A/NThanks for the encouraging words from all who reviewed! Your comments help me to shape the story, so if you are reading please consider leaving a review when you are done. Thanks!

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Chapter 2

Doc Robbins was worried about Sara.

His crutches clicked heavily on the cold tiles of the morgue's floor, matching the coroner's mood.

He kept replaying the sight of Sara laying on her couch. She was pale, bruised…and mere skin and bones. He mentally berated the team on the graveyard shift. Trained investigators, all of them. How had they allowed this to happen? She obviously had been troubled for a while, not eating and not getting proper rest. Why didn't any of them notice her?

He paused in his tirade. With shoulders slumped, he had to admit to himself that he had failed her more than the others. He was her physician…and her friend. Had he really been that busy?...that blind?...that…insensitive?

Doc rubbed his hand roughly over his face to bring back his concentration to the task at hand.

Having already dressed in his layered scrubs, he donned his protective head shield, lowered the visor and took aim with this scalpel.

His hand paused over the body.

Sighing, he looked up at the atomic clock blinking over the twin motorized doors at the morgue's entrance. He would give Grissom one more hour to contact him with news on Sara, before he picked up the lab's phone and left him a text message. They needed to talk; he needed to make Grissom listen.

Just as he was about to begin the autopsy, the doors swung open and the swing shift supervisor sauntered commandingly into the morgue.

Catherine Willows was a formidable presence, not one to easily be trifled with.

Today, however, Doc Robbins wanted to do much more than trifle with her.

Ignoring her for the moment, he turned on the electric chest cutters and began to slice expertly into the victim's ribcage. Blood splattered onto his face shield and his upper body protection. After separating and removing a set of ribs, exposing the heart and other organs, Doc turned off the surgical implement.

With bloody hands, he leaned over the cadaver's exposed organs and glared at Catherine.

"Something on your mind, Catherine?"

Doc's icy comments surprised Catherine. What bee is in his bonnet?

"This room seems a bit cooler than usual, Doc. Something on your mind?"

Covering the body opening with the sheet, Doc flipped up his visor and moved towards Catherine – all without breaking his stare.

"Actually, yes. I propose we have a little chat…may I suggest a topic?", he intoned. His words belied the storm that was festering beneath his otherwise calm exterior.

Always on the defensive, Catherine braced herself by crossing her arms protectively over her midriff. "By all means, Doctor."

"Let's talk about gossip…and unseen consequences created by it."

Catherine glared at Doc. He had accused her before of being too quick to judge others, and of gossiping without fully checking on the facts. She suddenly knew what this was all about. Her eyes brightened a bit as she tried to squelch the uneasiness engulfing her. Had something happened to Grissom or Sofia?

"Go on, Doc, it's your dime"

"Gil and Sofia. They had dinner. As colleagues. Nothing more."

Catherine scoffed. "Well, the evidence doesn't lie, Doc. You have to admit – Sofia is HOT. And she sure looked cozy with Grissom as they strolled out to their romantic "time out". You have to admit, they were gone quite a while. Then Grissom was losing his mind when he figured out the lab was buzzing about it. Now, I don't think-"

"NO! You DON'T THINK! And THAT is your problem, Catherine!"

Doc's voice reverberated off the polished stainless steel throughout the lab. His speech was so forceful that is made Catherine take a step back.

"It was gossip, Catherine. The same gossip that has threatened our piece of mind around here for too long. And now, it has finally gone TOO FAR!..."

Doc closed his eyes and sat wearily on the barstool in front of the electron microscope. Catherine tried to gauge the strength of his reaction, wondering if this was leading up to some horrific detail or was culminating in one of the many "Good of the Lab" speeches. "Doc –", she started hesitantly.

After a deep breath, Al Robbins opened his eyes to stare darkly into Catherine's worried stare.

She took a breath before daring to ask, "Are they alright? Did something happen?"

He released an irritated breath and said, "Grissom and Sofia are just fine. But Sara…"

Catherine winced. She stood there immobile, recalling the last conversation she and Sara had.

In supervisor mode, she had already started playing back the mental tape of that meeting.

Sara had been preoccupied with processing the shards of tire from the bus accident. The ventilation was poor, and her body posture indicated the fumes from the charred rubber were affecting her. Catherine recalled telling Sara what Judy had said about Sofia's perfume, about how she wrapped her arm around Grissom's as she was led out of the building, about how her hips sacheted to the beat of her mega heels…

Catherine took a mental step backward. Reverting unconsciously to CSI-mode, the trained investigator replayed the events and began to uncover an uncomfortable pattern: the more details she related to Sara, the greater the brunette's discomfort grew. She now realized that, in relating the steamy details, Catherine had failed to remember that Sara had always held a torch for Grissom…oh, God!…

Catherine sucked in a breath and flicked her eyes up to meet Doc's troubled gaze.

"Is she alright? She didn't do anything stupid, did she?", she asked softly.

Doc Robbins sighed. He could see the genuine concern on her face, and heard the remorse in her tone.

"She had an accident…"

Catherine was gripping his arms in an instant. "She's okay, right? She's not hurt…badly? Please, Doc….please…right?"

He guided her frantic form to sit on the stool next to him. Slowly, he related the story of how Sara had been accidentally injured by a fall from her couch. He continued that his present concern grew from the fact that because she was overworked and had not eaten in a while, and "…was so emotionally distraught, she was just not in her right mind. She hurt herself badly. Good thing Grissom was knocking on her door and was able to get into her apartment and find her. No telling what would have happened if he didn't find her in time."

Doc Robbins could not know that, at the precise moment he spoke those words to finish Sara's tale of woe, Sofia Curtis was lurking outside the entryway. She had just placed her manicured hand on the door to enter when she overheard a conversation, and someone used the word "Grissom". Stealthily she cracked the door slightly ajar, keen on understanding the basis of the chat. "One never knows where one will uncover something to tuck away for a rainy day!", she smiled to herself.

Unfortunately, she had not heard the entire context of those final words. Sofia gasped inwardly at the topic of conversation. She let the door shut silently and leaned against the cool surface of the hallway, allowing the thick moulding to partially obscure her presence. Had she just heard right?

Had Sara Sidle try to commit suicide?

That girl was a loner, and always struck Sofia as…expendable…but suicide? What could have pushed her over the edge?

And how did Grissom just happen to be outside her door?

And how did Doc know about this?

Sofia Curtis was steaming.

That little damsel-in-distress was getting a lot of attention for someone so – common. Grissom was an honorable man who was just the type to be entrapped by someone so - needy. That dark-haired bitch was going to throw a wrench in all my plans.

Sofia knew what she had to do.

She was going to have to get rid of Sara Sidle.

Smiling softly, she shook her head in that practiced way, soft blonde curls bouncing slightly over the back of her curvy outline – and headed purposefully towards Ecklie's office.

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Gil Grissom was worried about Sara Sidle.

They had spent the day laying on her queen size bed, cuddling gently. Sara cuddled close to him, to feel the warmth of his embrace in her waking hours. Gil had cuddled close to her in a more protective frame of mind.

He was dismayed to find her facial bruising turning an uglier, darker shade of purple. While she did not complain, he observed her favoring her side whenever she spoke more than a sentence at a time, which was not frequently this afternoon. He knew she was hurting. He wanted to take away her pain right now, and guard against anything from hurting her again- forever.

He sighed.

Using his formula, perhaps he needed most to guard her against himself.

He once again began berating himself silently for all the times he had pushed her away, forcing her into her recent depression - all because he had not been man enough to believe he was worthy of her love.

He sighed.

"That was your second sigh, Gil Grissom. You are only allowed three in one day. Use it wisely,"she quipped as she turned her face very slowly to look him squarely in the eye.

His large hand caressed her uninjured cheek, nudging it downward, and placed her head back on his chest, not wanting her to strain her wounded neck muscles.

"Sorry, my love."

"Care to share?"

Silence made him more introspective and made her unsettled. Now that their passion had been exposed and dealt with, was he reverting back to his old ways? She knew he loved her…but…could he really want her? Perhaps…

Sara felt a slight shudder overwhelm her. Gil instantly came out of his internal reflection, pulling himself up to make a cursory examination of her injuries. "Sara?"

"I'm fine," she said a bit too cheerily.

He had promised himself he would never accept that answer again.

"Sara…"

"Just lie with me, please…a little while more…before…you go."

"SA-RA!", he started loudly, startling her with his sudden movements. "Why do you want me to go? I love you. Do…do you still love me?"

The wounded look on his troubled countenance caused the most unusual reaction in Sara.

She laughed right out loud.

This reaction caused Gil to place his face further into her space, trying to peer into her eyes to see if she was showing signs of concussion or shock – something to explain the odd behavior.

When she quieted, she reached up towards her worried lover with her good arm and pulled him in for a gentle kiss. After they both opened their eyes, noses rubbing lovingly, she sighed. "We are certainly a pair!" She glanced away from his curious gaze for a moment before willing herself to resume eye contact. "You were so quiet…I thought…you had changed your mind…about…….loving me."

Gil closed his eyes briefly and sighed. "No, Sara…never…I …", but Sara stopped him.

"No more regrets. Life is too short. You have to make the best of every day. You never know about tomorrow…if there will even BE a tomorrow…"

He silenced her with a kiss. She was right. His favorite phrase from Thoreau's Walden replayed in his heart:

"Live the life you have imagined."

His resolve in place, Gil Grissom was suddenly a man on a mission. He swung his legs off the side and left her bed, moving around to the other side. He placed his arms gently under her knees and shoulders and lifted her, carrying her to the overstuffed wingback chair by her window.

She was giggling and asking him what in the world he was trying to do. He just smiled.

As she sat with her bruised side protected, he nuzzled her neck and kissed her hair softly. She sighed. "I want to die in your arms…"

He smiled. "Well, I have something different in mind…" She looked at him quizzically, but he just stared at her for the longest time with the oddest grin in place. After a long moment, he grabbed her hand, and placed his head close to hers, whispering from behind her ear:

"Come, live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
Of peace and plenty, bed and board,
That chance employment may afford."

"Cecil Day Lewis", she smiled tiredly.

"Sara…please…come, live with me…and be my love…"

She looked into his eyes and saw her heart's desire. She saw…home. A tear trickled down her cheek. Then she gave him her special smile.

"C'mon, sleepyhead," he said softly. "Let's get out of here."

Surprised, she turned her head fully as he scooped her up and stood. "No, Gil, I'm too sore, too tired to go out, and I don't want anyone to see me…" – he kissed her silent.

"I never said we were going out," he smirked as he lay her gently on her pillows. After a minute, she nodded in approval.

"Hope we haven't missed the butterfly launch," she said sleepily as he pulled up the covers, turned out the light, and happily hugged her to himself.

She raced ahead of him, exhausted from her injuries. He found himself checking to be sure she was settled and safe before exhaling forcefully and drifting towards their Better Place. It was at that minute that his cell phone signaled that he had received a text message. Debating whether to ignore it and join Sara, or whether it might be something of importance, he sighed as he reached for the device and read the screen indicating one message from "MORGUE".

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The knock on the door startled the Lab Director, and he barked, "ENTER!"

His demeanor changed immediately as a perky blonde stood with her hands behind her back, accentuating her assets, and crooned, "Do you have a minute?"