A/N: This is a long one to conclude this last installment in "A Few Days" series! We hope you enjoyed it, leave us a note. And we thank our granma who suggested some of this and always believed in Sara and Gil!

A Few Days at a Time Chapter 23 and Epilogue

Grissom had not forgotten the implied promise made months ago. Sara often pointed to a furry four-legged pet saying "that one looks like us." But a new house, adjusting to each other, work, and the sudden death of his mother postponed the actual completion of that promise. He expressed guilt after burying his mother and clearing her house.

"We did not visit enough, Sara. We should see your mother more than once a year." His hands touched her shoulders as she turned her face to his.

She straightened her back, breathed deeply, and blinked—not wanting him to see how near she was to tears. Of course, he knew. As she turned, a knuckle gently touched wet eye lashes and he pulled her into his arms.

"Your mom knew you were happy." They remained in each others arms for many minutes before she spoke again. "I've missed you."

"Come."

Sara protested as he bent to remove her boots. She protested again as he stopped her hands and pressed her against the bed.

"Stay." He disappeared for a minute, returning with several large bath towels warmed by the heated rack he had insisted on installing in their bathroom; another one wrapped around his waist. Each piece of her clothing was removed as he covered her with a towel. There was no reason to speak. His hands moved across her shoulders, down her arms, and between her fingers. Tension and weariness lifted; Sara smiled as his hands moved to her legs.

"I need you," she said.

He twisted his finger. "Not yet. Rollover."

She rolled. His hands slowly moved to her knees, his thumbs pressing lightly against her skin until his hands rested at her hips. Using a thumb he made small circles across her belly, slowly moving downward until he reached that intimate place he sought. His hand never faltered as his eyes met hers when she made a quiet sound.

Finally, he spoke. "You are always with me, Sara." He stretched beside her, resting his head on one hand, pulling her hips against his. He whispered "You are here." He took her hand and placed it on his chest above his heart. Another shift in bodies and they were together, joined in rhythmic waves of passion, her hands searching for him as he did the same.

Some time later, they lay tangled in each others limbs, wakeful, rested and comforted.

He finally spoke of his mother. "She had a good life, Sara. Few regrets, friends who were there, a priest she had known for years."

"I'm sorry I was not there. I should have come."

Grissom shook his head. "No—not necessary. You were here when I got the call." He kissed her. "She had planned well." He moved to keep her within his arms. "However, all this made me remember a promise made months ago. Do you remember?"

She shook her head, "One to me?"

"Today—we are going to the park. I think its time I made good on that promise."

Sara was quiet—she remembered—rising up to face him, said, "Are you sure about this?"

"Yeah."

They drove to a large city park where signs announced a shelter dog adoption day, temporary fencing had been set up to hold dozens of dogs—small, large, recognizable breeds, mutts, barking and quiet dogs. They walked around looking at pretty dogs, small puppies, short hair, long hair, playful and serious, all vying for attention.

"How will we know the right one?" Sara asked.

Grissom looked at her, raising one eyebrow, a smile forming. "Should we let one pick us?"

She grinned. They filled out forms, made a donation, and moved with the crowd watching as others selected a pet. Another hour passed as they eliminated a few as to small or too loud or because the dog looked like someone. In the end, Grissom made the decision, or later, they decided the dog had made the decision. Grissom sat on the grass watching Sara as she asked questions, picking up one dog then another, when a brown puppy appeared several feet from his elbow. Big brown eyes looked at him as the dog's tail thumped the grass.

He waited as the puppy watched him—tail wagging but hesitant to approach. Sara watched, amazed that a puppy could show such will power to wait. When Grissom spoke, the puppy raised a paw and shook his head, but did not move closer. Grissom stretched out his hand and the paw rested in his palm.

"Sara—I think this is the one!" He waved her over. The dog took a step closer. "Hey, buddy, you got a name?"

Sara watched the interaction. Each time Grissom spoke, the puppy moved closer.

A young man approached. "This one is the last boxer. We had five this morning. If you're interested, the mother is at our shelter. She's a good dog." He extended his hand and gave his name to Sara and Grissom.

Sara asked the age of the puppy and several other questions. "Does he have a name?" She asked.

"Yeah. He's the runt so we gave him a strong name—Hank."

Grissom's eyes shot to her and at the same instant, both laughed.

"I guess we can change that, right?"

The boy looked confused but agreed. "It's pretty easy. Just start calling him something else. In a few days, he'll get use to a new name."

They took the puppy home and called him Bruno. It did not work; Hank knew his name and ignored all attempts at change.

"Beats anything I've ever seen," Grissom said with a laugh. He called the puppy. "Bruno, ready to walk?" The dog stayed on the floor, eyes followed Grissom. In the same voice, he said "Hank, ready to walk?" The dog met him at the door.

Hank kept his name.

…It was a peaceful, comfortable life together…

"Do I really make you happy?" Sara asked her question remembering his comment from several days before. He surprised her with his response to a question about paying for sex.

They were resting after an afternoon's romp with Hank. Years before they had found this place—public land seldom visited making a very isolated spot for the two lovers who continued to keep their personal lives separate and private from their co-workers. As Hank grew, they brought him here to run and roll and generally be a free dog. Today, they had played until all three needed rest. Grissom had stretched across an old blanket, one hand in Sara's, the other on his dog.

For several minutes, he gave no response to her question. His fingers laced with hers before he spoke.

"For most of my life, I avoided attachments that might lead to any commitment of emotions. I managed to keep anyone who approached me at a distance—looking back I know it was selfish on my part. Yet, from the first day we met, I knew—I knew you were different.

"When you moved to Vegas, I thought I could be no happier. I was wrong. The day we moved into our home, I felt that was the happiest day of my life, but it wasn't." He brought her hand to his lips. "I know every day I spend with you is the happiest."

His unexpected and long answer left Sara speechless. He raised his head to look at her and saw tears had pooled in her eyes.

"Are you okay?" He asked as his thumb wiped a trail of moisture.

"I'm happy, Gil. I could not imagine this life a few years ago."

The dog lifted his head to watch as Grissom wrapped arms around her.

…Time and events changes lives, and Sara and Grissom were not immune to what happened to them and to those dear-- neither could know or would have believed possible…

Grissom pulled his car off the highway and looked to the east watching the sun rise. He often thought this was the only time when the sun was brighter than the artificial lights of this city. In the past weeks, his mind and energies had been on tracking a serial killer; he had little time to contemplate what was going on around him.

Like so many, this one would leave memories of strangers who converged to become a face, a voice, a clue. His team had compiled evidence, worked theories, used their brains and experiences to bring closure. He backtracked his thoughts—not his team. He smiled.

He could not bring back the past, but so much would remain with him. Catherine, Nick, Greg, Warrick, and, of course, Sara, how they had affected him, inspired him without knowing it. Their passion for right, truth, and justice kept him going.

The sun cleared the distant mountains, coloring Las Vegas in orange and gold. He had said his goodbyes to everyone; briefly, hands were shaken, a few women gave him hugs and he was gone.

Now, he was anxious to get home. Hank expected him. He opened the door to find early morning light filling the area. He had always been happy with the arrangement of this open area—Sara's idea, he remembered. The chair moved slightly.

She got up and walked towards him, a broad smile across her face. Moving into his arms, she said, "I thought you might like company."

…A perfect spring day, like so many others…

The simple service was over and guests were moving to tables set up underneath a white tent. The bride and groom were surrounded by a dozen people chattering and calling words of congratulations—to the couple and to each other. Before the service, waiting in the sunshine, people had introduced themselves, welcomed by a tall woman who served as unofficial greeter to arriving strangers. Sister Deborah introduced the mother of the bride to the large group from Las Vegas. Greg and Nick stood in open-mouth silence as they recognized Laura Sidle as an older version of her daughter. They were also greeted by Hank, who seemed to know his place as he followed one of the women to chairs set up under a large tree.

The service was short and not traditional—no guest expected it to be. Sara Sidle and Gil Grissom walked from the house hand-in-hand to the front of those gathered. The only music was that of birds in trees and a rustle of wind in leaves in the trees. A scent of fruit lingered lightly on the noses of guests. Sara's mother, Catherine, Nick, Greg, and Jim were given seats on the front row. A rose had been placed in an empty chair.

The bride, wearing a simple cream-colored dress, made most of those present catch their breath and a few blinked back tears seeing her composed and solitary beauty. In front of their guests, standing underneath a large tree with a simple swing as the back drop, the couple turned to face the group. The civil officiate stood to one side and said a few words, asked appropriate questions, Sara and Grissom responded, exchanged plain gold bands and were announced as husband and wife.

Catherine and Jim Brass watched as others crowded around the couple. "I never thought I'd see this day," he said. His hand had already wiped his eyes at least twice.

"Oh—come on, Jim. We've known Gil for years—always the straight arrow. You knew he would talk her into this!" She nudged him with an elbow. "Let's go eat cake."

The End to A Few Days Series! Thanks for reading. Leave us a review/comment!