I do not, in any way, shape, or form own CSI, nor do I own the idea of Sara and Grissom getting together, however, there are a few thoughts in this particular story are mine ;) But please, no suing for what isn't mine, or what is mine, please.

Dashing through the snow, in a one horse open sle…

The song was cut off as the brunette hit the power button to the Tahoe's stereo. A scowl quickly etched itself across her face as she pulled into the labs parking garage, and eventually into stall fourty-four.

The closing of the Tahoe's door echoed in the all but vacant lot. Only swing shifts vehicles were present, and Ecklie's, but Sara Sidle suspected that he'd be leaving shortly; lately he'd taken off not long after her arrival. She suspected Grissom had ticked him off, again.

Sidle shrugged slightly and made the trek into the lab. She went straight to the locker room, where she dropped her leather coat and grabbed a sweater jacket that had seen more than its fair share of rough days. Grabbing an elastic off the shelf she slipped around her wrist, just in case she needed it later. Once suitably attired for lab work she headed went straight to the evidence room.

She had hardly been home for three hours, long enough to grab a shower and get a bit of reading done before she was on her way back. The current case was taking a toll on her, as could be attested by the dark circles under her eyes, covered by her rarely used foundation. Her skin had a slightly more porcelain look to it than it usually did, partially due to the foundation, partially due to the fact that she was probably coming down with something. She hadn't slept in close to two full days now; she hadn't eaten in almost as long.

The current case consisted of three bodies, two twin infants, age currently undetermined, and their young mother, somewhere between the ages of twenty and twenty-five. The trio had been buried together in a relatively shallow grave, only a few feet deep, near their home. They hadn't been dead for more than two days when they were found. It was almost a clear-cut case, but the burden of proof, enough proof, still rested on the crime lab.

The husband was the prime suspect; the twins father was a secondary suspect. The mother, Jessica Sanchez, had an affair, it seemed, almost a year earlier, about nine months before the birth of Michael and Michayla Sanchez. A few months later, mother and children were dead.

Adam Sanchez was the obvious suspect. His wife had cheated on him, resulting in the twin progeny's. There was also Luca Caytrit, a co-worker of Mrs. Sanchez's. His only motives, at the moment, were that she had neglected to tell him about the twins, and that she'd cut off their relationship a few months into her pregnancy, neither would stand up in court without further evidence to back it up.

Just thinking about it made Sara's stomach contents churn, especially when combined with the marks of abuse around Jessica's neck, wrists and ankles, there was also evidence of sexual abuse. She had put up a fight, likely trying to defend her children.

She looked at the pictures taken at the scene, as well as the evidence. "We'll solve this, put him behind bars," she whispered, "I promise, Jessica, I promise."

However, a yawn forced its way out of her mouth, causing her to make a quick and quiet trek over to the break room, where she brewed herself a pot of coffee. She closed her eyes as she inhaled the scent, quickly discovering that that wasn't a good idea. As soon as she closed her eyes, her mind dulled and she grew dizzy, her brain was telling her body to sleep.

She didn't listen. Instead the CSI grabbed her mug and filled it up. Coffee in hand she returned to the lab, intent on finishing this case tonight. She didn't want her co-workers to have to work on Christmas Eve, that, and she wanted to Jessica and her children to be able to rest in peace.