*Epilogue*

 

*Las Vegas*

 

Grissom wasn’t used to receive letters and even less so to receive them in his office. But today was one of those days where surprises happened even to him and for a long time he just sat there and stared at the letter on his desk.

 

He knew the handwriting, had seen it on dozens of evidence tags and reports... There had been a time when he had been more familiar with the handwriting than the man who wrote the short sentences on the tags. Not anymore though, he had gotten to know Nick Stokes surprisingly well over the last five months.

 

They had become friends.

 

Grissom was still surprised about that.

 

Gently and almost warily he lifted the envelope and opened it. The fact that Nick wrote him surprised him and he was even more surprised when he realized the length of the letter. Shaking his head he stared at it as if to determine what to do with it, then though he smiled at his own behavior and unfolded the sheet of paper.

 

Dear Grissom,

 

It still feels weird to call you Gil, so sorry should I slip during this letter. I guess you wonder why I even write you one, instead of just calling as I usually do. I don’t really know why, but the last couple of days have taken a toll and I feel like I need time to express what I experienced and I wouldn’t have that time on the phone.

 

Don’t worry, I’m fine... maybe I’m even better than fine, but only time will tell...

 

Did you ever know why I really left? I was never sure, you seem so aloof and yet I always had the feeling that you knew a lot more about the things that went on in the lab than you let on. I bet you still pretend not to understand what Sara wants from you. Not that I blame you, but this letter isn’t about you... It’s me trying to explain something, although I don’t really know what.

 

I left because of Warrick, you knew that didn’t you? That’s why you never tried to hold me back, wasn’t it? Anyway, it hurt to leave, hurt to leave the lab, the people, the city, you, but most of all it hurt because I felt as if I had left before I was supposed to leave.

 

Most of the time I just felt like a coward for running instead of staying and fighting and believe me when I met Danny here in New York that feeling only got stronger. I told Mac once that if I had stayed in Las Vegas I would have been surviving for the rest of my life and that I didn’t want that, that I wanted to live.

 

It was just a sentence, but it’s the truth and it happened.

 

I am living again.

 

I am happy.

 

Last time we talked, you asked if I had intentions to come and visit. I don’t know Gil, I am not sure if I am strong enough yet. If Don is with me, then yes, but alone?

 

It’s funny isn’t it how I told you about Don, but never about Warrick?

 

He called me you know, told me that he wants to come to New York and meet me, that we need to catch up and that he misses me.

 

Don heard the message and we fought. We’re fine again, or no we’re great. Warrick will come up in February for a long weekend. Don told me to invite him, I don’t think I would have. He’s right though, I need to see him to get some closure.

 

And that’s probably what I wanted to tell you, why I write this letter. I have found closure and peace. I still wake up and have nightmares, but I know that when I wake up I will be in Don’s arms, and I know that I made it out and I managed to go on.

 

It’s more than I expected.

 

It’s closure.

 

Did you ever find closure?

 

I know you once told me that you don’t take your cases home, but I wasn’t just a case and sometimes when we talk, I can hear it in your voice. I worry Gil, I worry about you.

 

I found a poem yesterday night when I checked the note book of a girl. It’s a case, so I won’t go into details, but she had copied a poem of W.H. Auden and it made me think.

 

‘Behind the corpse in the reservoir, behind the ghosts on the links

Behind the lady who dances and the man who madly drinks

Under the look of fatigue, the attack of migraine and the sigh

There always another story, there more than meets the eye’

 

I’m sure you know the poem, but doesn’t it feel as if Auden had not only described our jobs, but also our lives?

 

I never realized how much I was hiding until I was near to dying, never understood how many masks I was wearing until Danny and Don saw through them.

 

How many masks are you wearing to protect yourself?

 

How many were added that night?

 

I won’t pry Gil, I just want to tell you that I am here, and I have finally found the strength to listen. Finally found enough closure to help you with yours.

 

And the last thing I wanted to say is thanks, thanks for finding me, thanks for giving me another chance and thanks for letting me go.

 

I’ll call you,

 

Nick

 

Grissom stared at the letter for a long time until a knock jolted him out of his thoughts. Catherine stood in the door and looked at him concerned.

 

“Are you alright Gil?”

 

Swallowing the lump in his throat he nodded and pointed towards the letter.

 

“From Nicky”

 

Concern lit up in her eyes and she reached for the paper, but he shook his head and picked the letter up before she could.

 

“He is fine; I think he has found closure.”

 

Catherine looked at him and then slowly said.

 

“But he won’t come back.”

 

Her voice carried the same sadness as Gil felt in his heart, he knew that the hope that Nick might come back had been foolish and still it had been there. Glancing at the letter he read one sentence again.

 

‘I am living again.

 

I am happy.’

 

“No”

 

THE END