Disclaimer: Not Mine.

A/N: This started as a tickle in my brain just over thirteen months ago. I expected to write a little case file (get my feet wet). I didn't expect this. But here it is. Finally! I want to thank Cropper and Superlibn who started this journey with me. Their help was (and is) most appreciated. Also, I would especially like to thank Mingsmommy and Losingntrnslatn who helped me carry the ball over the line! And last, but not least, I want to thank everyone who has read and commented and cheered me on. This wouldn't be half the story it is without you.

January 22, 2009

The buzz of the propeller grew louder as the plane neared the airport on San Cristobel Island. Most days, the sound signaled the appearance of another handful of tourists, just there to take pictures of the flora and fauna found on the tiny island. Most days, Sara had no interest in the arrival and departure of the planes that shuttled passengers back and forth to Guayaquil, Ecuador. But today was different.

So much had happened in the year since Malachi Rosenthal passed through their lives. Warrick's death shocked and saddened everyone, punching a huge hole in a team that was already struggling. Then she had asked Grissom to leave, to run away with her, knowing before she asked what the answer would be.

Leaving without him had been one of the hardest things she'd ever done. Sending him the email urging him to move on had been her last effort to give him back what he so obviously wanted: his safe, comfortable life and his hard won career. Saying those things, telling him to move on, nearly tore her apart. She loved him. She would always love him. Telling him they were over didn't make it true, at least not for her.

Shading her eyes with her hand, Sara stared at the sky. The brilliant sun warmed her arms and legs even as the breeze lifted her hair off her neck. What started as a spec on the horizon was now very obviously a twenty passenger prop plane and Sara couldn't stop the smile sliding over her face.

She wasn't surprised when he failed to respond to her email. That wasn't his way. He avoided confrontation at all cost, especially with her. And as the weeks passed Sara found herself accepting that they were really and truly finished. When his name appeared in her inbox she waited two days before opening the message, her heart and mind warring over the decision. The wounds were healing and she was afraid of tearing them open again. But, in the end, her heart won out. It always did.

There were no quotes from the Bard, no flowery passages from Longfellow or Browning or Keats. The email was pure Grissom; each and every word. He told her he was sorry. He told her he missed her. He told her what a fool he was. More importantly, he told her how very much he loved her and how empty his life was without her.

It took her two days before she was able to respond.

When the wheels touched down with a sharp bark of rubber on asphalt, she had to force herself not to run out to meet him. Months, years, she waited and it had finally paid off with the arrival of the tiny white plane currently taxiing toward the hangar. Shoving her hands in her pockets, she bounced on the balls of her feet; energy surging through her body, anticipation making her unable to stand still.

After what felt like a lifetime, the door opened and the passengers began to disembark. There were a handful of college students, each wearing the baggy clothes and the requisite flip flops, which seemed more like a uniform than a statement anymore. She knew they were there to volunteer at the research center when she saw the director rush over to greet them. Giving him a quick wave, she turned back to the plane. Next off were two couples who had undoubtedly come over for a day trip. Cameras in hand, they climbed into one of the two waiting taxis.

Finally, when she began to feel the first rush of disappointment, the first tingle of fear that he had changed his mind, he was there. Grissom. In that impossible Hawaiian shirt and the straw hat she loved to hate. With his hair curling against his collar and a duffle bag slung over one shoulder, he made his way down the stairs. Stopping at the bottom, he looked around, his face lighting up when he saw her.

He took the first step. She was almost positive he did. But, if she was honest, it didn't matter who made the first move. All that was important to her were his arms around her, his mouth on hers. He was warm and alive and so very real. And her heart began to heal.

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Grissom's fingers trailed slowly up and down her spine. The breeze lifted the gauzy curtains, drying the sweat on his skin. The warm air carried the clean scent of the ocean, a far cry from the stench of exhaust fumes so prevalent in Las Vegas. With his eyes closed, Grissom reveled in the feel of Sara's naked, sated form snuggled against him, of her fingers tracing random patterns on his bare chest.

"Penny for your thoughts." He turned and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Hmmmm." Sara stretched, her soft skin sliding against him. "I was just thinking how great this dream is." Her normally husky voice was deeper as she floated on the edge of sleep.

Chuffing out a laugh, Grissom clasped her hand and brought it to his lips. He brushed a kiss over the ring on her third finger. "It's not a dream, Sara."

"Are you sure?" Timid and uncertain, the question whispered over his skin.

He turned until he was lying on his side, his eyes finding hers in the dim light of the moon filtering through the open doors. Brushing her hair off her cheek, Grissom let his eyes drift over her face. With a finger, he traced the curve of her brow, the line of her jaw, the fullness of her mouth. After a while, he placed a soft kiss on her lips.

"Sara, I…my whole life has been shaped by loss." Grissom's eyes closed for a second as he gathered his thoughts. "You know, when my father died nobody would tell me what happened. That's why I decided to do what I do…did." With a gentle smile he kissed her nose. "It's going to take a while to get used to that."

"We've got time." Sara ran a hand over his beard.

"My mother never got over him." Grissom turned his head into her hand, kissing her palm. "I watched her suffer. I watched her miss him every single day. And it scared me. To love like that scared me…so much."

"Gil," Sara's eyes filled with tears. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. I was happy with my life. I had a job I loved. I played the occasional game of poker with acquaintances who didn't want anything but my money. I raced my roaches." He shrugged. Then, with a sigh, he sat up and leaned back against the headboard, the sheet bunching around his hips. Sara moved up to sit beside him, watching his face as he spoke. "I thought my life was fine. Then I met you. And I knew you were it."

Sara gave him a watery smile. "It?"

He chuckled. "Yes. You were it. The one. Just like my father was the one for my mother." He turned, his eyes finding hers in the muted light. "I ran as fast and as far as I could. But then Holly was shot and I called you."

Sara swiped at the tears on her cheeks. "Nick was taken and we ended up in bed."

"My mother died and Jim was shot…" Grissom shrugged.

"And you went to Massachusetts."

Grissom wrapped his hand around hers, threading their fingers together. "You were kidnapped and everything went wrong." He paused to stare at their hands for a moment, willing the images of her battered body out of his mind.

"Then Warrick…" He drew in a shuddering breath. "And you asked me to go away with you. I wanted to…"

"So why didn't you?" Sara's words were gentle, curious.

"I was scared." With a quick shake of his head, Grissom said, "That's only partly true. I was angry.

"You did what I always knew you would. After Natalie, you left me. I let you in and you left." Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Grissom continued, "But I never really let you in. Not completely."

Sara climbed out of bed, picked up his shirt and slipped into it. Her hands trembled as she buttoned it. "You gave me what you could." With a last look at him, she stepped out onto the balcony.

Grissom muttered a curse and, flinging the sheet off, climbed out of bed. He found his pants draped over the chair in the corner of the room. Slipping them on, he zipped them, but didn't bother with the button. Then he followed Sara.

The moonlight painted a brilliant path along the water and gave the soft white sand a silvery glow. The only sound was the rush of the waves against the sand.

"I know it wasn't enough." Grissom tilted his head back to look at the stars.

For a long while they stood, leaning against the railing and staring out at the sea. Just off the beach, several fur seals frolicked in the calm water, hunting and feeding while the sun was down. Finally, Sara straightened up and stretched. Arms over her head, rising up on her toes, the hem of the shirt barely reaching to top of her thighs, she groaned.

"I'm gonna get a beer. You want one?"

Grissom nodded. "Yeah."

Sara padded inside and returned with two bottles. Grissom took his and murmured his thanks before taking a long drink. His throat worked as he swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing, muscles moving under the skin. He could feel her eyes on him, the heat of her gaze.

Sated for the moment, he checked the label. "Nevada?"

Sara smirked and shrugged. "It's good beer."

He nodded. "Sara, I..," he began.

"Why did you…?" Sara spoke at the same time.

After a brief chuckle, Grissom motioned for her to continue.

She turned to face him. "Why did you come here?"

He took another swallow before cupping the bottle in his hands. "I lost the one thing I couldn't live without."

With a hand that shook, Sara reached out and cupped his cheek. Gently, she turned his face toward her. "What?"

"You."

Shaking her head, she ran her hand through his hair. "You never lost me. I was right here waiting."

Then she pulled him down until their lips met. The kiss was soft and sweet and full of hope. A promise for the future.

Pulling back, Grissom kept his arms around her waist. "Sara, I want to be what you need. Anything, everything you need me to be.

"You always have been." She smiled up at him, her fingers toying with the curls at his hairline. "Come back to bed?"

Much later, with Sara snuggled peacefully beside him, Grissom said a prayer of thanks. She was so beautiful, so vibrant, so alive. Murmuring quietly to what he thought was his sleeping wife he couldn't help the thread of emotion running through his words. "I am so much less than you deserve."

She shifted and he could see she was hovering on the cusp of sleep. Sara's whisper was drowsy and barely loud enough to be heard over the night sounds, but filled with love. "You're all I've ever wanted."

"I don't know why, but I am grateful." Gently, he kissed her warm, soft cheek.

She blinked, large, sleepy eyes at him. "I just think we are meant to be." She sighed and burrowed into him. "Destiny." She yawned. "Fate."

Smiling, he pulled her closer. "God's will."