"You forgot this at the suite." There was a pause of silence as Sophia Curtis extracted a black bowtie from her pocket and dropped it on the table. "I fixed it for you." She exited out of the room, before taking one last look back at Grissom. "You never know when you might need to get dressed up again."

Once she was gone, Catherine—eyebrows raised—reached for the neatly tied bowtie and grasped it in her hands, flicking her finger on it. She turned to Gil.

"She glued it," Catherine said, a hint of an eyeroll evident on her features.

Just then, the phone rang, and Grissom—still slightly surprised from the previous scene—reached to answer it.

"Just remember that she's one of Ecklie's team," Catherine simply reminded him, giving him a knowing look before also standing up and exiting out of the room.

:: ::

"What the hell...?" Catherine asked, fidgeting with a few locks of her hair. She continued to study her appearance in the mirror, never quite satisfied...

Whenever somebody walked into the room, wearing at least a hint of black, she jumped. Her mind was playing tricks on her. And why? She'd been through at least something like this before.

"God damn it!" she screamed. Her fingers moved to the white of her skirt, ruffling it around. She wasn't quite sure what the mediator of her anger was—whether the dress, or him—but it was sure leaving her in a wreck.

"Hey, hey," said a voice. She raised her blue eyes in the mirror, finding Warrick Brown enter the room. His handsome green eyes scanned her and smiled. "What's the matter, Cath?"

"Oh, I don't know," she answerd. Catherine turned around and faced him, a slight smile characterizing her lips in recognition of his attire—a black tuxedo, a red rose pinned on his right pocket. "And don't you look fine?"

"Yeah, who's talking," he said, smiling. "This is the day, Cath— you're day."

"And his day. Where the hell is he?" she asked. "He promised he'd meet me in here for one minute after he..." Her words trailed off. She smirked.

"What?" Warrick asked.

"I'll be right back," was all she said, squeezing his arm as she walked by.

::

"Hey you."

Grissom looked into the mirror, finding his own reflection, before his eyes scanned hers...

For a moment, his breath and voice were caught in his throat at her beauty; that beauty would be his in only a matter of time. If he could only get this damn bowtie...

"Hey," he simply answered.

She was admiring his state of pure handsomeness—his beard and salt and pepper hair recently died to a dark and lush earthly brown. His blue eyes were sparkling with the fact in mind that she would be his, and he would be hers. His black tux said it all; it said how much he loved her, how much he was willing to show her by dressing up in one of the most regretted items. It all fit, his white shirt and red rose pinned up nicely. Well, all but that bowtie...

"Let me help you with that," she chuckled, approaching him and leaning against his back, flush pressed up against him. She took his hands in hers and gently brushed them away. All in her expertise did she loop in, loop out, folding where needed.

The whole time she carefully tied it were his eyes fixed on her.

"You're beautiful when you're concentrating," Grissom told her, leaning down a few times to plant kisses on her hands.

Every time he did this—as pleasurable as it was—she'd bat his wonderful lips away, and tell him, "We're going to be late...do you want to procede with this, or not?" And he'd simply stare at her, smiling the most deepest and carnal smile that belonged to only him, and was given to only her.

Finally she finished, and her fingers tightened it for one last adjustment to perfection. She smiled and looked at him in the mirror, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding him close to her.

"You're all set," she whispered, leaning up to let her lips tickle and taunt the skin of his neck with her warm breath.

He turned around, finding her small waist and wrapping his arms around her. "Remember how I promised you one minute, alone, before it all happened?" he asked.

She nodded. "One minute."

He leaned down, finding her blue eyes entangled in his own, love and an intimate stronghold sparking enough to set the whole building on fire. She could see the sparks, in his eyes, burning up the astute azurity; he found flames in her own eyes. He also found her lips.

They kissed. It was so simple, but yet filled with the deepest passion and sensitivity that either had ever experienced. Their lips met, as if yin and yang had suddenly merged into one simple analogy— an analogy that would last a lifetime...if they hadn't been limited to one minute.

"Hey you two love birds."

Catherine and Grissom parted, finding Nick standing in the doorway. He had his Texas-boy smile priding his face, his chocolate eyes dazzling with happiness for them.

"Time's up. Everyone is waiting for you. Hurry up," Nick joked, tapping on the doorframe and exiting.

Grissom and Catherine turned to each other to hold their gazes for one last moment throughout eternity, before everything would change— before two beings would merge into one.

"Hey, Gil?" Catherine asked.

"Yeah."

"You have a bowtie, especially for these occasions. It's glued for you--why didn't you use it?" she asked.

He smiled then let out a light laugh. "Because, my dear, if I had, we wouldn't have enjoyed this glorious minute together...would we?"

She returned his smile. "Yeah, and I wouldn't have been able to take the honors of tying it for you. She only glued it because she knew she wouldn't always be there for you, when you needed a woman the most."

"You're the only woman I need," he said, leaning down to plant one last kiss on her forehead.

With that, the two made their separate ways.

::

He was standing there, all alone. Well, he wasn't alone. Jim, Nick, Warrick, and Greg stood in a neat arc beside him. But still—he felt alone. She wasn't there yet.

But the music began, and he looked up into those deep, healing eyes of hers. Although a distance away, blue met blue. Her long, white gown trailed behind her, as she made her transition with her arm in Sam Braun's. But never once did their eyes leave each other—never once.

When she was only a few feet before him, she hugged the man that she had finally admitted as her father—who was now a piece of her life; he was the piece she had been avoiding practically all through her grown years.

She approached him. Nancy took her boquet of flowers, with Jacqui, Sara and Lindsey by her side. Little Gracie—a child of their own, and the third love of his life, next to Catherine and Lindsey—spilled out flowers on the velvet carpet. Her blue eyes cringed together in excitement that no one could contain.

Grissom could tell Catherine was nervous. Of course she was nervous. She was marrying the man she'd known for nearly thirty years. The man who'd been there through it all, and loved her, and acted as her safehold, her solitude.

"I love you," he whispered, as they turned to face the priest. Tears were forming in her deep, blue eyes, and he reached over to squeeze her hand. "Two truths are told, as happy prologues to the swelling act of the imperial theme," he said, gently pressing his lips against her ear for a quotation between the two of them.

This made her smile. "Hamlet?" she whispered.

"Nah," he whispered, smiling, "Macbeth."