Author's Notes: Not my characters, blah blah blah. Rated PG for some language and possible adult themes...don't worry, not offensive stuff. I don't care if you archive elsewhere, but please put a link back to http/ if you don't mind.

Spoilers: Nothing specific, but it is set sometime soon after No Humans Involved (I think that was season 6),and does eventually have a brief reference to it. But if you haven't seen that episode, it's no big deal. Also, in chapter 7 there are references to Stalker (season 1), and if you haven't seen that episode, then the scene might not make quite as much sense. But again, it's okay if you missed that totally awesome episode.

CHAPTER 1 – An Innocent Talk

"You've lost it."

"Excuse me?" she glanced up from her forensic journal. "Lost what?"

Brass leaned casually against the doorframe of the break room. To Sara, he looked suddenly weary and run down.

He didn't answer right away. Sara glared at him and articulated slowly, "Lost what?"

He moved to sit on the sofa opposite Sara. Brass thought a moment before answering. He carefully folded his hands in front of him and pointedly avoided looking directly at her, staring instead at his own hands. She's not going to make this easy, he thought to himself. But then, I wasn't expecting her to.

"You've lost your passion," he said quietly.

Setting her reading down, she began to absent-mindedly straighten up the coffee table magazines. "No, Jim, I'm just less emotional than I used to be," she said, "I'm a CSI and I'm trained not to get emotionally involved with my cases," she paused to look up at him before continuing. "It clouds the judgment."

Her answer was cool, calm and rehearsed. Brass didn't buy it for a second. He lifted his eyes to meet hers and they sat there for a long drawn out moment; an unspoken staring contest. He considered his next move, and decided it didn't matter what he said now, she'd be ticked, so he might as well say what he wanted.

"Sara, I've known you for almost five years now. Is that about right?"

She stared blankly at him. "Yeah, that sounds about right."

"We've seen a lot of stuff happen, worked some bizarre cases together," Jim stated, matter-of-factly, as though he were merely recounting their history together.

Her eyes narrow at him. He knew she was becoming suspicious of the conversation. He was prepared for that. As long as she doesn't storm out, he was prepared for her anger, suspicion, resentment, and even denial. Well, at least he thought he was prepared.

"You always showed great empathy for victims. You were passionate about your job," he paused, wanting to get it right. "More than that, you were passionate about justice."

He took another pause, expecting her to say something, but she sat silently. Well, that's a first, he thought..

"Now, I think you're just doing your job."

Sara stared right through him. "We're all just doing our jobs, Jim," she retorted. "I really don't see your point," realizing as she's saying it that it sounded more harsh than she meant it to.

He raised his hands in front of him. "Don't shoot me before I get to my point," he grinned to show her he's not afraid, that her tough act didn't scare him.

Sara settled back into the sofa and put her feet up on the coffee table. She made a gesture with her hand that he took to mean she wanted him to get on with it.

"Okay," he started again, taking a deep breath, "okay, my point is just this…one of the best things you had going for you when you started here was your passion for the work…" he stopped again, thinking maybe that wasn't exactly what he wanted to say, "…your passion for the truth."

She sat quietly. She was going to let him finish his babble, and then she was going back to the lab where she could be alone.

"But now," he paused, "now you show up, you do your job, you leave." He took a deep breathe before continuing again. "I'm just saying that it looks to me like you've lost the best thing you had…"

From where he sat he could hear her teeth begin to grind. He looked back at his hands. If looks could kill… and he was thankful that they couldn't.

"Your passion. I think you've lost your passion."

There, I've said it, now she'll rant and deny, but I've said it and as a friend, that counts for something.

Sara stood slowly and stepped towards the door. Her face like stone, she looked out at the hallway as she answered, not daring to look back at Brass. "I really have no idea what you mean, Brass."

She walked briskly out, leaving him alone.

After a long moment, Brass sighed. "Well, that went well," he said, to no one in particular.

"Do you always talk to yourself, Jim, or do you have eyes in the back of your head?"

Brass turned to see Nick Stokes in the door, coffee mug in hand, puzzled look on his face. Brass stood, and, straightening his jacket, mumbled, "Just, um, thinking out loud," and headed through the door and back to work.

Nick stared after him. Brass barreled past Warrick Brown in the hall, appearing not to see him. As Warrick walked up to the break room, they both watched as Brass disappeared around a corner.

Nick slowly shook his head. "You know, I used to think that guy was pretty normal. Maybe Grissom is starting to rub off on him?" he mused, considering Brass's friendship with 'gruesome Grissom.'

Warrick shrugged. "This job'll make anybody weird after a while. Even 'hardboiled' Jim Brass."

Nick considered this for a moment, smiled, nodded, and headed to pour himself some coffee.

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Catherine Willows stuck her head into Gil Grissom's office. Seeing Grissom bent over a small box with something that appeared to be alive, she stepped inside.

"What the hell did you say to her this time?" Catherine demanded, folding her arms in front of her.

Without looking up from the contents of the box, Gil's face became clouded with confusion.

"What did I say to whom?"

"That's what I'm asking, Grissom! What did you say to Sara? She's holed herself up with a stack of fingerprints and won't talk to anyone with more than one word answers. I'd rather have her mad and stomping around than sullen and withdrawn," she paused to take a deep breath, then continued before Grissom could cut in. "At least mad and stomping I knew she still cared about something in the world, but this…" she gestured wildly in exasperation, her voice rising, "this is too much! Whatever you said, go apologize to her!"

Grissom stared at her, waiting to be sure she was finished. Her arms folded again, her face flushed, and he could swear, although he couldn't see for certain, that she was tapping one foot.

"I haven't seen Sara this shift. If something is bothering her, I'm sure I don't know what it is," he said definitively, and returned to observing the contents of his box.

Catherine's hands balled into fists as she slammed them into her thighs. She turned and stormed down the hall, several lab techs dodging out of her path. "Ugh! If I were her, I'd be mad too!" she mumbled as she left.

From the end of the hall she heard Grissom standing at his door. "I heard that," he said flatly.

Red faced, she turned back and looked right at him. Eyes narrowed and teeth clenched, she yelled "Good!" and stormed away.

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Grissom watched Catherine turn the corner, wondering what exactly he had done to make her so angry. He rubbed the bridge of his nose momentarily and then turned to go back to his box.

"Erm, Gris?" said a hesitant voice behind him.

He turned to see Brass standing in the hallway behind him. "What can I do for you, Jim?" he asked as he hovered over his newest bug.

Brass slowly entered the office, shuffling his feet in embarrassment. "I heard that little discussion you and Cath just had."

"She seems to think I've done something to irritate Sara," Grissom replied, without looking up.

"Yeah, about that…"Brass began, "I think maybe this time I'm the cause of Sara's dark cloud."

Grissom, his curiosity aroused, looked up at his long time friend and with a raised eyebrow asked, "Is that so? And just how did you accomplish that?"

Brass grinned mischievously, trying not to blush under his friends gaze. "It's not like that, Gris."

"Not like what, Jim? I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"Look, I just tried to have a little sit-down with her, and I don't think she wanted to talk."

Gil looked intently at his friend. "That's all? That doesn't sound like something that would make her mad."

"Well," Brass thought for a second, "maybe she didn't like what I said. I dunno."

"Jim, whatever it is, you'd better fix this. Catherine thinks it's my fault, and I don't need to be on her bad side right now."

"It sure was fun seeing her all riled up like that, though," Jim mused, as he turned to leave.

Grissom chuckled and called after him, "It was only fun for you because you weren't at the business end of it."

"True, true," Brass said quietly as he walked away down the hall.

"Talking to yourself again, Brass?"

This time Nick was standing in the door to the DNA lab, coffee mug still in hand.

"You got nothin' better to do, Stokes, than eavesdrop on me?" Brass queried gruffly as he stalked back to his own office. I don't need to be riled right now. I need to figure out how to talk to Sara.

Nick shook his head and went back to his work. "Weirder and weirder," he said to Warrick, who was sitting in the room behind him. "I'm not so sure Grissom hasn't rubbed off on him more than just a little."

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"Hey, Sugar, got a sec?" Brass tapped lightly on the doorframe, not wanting to startle Sara. She looked engrossed in something, her head bent over a magnifier on the table. He could see her visibly tense at the sound of his voice. If I had thought this would be easy, I was dreaming.

Not looking up, Sara snapped, "Not really."

Brass gathered his fortitude and moved out of the hall into the small room. It was dark, and the desk lamp beside Sara was only just bright enough to light her work, and her face. He placed both his hands on the table directly in front of her and leaned toward her. He didn't want to be overheard again, but he wanted to be sure Sara was listening.

Mustering all his courage, in his softest apologetic voice he said, "About earlier, I wanted to…"

Sara's head jerked up. "What about earlier? There's nothing to say," she snapped, practically stabbing him with her eyes.

Brass paused, taking a deep breath. This conversation had already gone wrong once this shift, and he didn't want it to end the same way this time.

Looking her directly in the eyes now, he continued quietly, "I miss you."

He waited patiently as her face slowly softened, the anger draining. He could see that now she was curious, she wanted to know where this was going. He knew she was still tense, guard up, but she was at least listening.

Softly, almost whispering, Brass went on. "I miss hearing you laugh from down the hall. I miss seeing you smile when you say hello." He moved slowly around the table to stand beside her, taking the extra time to carefully arrange his next words.

"I miss seeing you absorbed by evidence that sparked something intense and beautiful inside your mind."

Sara's defenses began to thin. She had been so withdrawn, so removed from everything, but she hadn't realized that anyone had actually noticed. Of all the people she worked with, though, Jim had been the last one she would have thought was paying that much attention.

Brass slowly reached up a hand and touched her cheek lightly with his thumb. "What I really meant to say earlier, what I really want to say now," he paused, lowering his voice so that even if there were someone else in the room, only Sara would hear what he was about to say.

"I miss watching you living. I don't like watching you dying," he whispered as he tenderly brushed hair from her face. "You've been my friend through a lot of stuff, and now I'm going to be yours. I miss you, and I'm willing to do whatever it takes to bring you back to life."

Not waiting for her response, he gently drew her closer and leaned down to kiss her lightly on the forehead, taking a slow breath as his lips touched her skin. Without looking at her again, he turned and quietly left the room, leaving Sara to her own thoughts.

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Catherine practically stomped through Grissom's door, not bothering to knock this time. Seething with indignation, her voice filled with venom, she barked at him, "What did you say this time!"

Grissom looked up, obviously confused again. "Jim said he'd fix it…"

"Now she's crying! The door to the lab is locked, and she's at the desk with her head in her hands, sobbing! You insensitive bastard, what did you say!"

She took a short breath, and appearing to hear Grissom's words on delay she replied shortly, "And Jim is not here to fix all your screw-ups!"

Gil was about to reply that it wasn't his fault, but Catherine had already turned and stormed out before he had a chance.

"Jim owes me big for this," he said to himself before turning back to his desk.

"Talking to yourself, Gris?" Nick asked jokingly from the doorway, but seeing his boss's sour look Nick's own smile faded. "Here's those results from DNA you said you wanted. I brought them as soon as they came off the printer." He waved some papers in front of Gil before setting them on the desk.

Distractedly, Gil waved a hand in the air. "Yeah, thanks, Nicky." Sitting down, he didn't even look at the DNA results that he had hounded Nick about earlier.

Nick watched him for a moment and then turned to quietly slip out. Yep, it's for sure. Weirder and weirder.

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Continued in Chapter 2

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