Cath was right about the pills knocking her out, Sara thought as she stumbled through the living room. She had woken to an incessant buzzing, and then knocking, from her front door, and she had struggled up out of bed to rip whoever was out there to shreds. One-handed at that. She yanked open the door to face her co-workers, three of them, standing in her door with huge grins and even larger packages. "What the..." she got out before Greg pressed a bouquet of flowers into her free hand. "Here! Get-well flowers," he announced, taking her arm and leading her back into her apartment as Nick and Warrick followed them in. "We also have a get-well card, get-well pizza, and, um, get-well soda.

"And movies," Nick called from where he was already turning on her TV and VCR. Sara sank into a chair at the kitchen island, and tried to take stock of the chaos that had erupted in her apartment in the last thirty seconds. Warrick was laying out three huge pizzas on the counter, Greg was fixing glasses of ice, and Nick had crept up on her, sliding an arm around her waist to give her hug. "We are so glad you are ok," he said quietly, sincerely. His drawl deepened, as it always did when he was feeling emotional. "I don't ever want to show up at a crime scene like that again, you hear me Sara Sidle?" He pressed a brotherly kiss against her cheek before heading around the bar to start serving pizza.

Although a few seconds before, Sara had been ready to throw them out, on their ears regardless of the pain it would cause her shoulder, a feeling of warmth bubbled through her as the care and concern of her co-workers was evident in their actions. She understood the reasons why they had suddenly descended on her apartment like a swarm of locusts, and she found she didn't want to toss them out just because she was too controlling about her personal space.

Warrick stepped up to give her a hug, enveloping her so her cheek rested against his broad chest. He was surprised she let him, and even more surprised when her good arm tentatively slid around his waist and she rested there. "Hey girl, how are you feeling?" Warrick asked quietly, feeling tender and protective of the slight figure in his arms.

"I'm good, for someone with a bunch of holes in her arm," she muttered, still soaking in the warmth of his body.

His mouth quirked into a smile. "We wanted to check in on you, but we'll leave if this is too much, ok?"

"Ok."

"Now if you'll stop manhandling my girl," Greg interjected, stepping between the two of them bodily, "she needs to eat before the food is cold. Your veggie supreme, my lady," he said with a bow. "Now what would you like to drink?"

They caught her up on the gossip and events of the lab, but running underneath their words was the constant reminder of how concerned they were for her and how much she was missed. At one point, Nick admitted that they had planned on a hospital visit but she had been let out too quickly, to which Greg chimed in, "Yeah, and we were going to stop by yesterday but Catherine wouldn't let us."

Often, while working at the lab, Sara had felt, or been made to feel, like an outsider in the close-knit group that had already been an effective team before she had arrived, so the attention and concern being lavished on her an unexpected, but very welcome, surprise. All the time she had been there, she had looked to Grissom to make the place feel like home, but now she realized that her other relationships were becoming much more meaningful and sustaining then the odd, and often empty, relationship she had with Grissom.

Nick and Warrick flanked her on either side as they watched movies, starting with a 'certified chick flick' that she was genetically programmed to like, according to Nick whose sisters had raved about Bend It Like Beckham to him. They made popcorn, teased Greg about his favorite movie, and generally enjoyed the morning. So much so that when Catherine let herself in hours later, she was greeted by the sight of Greg, leaned back in a recliner, head thrown to the side, snoring lightly, as the blank TV screen lit his face. Nick, she noticed, was curled in a throw on the couch, the remote inches from his cupped hand.

The faint hallway light illuminated Warrick's sleeping body propped up on Sara's bed, one arm thrown protectively around the slumbering form beside him. Laughing a little to herself as she realized that she hadn't needed to cut short her nap to keep Sara company, Catherine carefully made her way around the bed to slide in on Sara's other side, her fatigue overtaking her as soon as she closed her eyes.

Warrick woke slowly, his hand automatically turning off the alarm in his wristwatch before he had his eyes open. It took him a moment to make out the slight form of Catherine curled up on the other side of Sara, or to see that Sara's eyes were open and she was grinning up at him. When he raised his eyebrows questioningly, Sara smirked and whispered, "You know, Mr. Brown, this is how rumors get started."

He chuckled quietly, and replied, "As if anyone would believe that I was in bed with both Sara Sidle and Catherine Willows." He twisted his face into a comical thoughtful expression. "Of course, if they did, I would officially be the lab stud."

"Catherine?" He indicated her other side with a nod of his head and saw her eyes dart over to the body beside her before widening in understanding. "Oh." Her sudden tension puzzled him, since she had been fine waking up next to him, but he figured that she was just surprised since Catherine hadn't been there when they fell asleep.

"I'm going to wake Nick and Greg and send them home to get ready for work, ok? Coffee?" At her nod, he carefully extricated himself from the bed before her voice stopped him in the doorway. "Hey, Rick? If anyone needs to shower here or something, that's ok." He nodded and was gone.

A chuckle from behind her indicated Catherine was awake. "What?"

"For a person who's very protective of her personal space, you seem to be making great strides."

"Yeah, I guess." Sara struggled into a sitting position before sliding to the edge of the king-sized bed. "The guys were great today," she reflected before heading out to the living room to say goodbye to Nick and Greg. Warrick finished the coffee and headed down to his SUV to fetch the bag he kept in there, deciding to take Sara up on her offer of a shower while Catherine heated leftover soup for the three of them.

"So... did you call Sta?" Catherine asked, keeping her voice deliberately casual and conversational, although the sudden tension in Sara's shoulders, accompanied by a wince of pain, told her the attempt was in vain.

"No. I'm thinking of calling her tonight."

"That would probably be a good idea," Catherine agreed. She set a bowl in front of Sara where she sat at the kitchen island, her shoulders slumped and her teeth working her lower lip relentlessly. "You know I'm here for you to talk to, anytime, right?" Her reassurance didn't have the desired effect; if anything Sara's nervous gnawing increased as she searched Catherine's face. A quiet 'yeah, thanks,' before turning to her soup did nothing to ease Catherine's worry.

No matter how long she had worked morgues, the antiseptic smell of hospitals always bothered her; she was sure she would never get used to the thin veneer of scent that masked the real smell of the dead, dying, and sick. The sterility was a deceit, she knew, and it made her very uncomfortable to breath the air that she imagined recycled all the germs and ills from the other patients; it was an irrational fear, and the scientist knew that the air was carefully filtered, but the child in her made her want to flee to the exits. And never had Sara been more glad to burst into the fresh air and sunshine than today. Managing to restrain herself from resting her hand on her knees and taking huge gulps of air, she dropped her overnight bag at the foot of a bench and stretched out in the cooler Northern California sun, closing her eyes behind her sunglasses for an impromptu nap.

When a shadow broke into her sun, she pried an eye open, and then shielded her eyes to get a better look. The silhouette seemed somewhat familiar, "Sta? That you?"

"Were you napping?" Her incredulous voice woke Sara up fully, and she struggled to her feet, pushing up with her good arm.

"Hey, this is my sleep time. I do work nights, remember?" Sara grinned as Sta grabbed her bag and headed toward a car parked a few feet away. "And besides, I'm just out of the hospital. Cut a girl some slack." She followed to the practical red Honda, even more relieved to be leaving the vicinity of the hospital for two days of hanging around her old home with an old friend.

Sta deposited her bag in the trunk and caught Sara in a surprise hug, her eyes taking in the sling, the sunken cheeks, and thin body of her friend. "Yeah, you look like shit, Sidle." She held the door open and helped Sara slide into the car. "You should have Catherine take better care of you," she teased gently, opening up a topic she had been dying to ask about since she had heard an unfamiliar voice answer her friend's phone a week ago.

Sara sniffed. "You think you know anything about Catherine?"

Sta settled into her seat, watching Sara out of the corner of her eye. Sara's face was always so expressive; she was a terrible card player because every emotion and thought was signaled by the twist of her mouth or the liquid depths of her eyes if you knew how to read. "You let her into your house. She took care of you while you were injured. You told her about Lucy. You like her." Surprisingly, Sara's face gave away little of what she was thinking, especially about the goad at the end, and Sta couldn't hide her frown of concern.

"She's a co-worker."

"That never stopped you before."

"She's straight."

"Also never stopped you before."

"She has a kid."

"Interesting new complication."

Finally, her expression broke from the cold, immovable mask only to show vexation. "And I don't like her, not the way you are insinuating. Now is there a reason we're sitting here in the car, not moving?"

With a sigh, Sta started the car and drove through the busy streets of San Francisco toward her apartment. A tactical change was required, she thought. "So how did it go?" There was no need to define 'it'; Sara had gotten a cab straight from the airport to the hospital to see Lucy, wanting to get that part of the trip out of way as quickly as possible so she could enjoy the rest of her weekend.

"Pretty much like I expected."

"That bad?"

"Yeah."

"I thought she wanted closure."

"Apparently that means having me fly all the way here so she can tell me how badly I treated her. Again." Sara's sigh carried over the sound of the air-conditioning. "It amazes me that, she wakes up and the first thing she wants to do is rehash the past. I just don't understand it."

"I never did. I always thought you could do so much better. Like Catherine."

"We are NOT discussing Catherine." She always could close down a conversation with that look and that tone, her soft tones doing nothing to disguise the force of her words. "If you are going to keep bringing her up, I'll change my ticket and head home tonight. Clear?"

There really was only one answer to that. "Clear. So..." she breathed, looking over at her friend again and thinking about how many meals she could get in her in the two days that had together, "what old haunts did you want to visit while you are here?"

AN: I had a whole different arc for this San Francisco subplot planned when I first began this story, but I didn't like it as I got into the story, so I just figured I'd wrap it up quick and get to a better plot. Hence this somewhat fragmented and disjointed chapter. Next one will be better: A Lady Heather's Box, Take 2 plot development.