Disclaimer: Don't own CSI.

Pairing: Grissom/Sara.

Rating: T.

Spoilers: 8x07, Goodbye and Good Luck.

Summary: GSR. Sara-centric. 8x07, Goodbye and Good Luck. The letter.

A/N: Jorja, you will be missed…

The Letter

Author: litbuff

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"Real love stories never have endings." -- Richard Bach

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"Gil -"

Sara stared at the three-letter word she had scripted on the beige stationary for the longest time. Long enough for the waitress of this diner, Joan – her nametag had stated, to arrive with her coffee and salad. Long enough to down that black cup of coffee in two long gulps and take several jabs with her fork against the bed of lush romaine. And long enough to realize that she couldn't do it anymore.

For weeks, she had been running on residual high of having survived one of the worst ordeals in her life. Then came the intoxicating proposal that Grissom had slipped out over a swarming beehive. Experiencing one adrenaline rush after another had not given her the required downtime to recover from her near death experience. Now that the epinephrine no longer flooding her bloodstream in excess amount, she could feel her reality come crashing down full force onto her shoulders and it was suffocating her.

She wanted to talk to him face to face, but somehow, fate had intervened. There never seemed to be the right time to talk. She suspected that perhaps they both were afraid to approach the subject for fear the other wasn't ready. And when she finally worked up the nerve to approach him, she broke down at the last minute because her heart wasn't ready to say goodbye…

She picked up her pen and wrote the next few words from the heart.

"You know I love you. I feel I've loved you forever."

More than forever… if forever was measurable. She had loved him even before she knew his name was Gil Grissom and she knew she would love him for the rest of her life when her name formed on his lips for the very first time after they had met.

And now, she must love him enough to let go of him.

Tears began to pool in the crevasses of her eyes. She lifted her eyes and stared out the window of the diner at the passersby outside. She sighed heavily, feeling so physically drained.

Once the tears were deterred for the moment, she tapped the pen on the table a couple of times before settling for the earnest truths.

"Lately, I haven't been feeling very well. Truth be told, I'm tired."

Lately, the faces of victims like Kaye Shelton, Devon Malton and Svetlana Melton had taken up residence in her thoughts far more often than she'd cared for. Their deaths were senseless and the more they haunted her dreams, the less hope she had for humanity.

And then there were those that survived like Pamela Adler, but with a price.

Sara had never thought of herself as a victim but as days turned into weeks, she was feeling more than empathy for these unfortunate souls; she had made their pains and fears her own. And she was able to witness first hand the effect on their loved ones. Pamela Adler's husband was just ecstatic that she'd lived, and didn't care that she would forever be in a vegetative state. And Sara didn't want Grissom to be Thomas Adler.

Sara had survived physically, but mentally and emotionally, she was dying. She needed time to cure herself and to heal. But to see Grissom's joyous face each day, thankful that she lived, had killed her a bit more. Her biggest fear was one day Grissom would wake up to find her dead, dead to the touch and dead to the love they once shared.

"Out in the desert under the car that night, I realized something - and I haven't been able to shake it. Since my father died I've spent almost my entire life with ghosts. We've been like close friends, and out there in the desert it occurred to me it was time for me to bury them."

To have over three thousand pounds of metal pushing down on her while nearly drowned by the stormy weather had given her a whole new perspective on life. Since the night her mother stabbed her father to death, her life had become stagnant. Memories of her previous life along with that tragic night had followed her through the years, and she wore them like a second set of skin.

Whenever Grissom was near, his love for her was enough to shed that outer layer, enough for her to forget the demons that had penetrated her soul. But like any dermal tissue, new layers would grow to replace the old ones and when Grissom wasn't there to help hinder these cancerous growths, those old memories once again surfaced and pulled her down to the abyss until she was no longer able to see the lights and asphyxiated under the weight of those recollections.

Her eyes turned misty once again at her weakness, her inability to fight those ghosts that were haunting her and the demons that were taunting her.

A runaway drop of tear landed on the corner of her letter and she quickly grabbed a napkin to soak it up.

She was getting tired of being shadowed by her past, always looking over her shoulders to see when they would catch up and constantly worrying if she'd recover from their visits afterward.

With determination, she wrote the next sentence.

"I can't do that here."

To rid of something pestilent, one would need to get to the source. And the root of her problems was not in Vegas. She needed to leave and she needed to leave real soon. She could feel that time was running out on her.

"I'm so sorry."

She was about to add 'If you feel you can't forgive me for doing this, I'd understand…' but too afraid to pen them. Deep down, his love was what keeping her together, the fragile strings that roped her emotions in one neat bundle. To write those words down on paper was to validate their existence, to give them the power to unravel those delicate strands that had kept her in check since the thoughts of pursuing her demons on her own terms had entered her mind.

He deserved more than her apologies but at the moment, those were the only things she could offer him.

Tears began to meander down her cheeks, leaving behind two salty tracks. With trembling hand, she continued writing her letter.

"No matter how hard I try to fight if off, I'm left with the feeling that I have to go. I have no idea where I'm going, but I know I have to do this. If I don't, I'm afraid I'll self-destruct - and worse, you'll be there to see it happen."

Tears were streaming down at a steady pace now.

She felt like a ticking time bomb. The episode in the desert had robbed her of her sleep, and the transfer to swing shift had robbed her of Grissom. She missed working with him and being with him.

She felt alone. Lost. And a lot of time, the anxious feeling of something bad was about to happen but she didn't know when or where or how.

She would go to bed, only to twist and turn, wide awake. Then when the clock signaled a new day, she would just lie there, too tired or have no desire to get up.

Sometimes she would stare out the windows of their townhouse and see the world passing by without her. She wanted to catch up but too paralyzed to move.

Many times, she was tempted to pick up a pack of cigarette and puff the whole thing on one sitting or a bottle of Jack Daniels and just gulp it all down to calm her nerves. The only thing that stopped her was Grissom. Seeing his face was enough to shove those temptations in the closet until they appeared again when he wasn't around.

And at the end of the day, she would put on a happy façade just for him.

Lately that mask was getting heavier to put on and her fear of him seeing her with all her weaknesses had piled on more layers of anxious feelings. And she couldn't seem to shake the cycle.

She knew she needed help. She knew she was sick and she knew she couldn't do it here in Grissom's presence. Call it pride or whatever but she did not want to see the disappointment on his face when she failed herself again, this time miserably.

"Be safe, know that I tried very hard to stay. Know that you are my one and only. I'll miss you with every beat of my heart."

She was openly sobbing, attracting the attention of the very few customers on this night. Joan walked up to her and asked if she was all right and Sara just nodded silently. Joan rubbed Sara's shoulder several times for comfort but Sara just shook her head and tried her best to compose herself. The waitress gave her a sympathetic smile then strolled off with her coffee carafe.

She picked up a napkin to wipe her tears and blew her nose. She stared out the window of the diner once again. Leaving him was getting harder by the second and any doubt she had had about this method of conveying her feelings to him had dissipated.

Writing this letter made her realized that she could never leave him if they just talked. His power over her was just too strong and the physical bond was just impossible to break away. She would miss him with every beat of her heart, with every breath that she'd breathe and with every thought of her consciousness.

"Our life together was the only home I've ever really had. I wouldn't trade it for anything."

Since the day he showed up at her home unannounced, wild-eyed and just wordlessly kissed her at her doorstep, he had become her anchor in the turbulent sea of life and her beacon to guide her home during those dark stormy times. He had provided the stability that she'd never had, and she was forever thankful for those brief moments of happiness. She would keep these memories close to her heart for the long journey she was about to take, knowing they would be the only things to keep her warm at night and fuel her body while she was awake.

Tears threatened to fall again and she lifted her eyes momentarily toward the ceiling then casting them again at the letter.

"I love you. I always will."

She couldn't say this enough when she was with him and she couldn't write it enough now that she was leaving him. She just had to reassure him one more time that she wasn't leaving because of him but for her sanity. Her love for him hadn't changed and never would.

She sat and stared at the letter she had written, contemplating on how to end it. And she wrote the first thing that came to mind.

"Goodbye."

Goodbye… such finality. No, she never wanted that because there would never be finality between her and Grissom. There could never be finality with what she had for him and him alone.

She wanted to write more but she couldn't for fear that she would tear these pages up and go back to their townhouse and continue to wilt away until there wouldn't be anything left of her.

She folded the pages and put them into the envelope and took a deep breath. Another chapter of her life had come to an end as she embarked upon a new one. Granted that next one would be written without the love of her life but when those blank pages had been composed, she would find her way back to him. She always would.

There was no denying what they had in this lifetime – she would leave but with the conviction that fate had brought them together and destiny would bind them forever.