Title: Connections IV: Brass

Author: Summer Reign

Rating: T

Disclaimer: Not mine. Entertainment purposes only. Yada. Yada.

Summary: The never ending saga of the friends Gil and Sara made along the way.

It's Brass' turn.

Goodbye, Sara. Say goodbye.

She couldn't. Not to him. She wasn’t ready. Didn’t she already say that?

Bye- bye, Sara. Sara, say goodbye.

"Sara?"

She groaned a bit and felt his arms around her. She'd know the feel of him anywhere: the warm strength of his embrace; the feel of his breath against her ear; the soft, smooth expanse of his cheek.

Wait. His cheeks weren’t smooth. They were bristly.

Just who the hell was in bed with her?

She sat up with a start only to see…

The cleanly shaved face of Gil Grissom.

"Sara? I think you were having a nightmare," he said.

Yes, that was him all right. Sara still could feel her heart thudding against the wall of her chest. She looked at the bedside clock. She had fallen asleep only a couple of hours before. After Gil decided to share his wish for a slow, painful death so he could say goodbye to the apparent myriad of people he loved. After they decided to celebrate life a bit. And her last memory of the evening had definitely been sharing afterglow with a bearded man.

"What…" she gestured at his face.

He grinned. "Like it?"

She took a deep breath. Calm. Be calm. It's all normal and there is an explanation. "Of course I do. But, when did you do this?"

"A few minutes ago. You were sleeping so soundly, I decided to take advantage of this rather rare occurrence and observe you while you were at rest. Your skin really hasn’t become accustomed to my beard at all.”

"It's just a little reaction. It goes away in a few days."

"Well, sooner or later, the fact that you wear turtleneck sweaters in 100 degree weather will strike our team of crack investigators as odd. Besides, you shouldn't have to suffer for my vanity," he said, rolling his eyes at his own words.

She finally smiled. "What are you going to tell them when they ask why you shaved your beard?"

"I'll tell them my face was hot."

It was her turn to roll her eyes.

"Not convincing enough?" he asked.

"Oh, no. It's fine. Actually, it's very 'you.'"

"Thanks. I think. So, what was your nightmare about?"

She gave a slight shudder. "I don't know."

"You don't want to talk about it?"

"No. I don't mind talking about it but I don't remember any details. Just…someone saying it was time to say goodbye. Brass, I think. But, more than that, it was just this unbearable feeling of sadness and depression."

“I guess we shouldn't talk about death before going to bed."

"We talk about death all the time."

"But we don't personalize it. Actually…" he started, then stopped.

"What?"

"You never really told me how you'd like to go," he said, sheepishly.

She winced a bit and a brief flash of regret crossed his face.

"I'm sorry, Sara. You don't have to answer…"

"I'd like to die with your arms around me."

Grissom's eyes got wide, then he smirked. "Well, my dear, I hate to break it to you but the odds are not in favor of you leaving this mortal coil first."

"Doesn't matter, really," she shrugged. "If you aren't there physically, I'll still have the memory."

Sara found it very strange that a beardless-Grissom was even harder to read than when his face was covered with hair. Perhaps he didn't self-censor as much when he was 'protected.' Or maybe this was an 'over-share' he wasn't quite comfortable with and he was presenting a look from his blank stare collection.

"You might have a whole new life by then,” he finally said.

She bit her lower lip and shook her head slightly. Then she ran her fingers across his incredibly soft cheek. What she wanted to say would remain unsaid…for now…

Besides, she had a strong feeling that, somehow, he knew.

She'd never be able to say goodbye to Gil Grissom.

“Bon jour, mon amour” Sara said, as Gil walked through the door.

He took his cue and went over to her, grabbed her hand and started kissing his way up her arm.

“Cara mia,” he said in response, as Sara laughed and playfully scolded him.

“Okay. That’s it. I’m cutting you off from all ‘Addams Family’ reruns. Last thing I need is a Cousin It around here, Gomez.”

He smirked and went over the couch. She went back to cooking dinner, as Hank dutifully sought an opportunity to carry out his duties as Canine Hoover.

Life had changed, once again. They went to California, checked into another extended-stay hotel until they could find a new home, and then found out the foundation that was going to support their research had their Board of Directors put all funding on hold for at least another fiscal year. It was back to the drawing board and Gil started looking at the piled up letters offering him various visiting scientist appointments. They headed to Paris within the space of a month.

He was enjoying the Sorbonne and she was enjoying everything about Europe. She had never been much of a traveler outside of the United States so she was gratefully soaking in everything. Trains had become her new friend and she found it astonishing that you could be in other countries so quickly and see so much in the process. In the meantime, since former, burned-out CSIs were not really in demand on the lecture circuit, she was polishing up her French so she could get a “real” job, although she didn’t expect much more, perhaps, than waitressing in a restaurant that was (perhaps) a step higher than the local McDonalds.

Still, life was pretty good.

And she was … feeling guilty again. Because life was going to change even more very shortly.

She supposed she could blame it on the e-mail from Brass that she received a few weeks before.

To: SSidle

Hey, Sara.

I hear through the grapevine that you and your Significant Other have hit Europe now. The Sorbonne. Sounds…ritzy. Actually, I thought it was a cooking school. That’s how much this NJ-born and bred guy knows about French academia. Unless, of course, the Bugman has decided to go all culinary on us.

Lord knows, he’s changed quite a bit from the anti-social Joe I first encountered.

Love does that to a guy.

Of course, it took him a really long time to "transform" but I hope you’re finding it worth the wait.

I guess you must be surprised to hear from me. And I didn’t want you to think that I wasn’t happy for you. I was. And am. But I have to admit that I’m not always Rico Suave when it comes to the things I do and say. And I haven’t been able to find the right words. So, yesterday, when I found out about this French thing, I decided I’d better just write before the years flew by faster than the countries on your itinerary.

You’ve always meant the world to me, kiddo. I hope you know that. And I know I wasn’t Mr. Sensitivity when you were having difficulties on that last case. And I’m really sorry about that. You are so strong that—you’re sometimes hard to read. And it wasn’t like that time when you were experiencing your “cold.” Then, you had no one in your life. And you were being strong without having a support system to give that strength a little backup. Now, I figured—you had Grissom.

Wait…it sounds like I’m blaming him. Or making excuses. And I’m not. The thing is…I’m sorry. That’s what I’m clumsily trying to tell you.

And, another thing, even though I do—and will continue to—miss the two of you like crazy—I’m glad you’ve started a new life far away from this field. It nearly brought you both down and out and that’s not something that either of you should have had to experience.

Be happy, kiddo. I regret never having had the chance to say goodbye. Oh, I know Grissom probably believes we’ll all get together and go fishing someday, but we know that doesn’t happen in real life.

Still, I will always smile when I think of the two of you.

Love, Jim

To say that email brought up a lot of unresolved issues would be an understatement. And, to complicate matters further, she received a phone call from Ecklie a couple of weeks later. Well, frankly, she thought the phone call was originally intended for the other Grissom in the household. But, she was the Grissom that was home. And, to give him credit, he went through with it and asked her the question, as if he had been meaning to do so all along. Could she—or they-- think of someone they could recommend as a CSI, since the lab was suddenly short on staff (the "again" was implied)?

And, before she could think much about it, she volunteered herself.

By the time she thought more about it and called Ecklie back, asking if she could give him a definitive answer the following day, she found out Ecklie had called her husband to ask for "permission to borrow his wife."

Sara thought Ecklie phrased it that way to amuse her.

This time.

But, it pissed her off.

Still, she asked for the time. She took marriage very seriously, surprisingly. It wasn't just a piece of paper for her, after all. It was the ultimate in commitments. And she was going to make theirs work.

So, when Gil came home that day, they discussed it all.

"When you left, did they throw you a party? You never did say." Truth was, she never thought to ask. Nearly eight months later and she was still shocked at what had happened between the two of them, never mind the details of how he left the lab.

"No party. I just…left."

"You didn't tell anyone?"

"I told everyone. Several weeks in advance, actually."

"Really?"

"Yes. I thought it was only right."

"It was. But, you didn't say your goodbyes?"

He sighed. "Actually, I said goodbye, in one way or another, to everyone. And, really, it was just the way I wanted it. A few words with each of them. Privately. No fuss. Just…a few words…"

She smiled softly. So much for his big goodbyes to those he loved. Of course, he wasn't dying. Just going off and getting married…which some men considered a fate worse than death…but…

"I…never had a chance to say goodbye. Not to any of them. Not the first time I ran. Or the second."

"Different circumstances, Sara."

"I know. I know that. But…it bothers me that the last memory they have of me…the last memory they will always have of me is of this broken woman who had to run away from everything she worked for. Everything she was good at. Everything and everyone she cared about. I guess I never really realized how much that bothers me until recently."

"So…you want to leave them with another memory?"

"I guess so. I cared about them, Gil. And I missed them. I still do. Maybe more now than ever. I don't like them thinking that I…snapped. And I want to prove to myself that I'm not that broken woman. That she's not lurking somewhere beneath the surface, ready to take over again."

"Do you really fear that?"

"I don't know. I never feared it after I woke up in the hospital. After Natalie. And then…it just happened. So, the fact that I don't particularly fear it is not a great comfort."

It was his turn to smile. That soft, understanding smile.

"You're sure you want to do this alone?"

"Yes. You were ready to leave when you left, weren't you?"

He winced slightly. "Yes. I waited until I was ready."

"Well, I guess I wasn't quite ready. I thought I was but that was just the panic talking. I don't want to do this permanently. Not even long-term. I just want to do it until they hire someone. Until I've worked a few cases and just feel…useful. So I can look at this whole phase in my life with some sort of pride, instead of shame."

He narrowed his eyes and looked at her intently. "You should never be ashamed. Ever. Of anything."

"I won't be. Soon."

He pursed his lips briefly and nodded.

"Okay, then."

And so it was decided.

And she was making a casserole and soaking in these last few days of being the wife of a visiting professor from the States.

She put the food in the oven and joined him on the couch.

The Addams Family. Dubbed in French. Lurch had a certain added charm with a French accent.

She leaned her head against Grissom's shoulder.

"Cara mia," she said and closed her eyes for a moment, soaking in the warmth and the clean, masculine scent of the man she loved more and more, each day.

To: JBrassLVPD

From: SpouseofSidle

Re : A Request

Jim,

By the time you read this, Sara will be somewhere over the Atlantic. On her way back to the lab.

I know you don't share confidences. And I trust you not to tell her about this email. She doesn't need to know of my insecurities. Not in her. Never in her. But, certain events occurred in that last year I was in Vegas. Certain events happened in all the years I was in Vegas. The only thing was…so much of it was tempered because I had Sara by my side.

I remember when I took over your job. It was overwhelming…until she arrived. And then it was all … manageable.

I guess I should have known right there.

But, the thing is, I know now. And you've known this feeling before yourself. I want to protect her from everything. All harm. All hurt.

And none of us can do that for our loved ones.

All we can do is hope for the best.

And…ask for backup, when necessary.

So, as one friend to another, please … watch out for her. She is … everything to me.

Warmest Regards,

Gil.

Jim Brass read through the email and smirked. Then, he cracked his knuckles and started typing.

To: SpouseofSidle

From: JBrassLVPD

Re: Your request

Nice email moniker you got there.

You know, I think our friendship would have been damned near-Hallmark-worthy if only we had stuck to the internet. Geez, I learned more about you in one email than in a decade of seeing you every day.

Of course I'll take care of her.

And all I'll ask in return is that we actually DO go fishing one day. I'll even rent a damned boat!

Take care (and drop the kid a line once in a while to actually let her know you miss her. Dames like that kind of junk, you know),

Jim

Jim Brass powered down his computer and went out to finish his workday.

Tomorrow would be fun.

Screw goodbyes.

He'd get to say hello…again…to one of his favorite people.

The End.

A/N: I didn't keep my promise of finishing this tome before Sara's return. So, now, I'm stuck with canon. And I needed a way to make this work. So…I finagled and came up with this scenario.

One more chapter and I'm done. And I'm not doing a series again. Smack me if I ever change my mind.

My French is limited to what I get from the net.

My Italian is limited to what I can pilfer from the Addams Family (in fact, I thought it was actually Spanish until Google informed me that I was an ignoramus).

And…credit where credit is due. When William Petersen was asked why he shaved (post season 7), he said he did so, one day, because "his face was hot."

And that's when I knew he probably was taking on more of Gil Grissom than he ever thought he would.

But, I love that line. And stole it. Thanks Billy.