Sources

Chapter 40

He arrived at two-thirty. Not so early that the chapel would be empty, and not so late as to run into members of the wedding party. He wore a dark suit. A nondescript tie and a bored expression completed the look. Nothing to make him stand out. In fact, the only thing that could possibly draw anyone's interest was a small newspaper clipping, clenched tightly in his fist.

Still, he was pretty sure that the tall black man was looking at him funny, like he was trying to place his face. It was better to stay in the back of the chapel, pretending to read the program. Soon enough, a middle-aged man with a beard walked in, and the black man was distracted as they took their place at the front of the room.

He stared with interest at the bearded man. So this was Gil Grissom. Older than he'd expected, certainly. But he had an air of authority, of intelligence. And Sara Sidle had always had a thing for brains.

A few last-minute arrivals hurried to take their seats as the organ started up with a soft rendition of Pachelbel's Canon in D. He slipped into the back row, his heart pounding. The black man was watching him again, leaning toward Grissom as if to say something, then reconsidering.

"Look, those are their mothers," the woman next to him whispered to her date. And there, indeed, was Laura Sidle, nervously clutching the arm of a young guy with spiky hair.

His hands were trembling as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small white pill, swallowing it dry. She looked the same, only not. More tired, maybe.

A procession of blondes in pink dresses passed by. First came a bashful teenaged girl, followed by a strutting woman in her forties. Then a beaming young woman who looked vaguely familiar, and then - he drew in a sharp breath - then came Sara.

Sander had wondered if he would recognize her. It had been years, after all, and he'd certainly looked different back then. But there were those big brown eyes, and the gap-toothed grin that had forced him to call her Beaver when they were kids. She was glowing, and the tears glistening in her eyes were from joy. He was surprised to find that his own cheeks were wet.

When they reached the front of the room, the question was posed: "Who gives this woman in marriage?"

"I do," declared her escort proudly, and another tear slipped down Sander's cheek. Guilt and regret had become a way of life for him. Today was no different.

"Kleenex?" The woman next to him held out a tissue, and he took it self-consciously. She offered a smile. "Bride or groom?"

"Oh, uh. I went to college with Sara," he said lamely, hoping she wouldn't call him on his bluff. "You?"

"I work with both of them at the lab," she whispered. "I'm Judy."

"I'm. Joe."

"Nice to meet you."

They turned back to the service, watching the minister read aloud. "What's with the sign language translator?" Sander asked, pointing to a man standing near the altar.

"Warrick told me that Grissom's mom is deaf. I guess they didn't want her to miss anything."

"Warrick?"

"The best man," she said, pointing at the man who was still glancing his way every so often.

Sander nodded, then realized his opportunity. "So, you know them both. do you think this Grissom guy is good for Sara?"

"Oh yeah," Judy said, nodding emphatically. "Grissom and Sara were the great unrequited love story of the office. They danced around each other for years. Very Sam and Diane. Ross and Rachel. Ed and Carol. Mulder and Scully. Luke and Lorelai. Josh and-"

"I get it," he interrupted, smirking.

"So then they started dating, and it was like night and day. Suddenly Grissom had this great sense of humor, and Sara smiled all the time. they were so much happier together than apart. I think they balance each other well."

He looked up at the altar, seeing what Judy meant. Sara had been a fairly cheerful kid, always reading or doing experiments. He remembered her face after finishing Moby Dick, and after figuring out how to make green bubbling goo. Those expressions, blindingly ecstatic, were nothing compared to now. She was clutching Grissom's hand tightly as they gazed at each other in rapture, seemingly oblivious to the minister.

"That's my cousin," Judy whispered.

"Who, Grissom?"

"Reverend Bruffy. I recommended him."

"Oh. He's good," Sander said absently.

"I helped write his sermon. He's getting to the good part, listen."

"Gil, Sara, you spend every day searching for the truth," Reverend Bruffy proclaimed. "With great determination, you investigate, sometimes down to the microscopic level. A hair, a fingerprint, a skin cell. when a person has been somewhere, touched something, you know they've left part of themselves behind. Just as surely, when two people love each other truly and without judgment, they leave indelible marks on each other's souls. No matter where you go, you will always carry a part of each other with you."

Judy sniffled loudly, prompting her date to hand her another tissue from the box. "I'm a sucker for my own schmaltz," she admitted.

Sander just chuckled in response, feeling a weight lift from his chest as he watched Sara and Grissom say "I do" in turn. She didn't want to see him now, but maybe someday she'd change her mind. Maybe he'd even get the chance to be an uncle, mailing birthday packages of dolls and baseball mitts and chemistry sets. He sighed deeply as his sister and her new husband started down the aisle.

Sara glanced over the crowd of people as they passed row after row. There was Doc Robbins and his wife, waving. Hodges, looking at her dress appraisingly. Ecklie, giving her a surprisingly warm smile. Her eyes went back further, and she hesitated, stopping halfway down the aisle.

"Honey?"

She turned at the sound of Grissom's voice, meeting his bewildered look. "Griss, look over in the right corner. Who do you see?"

He craned his neck. "Judy and Detective Vartann. Why?"

"Oh," Sara said, looking again and realizing he was right. "I. thought I saw someone else."

"Who?"

She shrugged self-consciously. "My dad."

He squeezed her hand and they continued down the aisle. Outside, Sander pulled out of the parking lot, wearing the first real smile to grace his lips in years.

By nine, everyone had gathered back at Grissom's townhouse. Everyone that mattered, anyway. Brass, Greg, and Warrick had squeezed onto the couch, while Catherine was sprawled out on the armchair.

"That was one hell of a reception," Catherine said, draining her beer bottle and reaching for another. "I sure know how to plan 'em. Mandy too, of course. Joint effort."

Mandy didn't respond. She'd fallen asleep on the floor, leaning up against Nick's side.

"We appreciate how you all helped us out with organizing this wedding," Grissom said from the rug, where Sara was nestled in his arms. "God knows we weren't going to do anything."

"We should play a drinking game," Sara said sleepily. "Like Spin the Bottle."

"Married six hours and she's already looking to kiss other men," smirked Brass. "You better watch this one, Gil." Grissom just held her tighter.

Greg snorted to himself. They all turned to look at him, as he tried in vain to hold in his amusement. "I... I just realized..." he lost it then, bending over and laughing until his face was a dark shade of purple. Finally he pointed at Sara, barely able to get the words out. "Mrs. Mrs. Grissom!"

Sara had been taking a swig of beer as he said it, and she promptly sprayed their guests with a fine mist. Grissom stared at her, bewildered as she started howling with laughter. "Mrs. Grissom!" she repeated over and over.

The rest of them joined in, giggling in hysterics.

Grissom squinted in disbelief. "This never occurred to any of you before now?"

Greg just replied, "Sara Grissom!" That only seemed to set them off further. Nick choked on his beer, coughing heavily.

"Keep it down, guys," Catherine said between giggles. "You're gonna wake the kid."

"I'm already up," Mandy grumbled.

"I meant Lindsey. And speaking of which," Catherine added, turning to Grissom and Sara, "I find it a little disturbing that on your wedding night, you're drinking with us and letting a thirteen-year-old take your bed. You should be in there screwing like bunnies. It's your god-given right."

Sara blinked at her. "Well, okay, but can you take Lindsey off the bed first?"

"Dude, gross," Nick gagged. "Spare us, Mrs. Grissom."

"I'm serious, you two," Catherine said, waggling her finger at them. "You should be honeymooning right now. why are you even here?"

Interlocking his fingers with Sara's, Grissom smiled. "When a man is encircled by his friends, and his arms encircle the woman he loves, only then has he found true contentment."

"Cite your source," called Warrick.

Grissom just shook his head, kissing Sara's cheek. "Life experience."

The End

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