She was selfish when she went away. Selfish, but for a reason. No burnout for her, neither in public eye, nor in private either. But when he called, she came. She would always come when that timber in his voice gave away the emotion his face wouldn't.
He said he needed her. So she booked a flight, packed her things, and moved to Vegas for a second time in her life. And for the same reason. She moved like lightening for the man she loved. She flew halfway across the country in a crowded tin can. Even a physician didn't need to be reminded of mortality in an airplane.
He called and she came. She unpacked her things, made dinner, took the dry cleaning in, and fed the dog. He told her less this time than before; just the simplicity of his statements still haunted her every time her eyes closed.
"Warrick is dead. I need you."
So she came. For hell or high water she would be with him. Pick out his black suit, make sure his shoes were impeccable, and probably give the beard a trim. She would drive him out there, with his hand in one of hers, and a simple promise of understanding.
So she did. Leaving her ghosts behind to trade for new ones seemed either insane, or actually like moving on.
She didn't promise to go back to work and she was still considered on leave. But she bought him lunch, and stroked his thigh as he ate.
He asked her to make it right, and she responded that she didn't know where to start.
They, together, sent flowers to his Grandmother's house. They hoped that the commendations and the hero's funeral would be enough to erase the last six months of his life. Warrick had tarnished his reputation with a bitter divorce, drug use, and fraternization with the Mob, hookers, and a murder or two. But 'Grams' would hear no lick of the rumours, because her grandchild was clear and truly a hero, however tarnished.
She cried solemn tears as the casket walked forth. Held by cops, friends, and an occasional bookie. She had asked special that Grissom not be made to carry such a burden. He had enough of his own. With Nick on one side of her, and her love on the other, Sara felt true remorse for leaving.
She never thought that burying her ghosts would shake the lab into burying one of their own. Grissom had all but assured her of the coincidence, of unforeseeable events that led to the demise of Warrick Brown, CSI III. Sara opened the door to her ghosts, letting some out and others in, and joined Grissom back in Las Vegas.