Title: The Longest Journey

Author: Jeanine (jeanine@iol.ie)

Rating: PG

Pairing: Sara/Warrick

Spoilers: No specifics, but since I've only seen season one, we'll say everything there to be safe.

Feedback: Almost as nice as CSI on DVD

Disclaimer: If it was in the show, it's not mine.

Archive: At my site Checkmate (http://helsinkibaby.topcities.com/csi/csific.htm) , Fanfiction.net; anywhere else, please ask.

Summary: When two CSIs stop talking, two others hatch a plan…

***

The mid-afternoon sun was high in the sky as Catherine straightened up from the dresser in the bedroom, having finally lifted the last print that she'd found on the crime scene. She stretched, arching her back, fighting back a groan as her aching muscles told her exactly how long she'd been crouching, and how long before that it had been since she'd had any sleep, or even any relaxation. She didn't even want to look in the mirror, afraid of the depth of dark shadows she no doubt had underneath her eyes, visible even through her make-up. It had been a long shift.

It had been a long few months.

"You about done?" The voice of her partner had her jumping and turning, giving him a quick smile as he frowned at her reaction.

"Just finished," she reported, popping her findings into her case, getting ready to leave. "Plenty of nice fingerprints for Sara to test."

The second the words were out of her mouth, she wanted to bite her tongue off. Warrick didn't say anything, just shrugged, but a man who gave definition to the word laconic wouldn't have reacted with words anyway. Catherine had long since trained herself to pick up the smaller signs with which to gauge his reaction, and from the slight widening, then shadowing of his eyes, and the way he instantly looked down and away and changed the subject, she'd known that she'd said the wrong thing.

"Many different sets?" he asked, eyeing the bedroom furnishings with interest, as if he could count them all right then and there.

"At least a dozen," Catherine said, and his lips pursed into a rueful grimace, probably wondering, as she had, where they'd all come from. "The mom said she was out of town last week…two teenaged kids in the house, what do you think the odds are that there was a party here?"

A snort of something that might have been amusement passed his lips, but otherwise, Warrick's face didn't change. "No bet here," he murmured.

"Got that right." Catherine picked up the bag and they began to make their way down the stairs. "Which means we've got to print all the kids' friends, if they give us anything at all, then try to see if there's any unaccounted for…" Sara was going to love them for this, she almost said, but she cut herself off just in time, instead going straight to the passenger door of the car, letting him drive them back to the lab in near silence.

"I'll get these to the lab," she told him, as they stood in the parking lot. "Then, I'm going to head home, catch some sleep, and start cooking something for Lindsey before I pick her up from school. What about you?"

Warrick glanced at his watch, rolling his eyes when he saw how much overtime they'd racked up already, all over what was supposed to be a simple breaking and entering that they'd caught right at the tail end of the shift. "Same," he said. "I'll drop the evidence off at the lab if you want to go straight home though."

"That'd be great Warrick. Thank you." Catherine smiled at him, pleased at his thoughtfulness, opening her mouth to say something else. Whatever it was though, was interrupted by the chirp of her cellphone. She gave Warrick an apologetic grin, holding up one hand as she answered it. "Hello? Yes, this is she…what? Is she ok? Yes, I'll be right there. Thank you."

When she hung up the phone, Warrick was looking at her, concern written all over his face. "Everything ok?"

"That was Lindsey's school," Catherine explained. "She's been sick, they need me to go pick her up…"

"Go." Warrick's voice was firm. "I was going to take the evidence in anyway, I'll tell Gris where you are, and that you might be late tonight."

He was reaching to take the bag from her shoulder, and she checked her watch, eyes widening as she realised what time it was, smacking her forehead with the heel of her hand. "Oh no…"

"What?" Warrick was still all concern, shouldering the evidence kit easily.

"I forgot, I can't go straight home, I said that I'd collect Sara…" She turned huge eyes up to him, begging, pleading. "Warrick, can you do it for me? Please? I wouldn't ask, but I've got to get to Lindsey…" She was already backing away from him, not taking no for an answer, not even when she saw his eyes widen, his mouth open. "Oh, Warrick, thanks so much…"

He was still trying to formulate a response when she turned her back and all but sprinted to her car without looking back. She backed out of her space quickly, driving away from the lab, stopping only when she was a couple of miles away, pulling in off the road, and dialling a number on her cell-phone. "It's me," she said when the person at the other end picked up.

"Did he go for it?" Grissom's voice was curious.

Catherine leaned back in her seat, allowing herself a satisfied chuckle. "Oh, he went for it all right. I think I missed my calling."

"You would have convinced me," he allowed, and Catherine could almost see his little smile, his raised eyebrow when he spoke.

"You took care of things at your end?" she asked, because it'd be just like Grissom to get distracted and forget.

"Between Nicky and myself, we managed to get the word around. If Warrick does try to palm this off on anyone, they're all going to have plans."

"Good."

There was a pause before Grissom spoke again, and when he did, his voice was doubtful. "Are you sure this is necessary Catherine? It's only been two weeks…"

She'd heard this from him before, and it didn't cut any ice with her this time either. "It's been two weeks since she came back to work Grissom. How long was it before that?" she pointed out.

"Yeah." The word was an un-Grissomlike sigh.

"Gris, they can't go on like this," she told him. "Sooner or later, something has to give."

Grissom's voice was quiet, and had her heart sinking like a rock. "That's what I'm afraid of."

***

…two weeks ago…

Sara Sidle was laughing as she and Nick Stokes moved through the halls of the CSI lab. Not that they were moving too quickly; after all, they could only move a couple of feet at a time, for no sooner had one well-wisher departed than another one came up to take their place. Sara's cheeks were pink from embarrassment and sore from smiling at people, and she didn't miss the fact that Nick was taking much delight in her discomfort. "Shut up," she muttered when she caught his eye, and he just shook his head, giving her his best "Aw-shucks Ma'am" smile.

"It's like I keep telling you Sara," he told her. "Nothing improves your company like the lack of it. Bet you never realised you were so popular."

"You can sing that one," she muttered in reply, fixing a smile to her face as David Phillips walked by them, changing course when he caught a glimpse of Sara.

"You're back!" he beamed, looking from one to the other.

"Can't get anything by you guys, can I?" Sara quipped, her smile, fixed or not, taking any sting out of her words.

"She's just cranky because she'd rather be at home watching crappy chat shows," Nick deadpanned, nodding conspiratorially at David.

"I would not," Sara protested, reaching over to smack him, a move that Nick dodged easily. She settled for narrowing her eyes and mock glaring at him, which only served to increase his mirth. She turned back to David, rolling her eyes. "You seen Grissom?"

David nodded. "Break room," was all he said, moving past them. "I'll see you later?"

"Sure, I'll be around," Sara replied, moving off in the direction of the break room, pausing when she realised that Nick was chuckling to himself. "What?"

"Just wondering if David is counting that as a date," he replied, and she opened her mouth, then thought better of replying, which of course, only gave Nick more impetus to tease her. "I mean, come on…the guy's got a serious thing for you. He practically pined the whole time you were out…"

Sara shook her head, sighing, good mood suddenly dissipating like mist. "Nice to know someone missed me," she muttered, and a shadow flitted across Nick's face.

"Sara-" he began, but she cut him off, moving away from him.

"Let's find Grissom. Get this shift started."

Well aware of how immovable Sara could be when she had her mind made up against something, Nick had no choice but to follow her to the break room where, ever the gentleman, he held open the door for her, entering behind her.

She'd no sooner entered the room than a chorus of Kool and the Gang's Celebration began to blare, and her eyes widened in shock as she took in the sight before her. Greg Sanders beside a boom box in a loud multi-coloured shirt wasn't unusual, but the party hat on his head certainly was a new addition. Beside him, Catherine stood, similarly hatted, with Lindsey, streamers around her neck, dancing to the music beside her. But the sight of her boss, Gil Grissom, with both hat on head and streamers around his neck, was one that she'd never forget, and she cracked up with shocked laughter. Hanging from the base of the cupboards was a homemade banner, emblazoned with the legend "Welcome back Sara," and tears came to her eyes as she looked around her.

"I don't believe you guys did this," she murmured, and Nick laid a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently before bending to kiss her cheek.

"Welcome home Sara," he said quietly in her ear, and she gritted her teeth, willing the tears not to fall.

"We wanted to do something to mark the occasion," Catherine told her. "We hope you don't mind."

"You like the sign?" Lindsey wanted to know, running over to Sara. "I made it!"

"You did?" Sara sounded very impressed, and Lindsey seemed to grow an extra inch or three at her reaction. "You made it all by yourself?"

"Mommy did the letters," Lindsey was forced to admit, her shoulders slumping a little. "But I did all the colouring."

"It's very pretty," Sara told her, hugging the child. She'd never been great with children, and she'd be the first to admit that, but she'd become very close to both Lindsey and Catherine over the last few months, and had come to adore the little girl. "I'm going to take it home with me and hang it somewhere where I can see it all the time."

"Cool!" Lindsey was all but jumping up and down, and Catherine flashed Sara a grateful grin.

"We also have cake," Grissom said, nodding his head in acknowledgement to Sara.

"So this is why you wanted to get me in here so early," Sara accused Nick, who was putting a party hat on his head.

"You didn't think it was for the overtime did you?" Nick asked.

"It crossed my mind," she admitted, looking around the room, meeting everyone's gaze. Just for the briefest of instants, her smile faltered, so briefly that each person present thought they'd only imagined it. It wasn't until they exchanged worried glances with the person nearest them that they realised that they hadn't. By that time, Sara had made her way over to the table and was eyeing the cake with interest. "Hmmm…chocolate…my favourite."

"I know," Catherine told her proudly, reaching for the paper plates. "Why do you think I chose it? Gris, you want to cut?"

"My pleasure." Grissom began slicing the cake neatly. "While I'm doing this, who's going to start with the presents?"

"I get presents?"

"Sure you do," Nick told her, a wicked glint in his eye. "This is from me." He lobbed a small box at her, and she caught it easily.

"You're giving me matches?" she asked him sceptically.

"Sure," he nodded. "To prop your eyes open now that you're not used to all those late nights anymore."

She narrowed her eyes at him, but her lips were curved up into a smile. "Thank you."

"This is from me," Greg announced, stepping towards her, a nervous grin on his face as he extended his offering to her.

His at least was brightly wrapped, huge globs of sticky tape holding it together. "Am I ok to open this in public?" she asked jokingly, looking pointedly at Lindsey, then at Greg, knowing well his sense of humour. Catherine was giving him a similar look and he nodded quickly, telling them both that it was an innocuous present. It took a couple of minutes for Sara to negotiate the tape, and she seriously considered asking for a scissors, but didn't want to give him the satisfaction. Finally, the gift fell apart in her lap, and she picked through the component parts. "Blue pens…red pens…paper clips…" She looked up curiously when she saw the final item. "Plasters?"

"Sure," he nodded, deadpan. "In case you get a paper cut from all the paper you'll be pushing." He ducked quickly as one of the red pens went sailing by his ear. "Is that any way to treat a present?"

"No comment." But she was still smiling when she said it, and he was sincere when he next spoke.

"It's good to have you back Sara. We've missed you around here."

There was a lump in Sara's throat, and it only grew when Catherine whispered, "Hear, hear."

"I'll drink to that," Grissom announced, and she looked at him, seeing that he'd poured several glasses of something fizzy into paper cups. "Strictly ginger ale," he clarified, seeing her questioning look.

"Of course," she grinned, shaking her head in amazement, looking around the room once more. "I can't believe you all did this."

"You said that already," Greg pointed out, but instead of rolling her eyes like she normally would have, she just forced a smile to her lips, a thin film of tears misting her vision.

"Well I meant it."

She accepted a paper cup from Grissom, looking down at the bubbles popping on the surface, grateful for the distraction. She didn't look up until Grissom spoke again, until the room narrowed as a crowd of people stood around her. "A toast then…welcome back Sara."

Everyone echoed the toast, paper cups being touched rim to rim, everyone's smiles becoming as watery as Sara's. They were so caught up in the moment that no-one noticed when the door opened, not until a new voice spoke.

"Am I missing something?"

Thanks to the tight knit circle around Sara, she was invisible, and they were occluding much of the sign as well. It wasn't until they stepped away almost as one that he was able to see either. The room fell silent, and all vestiges of laughter died away, an unmistakable blanket of tension settling around the group.

Sara turned slowly, nervously, looking up into Warrick's green eyes. She wasn't sure what she was going to see there; no more than anyone else was sure of how this moment was going to play out. There was no discernible change in Warrick's features, or his stance as he stared at her; he might have been carved from marble. It was Sara who reacted first, eyes dancing, warmth emanating from her smile. "Hey."

"Sara," he nodded.

Silence reigned, and Greg, being Greg, jumped in to fill it. "So, who's for cake?"

Everyone jumped in to clamour for their slice, and a vague sense of normalcy returned to the room. If anyone noticed that Warrick and Sara stayed at opposite ends of the room, if anyone noticed Warrick's studious avoidance of even looking at her, if anyone noticed the pained glances that Sara was shooting in his direction, and they all did, then no-one said anything.

The party lasted until Grissom looked at the clock, then cleared his throat apologetically. "Shift started ten minutes ago," he pointed out, a comment that was greeted predictably by a chorus of groans. "I know, I know," he said, holding up his hands, as if that would ward off any evil glances that would come his way. "Assignment slips will be handed out in my office in five minutes, Catherine, you can drop Lindsey off on the way to yours." He met Sara's eyes. "You'll be pleased to know that we've got some DNA samples for you to work on and match."

"Welcome to my world," Greg broke in, with a mock-evil cackle. "Don't worry Sara, I promise to be gentle with you."

Sara chuckled. "I think I can handle whatever you've got Sanders," she retorted, her intonation making Nick choke on his last mouthful of cake.

"You care to prove that?" Greg challenged, already moving towards the door.

"Any time," was Sara's ready response, following him with a grin on her face. "Later guys," she called back, concentrating on manoeuvring herself and her wheelchair to and through the door. Thus, she didn't notice everyone's eyes following her progress, including and especially one pair of green eyes that had avoided her up to now.