A/N: This story is a companion piece to Better This Way, a post-ep I wrote for Immortality where I delve a little into Grissom's reasons for walking away from Sara. As you may know, even though we got our happy-ever-after, the ending to the finale left me…dissatisfied, so I thought I'd rewrite it and get into Sara's thoughts a little more. She's at the pinnacle of her career; how could she just give it all up like that? I'm not changing anything we saw in the episode, just putting my spin on it.

The dialogue at the start is taken straight from the episode itself, and isn't mine. It's just a reminder, and a lead into the story. There's also a bit of dialogue with Lindsey, which is also taken from the episode and isn't mine. You'll recognise it.

This story is going to be a short one, which I hope you'll enjoy. It's still all very hazy in my head, so as usual ideas and suggestions and comments are welcome and a great source of inspiration and encouragement.

Thank you.

Can't Let Go.

GRISSOM claps Sara getting the directorship.

SARA beams, laughs: Thank you. I never thought I'd see this day coming. But, with DB out…

GRISSOM: You deserve it. Vegas is lucky to have you.

SARA: The oceans are lucky to have you.

GRISSOM smiles stiffly, nods.

SARA: Ironic, isn't it? I'm the one that always wanted to get out of Vegas and you're the one who thought you would never leave.

GRISSOM: Yeah. Well. So…

SARA: I hope you find what you're looking for out there. Bye Gil.

Sara was pleased with her performance. Despite the turmoil inside, her goodbye had been controlled and to the point. He'd been left with no illusions that she still harboured feelings for him. She'd told him earlier in the case that she'd put her professional mask on, and she kept it on till the very end. She felt proud of herself, of the way she'd conducted herself. She acted like she'd moved on from him and their love, their life together, even though she hadn't.

There had been no tears, no emotional blackmail, or recriminations. Sure, she was torn-up inside, but he didn't see it. She didn't want him to feel guilty for choosing a life he loved away from her, nor did she want him to settle for a life with her if it wasn't what he truly wanted. Clearly he loved being at sea more than he loved being with her. He was happy with his life, he looked and certainly sounded it, and she was happy with hers. Well, most of the time.

He came back for the case, not for her, and she was fine with that. His inability to hold a meaningful conversation with her was still as frustrating as ever, but she was fine with that too. For years, she'd filled in the blanks for him and got it wrong. She wouldn't be doing it again. If he couldn't find the words, then so be it. She was no mind reader, especially not his. He said she left him speechless, but that wasn't true. That was a cop-out. He just knew she wouldn't like hearing what he had to say and so he didn't say it. He kept quiet. Reverted to form, the closest he got to opening up to her through some lonely whale metaphor.

If the whale was this lonely, she couldn't help thinking, then it should adapt; purposefully seek its mate rather than aimlessly roam the oceans, emitting a call that would never be heard.

She didn't hate him for leaving again. If asked, he'd say he had her best interests at heart, that her life was in Vegas now, and he'd be right. She'd made a good life for herself there. She was just resigned, that was all. Resigned to the way he was, to the status quo. And if she was honest, she'd admit to being disappointed and more than a little angry. Angry at him, but angry at herself for her inability to change and adapt and be the person he needed her to be. It was too late for that. Why should she expect things to be any different now than when they were still married and living under the same roof?

They'd tried, both of them had, but life had a way of pulling them apart.

It had been so good at the start, his turning up so unexpectedly in Costa Rica one of the best days of her life. When he'd been offered the teaching position at the Sorbonne for a year after they'd gotten married, she'd been all up for it. The grant money they'd applied for hadn't come through, wouldn't for the foreseeable future, and the prospect to spend a year in Paris had been very attractive indeed, romantic even, for both. But soon she'd grown bored, unfulfilled and unhappy. There were only so many sights, so many museums, to fill your days. She was no housewife; she simply didn't know how to be one. Hadn't known how to be a good wife to him either.

Work had always been her anchor, her lifeline, and she'd been lost without it, been left to drift aimlessly, while Grissom was busy, happy, unaware, spending long days at the university while she struggled to make a home for them. When the opportunity had arisen, she'd jumped at the chance and come back to Vegas. At first and for a long time, they'd made the marriage work, but then his schedule, her schedule, were hard to synchronise, not to mention the six-hour time difference and expense. Skype calls were missed, conversation curtailed, trips over postponed, until they became less frequent, and then non-existent.

Oh, who was she kidding? Of course, she wasn't fine. The truth was that even after she'd taken the initiative and said goodbye to him, she was still hoping, still wishing he would speak up, say something, find the words to convey what he felt, tell her he was unhappy and missing her. That he was ready to come home. She hated herself for thinking that, for wishing that, for putting her happiness before his, but there it was, the sad truth. It was hard, painful, to stand there and be with him when she couldn't be with him. He was going back to sea, and maybe it was better that way.

And as she sat at her desk now – her new desk, his old desk – she still hoped her goodbye to him wasn't the end. With a sigh, she checked her watch, put her pen down and tiredly rubbed at her eyes. Her first shift as director was coming to an end, and that without any glitches. The transition had been smooth, her team seemingly happy to have her as boss rather than just colleague. The whole thing had been quite mundane really, almost an anti-climax, but she kind of liked it better that way.

She could do this job; she would be good at it. She deserved the promotion, had worked damn hard for it. Emotionally she was stronger than she'd ever been for years. She would put all her effort into her work and keep this lab at the top, just like Grissom and then DB had done before her. Grissom had taught her a lot about the science, but DB had taught her more about people. Thinking back, she couldn't have had two more different mentors, and yet they'd complemented each other perfectly and made her a better, more-rounded CSI.

She picked up her pen again, signed off on a few more documents, then stopped and cast an eye out around the familiar office. It was a still a little bare, but orderly and uncluttered, the way she liked it. She'd removed the few items DB had left behind, but still saw in her mind's eye all of Grissom's stuff laid out on the shelves and hanging from the walls. So much had happened in sixteen years in this office, tears and laughter, arguments and introspections, and now it was hers. She was the boss now, she called the shots. Yes, she was proud of what she'd achieved. And yet she found it hard to rejoice.

"Hey, Sara," Lindsey said, walking in. "Front desk has asked me to deliver this." She held out a padded envelope, and Sara took it, frowning at the name written on it. "It's the videotape of Lady Heather's final interview before Grissom released her."

"Oh, great." She faked a smile, thanked the young CSI, then set the envelope down on the desk and opened a folder, returning to work. As far as she was concerned, the case was closed, and she never need cross paths with Heather Kessler again. There, another contentious issue in itself. She found the woman and her insights infuriating, felt jealous of hers and Grissom's…intellectual connection, or whatever one chose to call it, of the fact that Heather seemed to know him better than she did.

Lindsey made to leave, but then thought better of it. "I―I watched the whole interrogation."

Sara looked up, nodded.

"Huh, I learned a lot. Especially the end. You should watch it." She paused and smiled hesitantly before turning on her heels and leaving the office.

Sara's eyes lowered to the envelope. Frowning, she picked it up, stared at the name on it and turned it over. Should she, she wondered? Should she watch it? Would she learn a lot too? But what could be of interest on it that she didn't already know? No, she'd drop it off to the evidence locker on her way out. A knock on her open door had her look up with a start and discreetly put the envelope face down on the desk. Hodges stood at the threshold, a hesitant smile on his face.

"Is this a good time?" he asked.

"Sure," she said, and remaining seated put her professional smile on, "What can I do for you?"

He shrugged, stepped inside the lab. He was holding something behind his back. "I was just coming to check up on you. Well, not check up on you per se, just check up. You know, see how your first shift at the helm had gone. So how do you enjoy being boss?"

"It was fine, David. Thank you for asking."

Hodges smiled stiffly, nodded his head, then cast his gaze down tentatively. Sara frowned.

"I've brought you something," he said at last, looking back up. "Call it an office warming gift. I mean…" He stopped in his tracks and blew out a breath. "Just tell me if you think it's a bad idea―"

Sara's puzzlement intensified. "David, what is it?"

Hodges let out another breath, cast a look around the office. "I know the office is yours now, and that you probably don't want any reminders of…past supervisors, but…well, she's always belonged here and I thought I should return her." He paused, then produced from behind his back what he'd been holding.

Sara's mouth opened then shut as she stared at the glass jar, before looking up, speechless and aghast.

"It's Miss Piggy," he said, needlessly, and set the glass jar down on the desk next to the padded envelope. "I always considered myself its guardian, you know, after Grissom left? But now I think you should have her."

"I thought it got destroyed," Sara awed.

"It almost did, when DB arrived." Hodges shrugged. "I salvaged it." He smiled then, awkwardly. "Take care of it, will you?"

Touched by Hodges' thoughtfulness, Sara looked up sharply. "I will." Her gaze lowered again to the jar, and she saw Hodges hesitate before he finally turned to leave. "Thanks, David," she called.

He stopped at the door, and when he turned around he had a soft, wistful smile on his lips. "Don't mention it. You are a worthy successor, Sara, and I look forward to having you as my boss."

Hodges' sycophantic nature brought about Sara's first genuine smile since she'd been given the directorship. She gave him a nod, then looked down at the jar again and smiling stroked her hand to the glass. She had enjoyed working alongside Grissom again, more than she cared to admit, and if she was completely honest with herself she'd even go as far as saying that she'd missed it. That she'd missed him.Her love for him was still as strong as it ever was, always would be, but sometimes love is simply not enough.

His ship was sailing away again in two days, and she wouldn't be on it.

And it was better this way.