is endless. I miss the life we had together. When things were covert and tender and cloaked in knowing looks and riddles. Stolen glances down lab corridors. Stealing moments in your office. I miss working side-by-side with you. Solving puzzles together. Becoming energized by your drive. I miss your touch. I miss the way it felt to be close to you. I miss the way it felt to be held by you.

I hope you're doing well. I hope you're only pulling as many double shifts as you find necessary, and not much more. I hope we can see each other soon.

Lovingly yours,

Sara

He thumbed over her handwriting. Feeling closer to her knowing she'd touched this paper. That her prints were on it.

Then, he had a thought. At first he thought it an odd thing to do, but he found himself unable to resist the urge. He brought the letter into the study and took out some print powered from a bottom desk drawer. Slowly, He brushed the powder over the envelope. It was littered with different prints, big and small from the mail carriers and facilities. But then, as he traced the powder of the back side, at the envelope's point, an unmistakable patterned emerged. She had kissed the envelope.

He sat back in his chair and looked at it. Everything that is visible hides something that is invisible. He thought to himself. His mood instantly lifted from the mundane drudge that had become the motions of his life.

He took some stationary out from the middle drawer and picked up a pen. It's heavy weight felt right in his hand as he began to scrawl a response.

Sara,

Your letter found me fine and left me sublime.

I can picture you in that academic setting again and already, without seeing you, know it suits you. Tell me more about your position, what experiments are you running? I cannot fault you for escaping Vegas to rejoin a collegiate campus. After all, my sabbatical was just last year. I can understand the healing nature of the book clad walls and brick inlays.

In regards to that sabbatical, I am unsure why I couldn't find the courage to send it. I had written it just after sending you the cocoon. After it came to my attention that perhaps I should have included a message. And then, it also dawned on me, at that point in time I had never, in any sense, really verbalized how I felt about you. And in an instant the words flowed through my mind onto the paper before I became more lucid, to fear the potential rejection that might inflict.

By now, I trust that I have used more words to express those feelings to you. Whether my own words, or borrowed by a poet.

I also yearn for how things once were, for yesterday. I am comforted only by the knowledge that while that song has ended, the melody lingers on.

I hold you in my heart.

Intimately yours,

Gil

P.S. I sent it this time, didn't I?

Grissom neatly folded the letter and placed it within an envelope. He copied the address over from her return address and stamped it. He found himself giddy with the idea of this thread over time. A regular correspondence and identification of where she was. Because she was right, they had been unable to catch each other by phone for a while now. The team was still short having never filled Sara's position originally when she was moved to swing. And Warrick was another story on all his own. His inability to rely on Warrick lately was causing a lot of late mornings and triple shifts. And while it did keep him away from catching Sara's calls, he was generally fine with the distraction.

May 2008

Grissom breathed in the warm air as he rode along in a golf cart through the studio lot, Brass by his side. The two were just wrapping a case that they followed from Vegas to LA. He was in a much better mood then he'd been over the past few months—a fact not lost on his detective friend.

Despite closing the case, the lack of physical evidence made the DA filling charges quite unlikely, something that would typically irritate and dampen Grissom's mood. But not today.

"What's going on with you?" Brass asked as they walked through LAX.

"What do you mean?"

"You seem… happy. I haven't seen you this okay since Sara was… you know…" Brass didn't want to evoke the trauma of that event, but it was the truth.

"Oh." Was all he managed.

"I guess what I'm saying…" Brass continued, "Is you're playing out of character as these Hollywood types might say."

Grissom simply smiled but didn't say a word until he stoped walking. Brass looked up, "This isn't our gate."

"This is my gate." Grissom amended for him.

Brass looked up at the ticker against the gate agent's desk. Next flight out was to San Fransisco. His features softened and a wide smile replaced his confused features.

"Good for you buddy." Brass put a strong, supporting hand on Grissom's shoulder and patted him a few times, "Tell her I say hello, will you?"

He nodded, "I'll see you."

Grissom watched as Brass continued to walk down the hanger's corridor. He cousin't tell if the pit in his stomach was nerves or excitement. Maybe it was both. It had been seven months since he'd last seen Sara, he realized. Seven months since he held her, felt her, kissed her. Seven months since he'd felt himself.

He'd spoken to Sara briefly the day before and they'd made plans to meet at the Golden Gate Bridge at Fort Point Park. And that's exactly where he found her when he exited the taxi. The park wasn't very crowded being a weekday afternoon. He spotted her easily. Sitting atop a picnic table, a book laid open in her lap but her head was turned upward, seemingly taking in the sky. Her brown hair flowed back as the wind pushed it out of her face.

He breathed in deeply, taking in every aspect of this moment and committing it to memory. She seemed so relaxed, so at peace. He approached her slowly, treasuring the view just a moment longer.

"Hi." He was surprised at how softly his words left his throat, his voice was almost a whisper.

She whipped her head around to see him standing there. Her lips quivered as they turned upward. She stood and threw herself into his arms, hugging him tightly and nuzzling her head into his chest. She breathed in, smelling him. Taking in his warmth. His stature. His hands gently placed on her back now.

He closed his eyes and focused on her warm body press against his, her soft hair kissing his cheeks. He felt her clinging to him tightly and like finding that last piece of a jigsaw, he felt complete again. He hugged her a little tighter now at the realization and leaned his chin against her. His body relaxing for the first time since she left. The tension melting.

She leaned back, still in his embrace, and looked up into his deep blue eyes. He smiled and softly pressed his lips against hers.

"Hello, dear."

"Hi." Was all she could manage. Even though she knew he was coming, having him there was still a shock somehow.

Now being in her presence, Grissom began to understand what Catherine may have been telling him several months prior about going after Sara.

"I'm so happy to see you, Gil." She pressed her lips against his again, wrapping her long, slender fingers around the back of his neck. Her touch made the hairs on his arms stand up.

She moved her fingers to his jawline, tracing his beard, his cheeks, his ears, up through his hair. It had been so long since she could touch him like this. Since she could feel him.

They embraced again and held each other for a long time. Content to just breathe in the other's warmth and energy. His hand held the back of her head, his fingers intertwined throughout her strands, "God, Sara. I've missed you." He breathed into her hair.

"Here is the deepest secret nobody knows. I carry your heart. I carry it in my heart."

He smiled in recognition of the E.E. Cummings poem. "What do you say we go put your things down?" She suggested, nodding toward his duffle.

Grissom stepped over the threshold to the address that he'd been mailing his letters to. The address she'd been staying at for a few months now. Harry had a friend who is studying abroad for the year thus leaving her apartment available for sublet. Originally, when she first arrived in San Fransisco, she stayed with the Crows. But she had never wanted to overstay her welcome, despite their strong protest to the very idea. Having her own space proved to be a good part of the healing process. She continued to see Dave and Susan regularly though.

Grissom placed his bag down near the front door and looked around the space. He hadn't had much of an idea of the place she'd been staying and found himself relieved to put images in place over imagination.

He shrugged off his jacket and placed it on a hook.

"When do you return to Vegas?" She asked as he turned back around.

"Tomorrow evening. I'll go to the lab straight from the airport."

She nodded knowingly, "Well then. I'm not going to waste any of the time we have." She leaned in and kissed his lips with tender affection. Her fingertips stroked at his neck, lightly pulling his chin further toward her. He could taste her now. Flooding his senses in a bliss he'd only had the opportunity to dream of lately. She lead him to the bedroom and proceeded to express just how badly she'd missed him.

Later that night, Susan insisted Sara bring Grissom to the Crow's house for dinner. Harry had just come back from completing his Sophomore year at Harvard. Although Grissom had spoken with Harry over the phone a couple of times now, this would be the first time he'd meet him in person. Susan too.

They sat around the dinning room table enjoying a meal that Dave and Susan had cooked together. It was very… normal. Something Sara cherished about her time with the Crows. And something she was happy to share with Grissom.

The conversation over dinner flowed easily. Susan had a lot of questions for Grissom initially. Trying her best to get a full bio from him until Dave begged her to let the man be.

"She should have been a detective." Dave jabbed.

"What line of work are you in?" Grissom asked Susan at the comment, easily turning the conversation away from himself.

"I'm an art dealer. I run a couple of small galleries across northern California, including one here in the bay."

"You know, my mother is an gallery owner as well."

Susan scrunched her brows in thought, "Did you say you grew up near Santa Monica?" Grissom simply nodded in turn, "You wouldn't be related to a Betty Grissom would you?"

"That's my mother…" He shot Sara a confused look before narrowing back on Susan.

"Get out!" Susan proceeded to describe the lengthy relationship that she and Betty have had over several decades. How they were both art dealers and gallery owners. How they crossed paths often. "I think you and I may have briefly met you before. Were you at her gallery opening in '88?"

"Yes." Grissom spoke a bit dumbfounded, "I was there. I was in-between jobs actually. I had just left my position in Minnesota and was getting ready to start in Vegas."

"What a small world!" Susan was beaming, "I love your mother. She has a fantastic eye for art. Oh my goodness.." Susan spoke in realization, "You know she gave me a bunch of baby clothes for Harry when I was pregnant." She laughed now, "Which means I have your baby clothing upstairs." She shook her head in disbelief, "It's been a couple of years since we crossed paths. Please tell her I say hello. This is unbelievable."

Sara was speechless as she listened to the degrees of separation between them and watched Grissom equally bewildered at the far fetched coincidence.

"You know…" Susan began again in a wistfully soft voice, "Sara, I had invited you to come alone for that trip but you were just getting back from your freshman year at Harvard and had an interview at Berkley for a summer fellowship so you couldn't join me."

"Oh, I do remember that." Sara confirmed.

"If you'd come along, you two would have met a full decade sooner." She smiled with a romantic glimmer in her eye. It caused Grissom to glance Sara's way, thinking about how glad he was that he hadn't met her when she was 17. The age gap was already something he'd had a long reckoning with as is.

"So you were pregnant with me at that point?" Harry asked as he leaned back, finished eating now.

"Exactly." Susan responded, "It was actually during that trip that Betty gave me all those clothes. Because…" She paused to think a moment, "You had just broken up with a serious girlfriend you had at the time and Betty had lost hope of having grandkids one day." She laughed a little at the thought.

Grissom smiled, "I was spending all my money on cadavers and none on Jane." Grissom offered as he glanced at Sara, "I moved to Vegas to play cards, try to earn some extra cash for additional experiments."

"Betty mentioned how displeased she was with your decision."

"She can be very opinionated." Grissom offered and smiled as he thought about the events of the time and how they all lead him to here and now, with Sara by his side.

Then the conversation had quickly switched over to Harry's studies.

"My professor was very impressed with the detailed overview of the synthesis. It was so helpful to have your perspective. Thanks again for takin the time."

"Sounded like a great experiment." Grissom offered through another smile. He'd fully enjoyed helping Harry with the lab and found him to be an excellent student. Grissom found himself enjoying watching the easy interaction Sara and Harry had throughout dinner. It reminded him a bit of how she treated Greg earlier on. Like a little brother.

At some point, as they table was being cleared and dishes being taken care of, Susan had disappeared upstairs. When she returned she had a medium sized box in her hand. She placed it down on a chair and opened it, reached in and pulled out a very small knit sweater.

"I remember Harry wearing that!" Sara smiled widely.

"Don't remind me you knew me in diapers." He blushed.

"I didn't just know you in diapers, I changed your diapers too." For as much as Sara protested having any maternal bone in her body, when she was in San Fransisco over the summers back then, she regularly babysat Harry for the Crows.

"I think your mother knit this one specifically for Harry, but the rest of these are your hand-me-downs." Susan gushed as she pulled a few more pieces out of the box. Grissom watched as Sara held them up, looking at them with awe and amusement. Little socks, overalls, hats and sleepers. All in surprisingly good condition for having been handed down over decades apart.

"I like him." Susan breathed through a smile as she and Dave watched the pair leave their property to head back to her apartment.

"I could see that." He teased.

"It's nice to have her here again." Susan spoke honestly. "With Harry gone too now…"

"I know." He soothed.

"She stayed away for so long."

"She's not ours." Dave reminded Susan. "She knows she's always welcome."

"I wish she would stay."

Dave placed a gentle hand on Susan's shoulder, "If she stayed, it would mean she's not okay."

Susan nodded knowingly and watched alongside Dave as Grissom hand hovered over the small of Sara's back.

Grissom and Sara laid in the bed together. He knew he'd be unable to sleep, this was his "daytime" hours, after all. But Sara had already grown custom to being on the typical day and night schedule as the rest of the world by now. Their heads laid against the pillows, turned toward each other. His hand stroking her hair, letting his fingers feel and memorize its softness.

"I'm fairly shocked about the baby clothing." Sara spoke finally. "It's quite the coincidence."

"It is." He agreed, uncharacteristically. No speech or quote to disprove the idea of a coincidence.

There was another pleasant silence but Sara could see the gears in his head turning. She knew he was trying to think of a way to say something so she waited patiently to find out what that may be.

"I liked seeing you hold those clothes. I could picture you… you know…"

"As a mom?" She expressed her shock at his sentiment.

He simply nodded in turn.

"I thought…"

"Oh I don't know." Grissom spoke, "I'm not being overly serious. It was just a thought."

Another uncharacteristic Grissom response. To not be overly serious, to express a thought before fully baking it. She wondered what that was about. If something primal in him was bubbling up, causing him to think about fatherhood. Perhaps Betty's questioning a little while back had opened a door in his mind he'd thought was closed and out of order.

She scooted herself a little closer to him, "What did you think of Harry?"

He took note of how easily she changed the subject, "Smart kid. I can see why you two remain close."