A/N: We finished our series and left out one significant event in the Las Vegas lives of our two favorite characters. We had it written, but our best reviewer said "not before Christmas" because this one is filled with angst, sadness, and depressing events. So—here it is in 2009! What a way to start a new year!

We do not own CSI, or CBS or these characters--we don't own much at all.

A Few Days of Change Chapter 1

Sara sat in her car unable to press the "Start" button. She had left, leaving only a letter, riding in a taxi to the only home she could remember. Now, she leaned her head against the wheel—if she could sleep for only a short time—it would help her know what to do next. Sleep, she thought, had not come easily to her in days—weeks. She could not remember the last time she slept for more than a few hours. Exhaustion crept up her spine, across her shoulders, her eyes closed. The quiet garage, complete silence engulfed her brain as her hand fell away from the wheel and she finally slept.

Grissom read her letter three times before he moved. He opened his phone and pressed one. No answer as it rolled to voice mail. He pressed another number; no answer. He retraced his steps to the front desk.

"Judy, did you notice how Sara left?"

The woman shook her head. "I did not, but those guys might." She pointed to three uniformed men at the door.

He turned, asking the same question. One thought he remembered a taxi. Grissom hit one again on his phone, again no answer. He pressed two on the key pad and immediately got Catherine.

"Catherine, I need to leave for a while. Take care of things." He did not wait for an answer, cutting the connections, and pressing one, again getting no answer.

In his vehicle, he hesitated briefly—where could she have gone? Home—she had to be there. He broke several traffic laws as he drove. His phone rang—Catherine.

"What's going on?" She asked, adding, "Hodges."

"Not sure. I'm heading home. Sara—Sara's not—I don't know." He closed the phone as he pulled to the curb; using the front door was quicker than the garage, he ran up the stairs.

"Sara! Sara!" He shouted as the door opened. His voice was too harsh. He softened his voice as he called her name again. The dog met him. "Where is she?" He patted the dog and headed into the bedroom—no one; he checked the second bedroom—empty. He headed for the garage.

In the dim light, he could see her car and the slumped figure in the driver's seat. He had the door open, saying her name before he realized she was sleeping. He knelt beside her; his hand lightly touched her shoulder.

Her eyes flickered open; slowly, dazed, she raised her head. "Gil?" Her voice was a whisper, saying his name as a question. "I have to leave—I can't stay here." Her words stumbled and tumbled out.

"What's wrong, honey? Where are you going?"

When her eyes looked at him, he saw the desperate darkness of haunted eyes; the hopeless melancholy that had surrounded her for weeks etched into her face. Some instinct kept him from pulling her from the car—her eyes sunk into dark sockets, her skin almost transparent. If he had brought her into his arms, she would have shattered; he would have never let her go.

Instead, he offered his hand. A full minute passed before she put her own in his. Grissom stepped back and Sara came out of the car. Seconds passed before she moved closer and only then did he wrap an arm around her.

"Let me get you something to eat." It was the only words he could think to say that might get them inside the house. She nodded.

He got her into the kitchen, set water on to heat, and guided her into the bedroom. "Sit while I get tea."

Sara sat and before he was out of the room, Hank joined her on the bed. It took a few minutes to make tea, find cookies, but she remained unmoved, staring into space when he returned.

"I can't stay, Gil," she said, her words mumbled, little more than a whisper. Her eyes were glazed as if she were in a daydream.

When she did not take the cup, he held it to her lips. "You don't have to stay, honey." Her trembling hand covered his as she sipped tea. He broke a cookie and placed a piece in her mouth. "Where will you go?"

She shook her head. "I need to leave." She finally looked at him, her eyes filled with tears. "I don't know—I can't stay here—not now."