Las Vegas, Nevada. Brass's office at PD.

"And finally, we have some breaking news. According to our sources, it would appear that yesterday afternoon a small aircraft crashed in the Corcovado National Park area in the south of Costa Rica. The Air Costa Rica Flight 473 commuter plane which was flying its daily route from San Jose to Puerto Jiménes ran into difficulty an hour into the ninety minute flight. The aircraft was carrying sixteen passengers and three crew members – two pilots and a flight attendant and from what we understand, at this moment in time, the local search and rescue team has only found one survivor…"

"What the hell…?"

Brass looked up from the latest statistics on emergency response times sprawled on his desk that he had been perusing, his attention suddenly drawn to the news and images on the TV screen. The volume of the TV had been set on low, the way Brass liked it when he had nothing to do but crunch meaningless figures or paperwork. He carelessly swung his feet off his desk and reached for the remote control to turn the sound up.

"It has been confirmed by the American Authorities in Costa Rica that local man, Dr Gilbert Grissom…"

"Holy shit!"

"…ex-nightshift Supervisor with the Las Vegas Criminalistics branch of the Police Department has escaped with his life. The cause of the accident is unclear but we are told that the Costa Rica Air Investigation Unit are on the scene attempting to recover the flight data recorder. We will keep you updated as and when we hear. This was Paula Francis reporting for…"

Brass clicked the news off, staring at the blank screen with a bewildered, perplexed expression wondering whether he had heard correctly. He frantically searched for his cell phone on the desk and remembering that he had left it in his jacket pocket that hung off the back of the chair, he fumbled for it and quickly speed-dialled a very familiar number.

"Willows." barked Catherine from the other end.

"Catherine? It's Jim…"

"Jim?" She cut in, not giving him a chance to talk. "Oh, no, no, Jim. I'm off the clock. Isn't there anyone else to take this call, preferably someone from swing?"

"Huh? No…listen, Catherine. This call's not work related. Have you seen the news?"

"Have I seen the news? No, Jim. When I'm off, I try to stay away from…What's up? You sound…a bit off." she asked suddenly realising that Jim did not sound his normal self.

"Have you heard from Grissom recently?" He didn't bother to wait for a reply. "Something's happened." Brass said more calmly.

"What? to Grissom? He's gone to…"

"Costa Rica?"

"How do you know? He only left…"

"Damn it, Catherine! You knew about this trip?" Brass interrupted impatiently.

She nodded into the phone and sighed. "Yeah. He rang me a few days ago and asked if I could watch Hank and the house while he was away. Listen Jim, I don't get why..."

"He's had an accident. The pl…"

"An accident?"

"From what I understood from the news, the plane he was travelling in crashed sowhere in the jungle - trust him to find the most secluded spot! - but he's still alive…" he added quickly on hearing her gasp on the line.

"What? But when I saw him, he was so happy…God Jim, he's gone to find Sara…How badly hurt is he?" she asked, clearly shaken.

"Not sure at this point. Jesus! Do you know how we can get a hold of Sara there?"

"No and I don't think he knew himself where she was. But…hang on a sec…yes, I've got it here." She exclaimed holding up a small piece of paper. "He left me the address of the Biological Research Centre he was headed to."

She read out the Spanish address with some difficulty while Brass jotted it down in his note book.

"Jim, what do we do?"

"What can we do?" Brass let out a long sigh. "Let me…contact the Embassy in Costa Rica and see what I can find out."

"Okay, I'll make my way into PD now."

"There's no need, Catherine. We can't do anything from our end. Try not to worry till we have all the facts."

"Easier said…" Catherine sighed. "Thanks, Jim. I feel so…"

"Powerless? Yeah, me too."

With that, Brass rang off. "Damn it Gil!" He banged his fist on the desk, shaking his head in disbelief. "What have you got yourself into now?"


At long last, Sara and Richard were nearing the periphery of the ranger station and research centre. They had been trekking for a good hour now, carrying on their backs a fair amount of very heavy and cumbersome material. The midday sun had been beating down on them hard and the only thing that was keeping Sara going at this stage was the thought of taking a very long cool refreshing shower.

Richard was ambling along however, quite content on taking his time, happily bouncing some ideas off Sara that he had about the article he was writing for The Conservation Society about the extinction of many species of turtles. Sara, for her part, had taken some amazing night-time photographs which she was looking forward to downloading onto the laptop and manipulating. They would make a nice addition to Richard's article.

On seeing Pablo walk towards them as they entered the camp, Sara stopped talking to Richard and waved and smiled at Pablo. The ranger station seemed busier than usual and they assumed that the commotion was probably due to the plane crash they had heard about.

Sara put down the heavy rucksack she had been lugging back from the coast. "Hola Pablo." She greeted him with a smile, taking her sunglasses off.

"Hello, Sara, Richard." The usually jovial man replied in a much more serious tone than he would normally have used to greet his colleagues, still clearly upset by his and Miguel's unfortunate discovery.

Remembering the reasons for such a change of mood, Richard said rather sombrely. "We heard about the crash… how's the guy you pulled out doing?"

"I'm not too sure; I hear it's still touch-and-go. Stéphane worked on him late into the night" finished Pablo with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Was…he the only one who made it?" asked Sara quietly, squinting into the midday sun, her voice barely above a whisper, her face taking a very serious, sad expression.

"Afraid so. He's one lucky man…I tell you. From what Mary told me, Stéphane did everything he could…Lucky to be alive."

Sara nodded her head in understanding. "It just wasn't his time to die."

For she understood all too well what it was like not to die.

And she also remembered what it was like to come across a crash site, the devastation and suffering all around. Not even mentioning the ghastly discovery of the casualties. She gave Pablo what she hoped was a sympathetic smile.

She had thought that she would be safe from all that when she had left Las Vegas and the US. She had seen far too much death and destruction to last her a lifetime. It seemed however that she hadn't gone far enough, that she hadn't put enough distance between her and that past.

Pablo seemed to ponder Sara's word for a while and slowly nodded his agreement before continuing talking. "Eric tells me that he thinks the guy was on his way here, to the research centre, a new volunteer, I think. An American entomologist – is that how you pronounce it?" he asked looking towards Richard who nodded his head in acquiescence. "He was due to arrive soon to do some work on..."

An American entomologist?

Sara's whole body gave an involuntary shudder as if the sun had suddenly been obscured by a cloud. All of a sudden, she felt very, very cold.

No. It can't be. Surely, there are lots of American entomologists out here doing research.

Sara's sun-tanned face visibly paled at the mere possibility that it could be Grissom lying there injured.

No, no, it can't be.

She began to shake her head very slowly from side to side as if this simple motion could disperse the awful thoughts entering her mind. Her eyes had glazed over and she stood unsteady on her feet, blindly staring at Richard.

"It can't be him" she mumbled out loud.

Yet, she needed to know. She had to know. She had to be sure.

"Sara, are you all right?" asked a concerned Richard on noticing the sudden change in her mood and expression. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Not hearing that Richard had spoken to her, she turned her gaze to address Pablo. "Do you know his name?" Her words caught in her throat and she had to raise her voice to make herself heard when she anxiously demanded for the second time. "Pablo, what's the man's name?"

"Grisham" he replied quickly, startled by the panic in Sara's voice. "No, no, wait. Not Grisham." He thought for a second. "Eric said the man's called Grissom. Lucky to be alive, too."

But Sara didn't get to hear his last comment. She had already taken off at full speed towards the infirmary, not hearing the concerned voices of the people calling after her.

Sara ran to the infirmary as fast as her legs could take her. When she got there, she stopped abruptly, rooted to the spot, breathless, unable to cross the threshold. If she didn't go in maybe her worst fears wouldn't come true.

"I'm being silly" she said out loud, shaking her head. "It can't be him."

But something was nagging at her, drawing her inside.

Part of her wanted to believe that it wasn't him lying in there, that it couldn't be him, that he was safe in Las Vegas working a scene or at the lab puzzling over some evidence. Or maybe he was at home reading or gone out for a walk with Hank.

Or maybe she was going to wake up soon from a horrible nightmare. Yes, this is what it was – another one of her nightmares.

This whole situation just had to be a mistake.

Deep down however she knew. She could feel it in her heart.

How many entomologists called Grissom could there be?

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity but was merely a few seconds, she mustered enough courage to turn the handle and go into the infirmary. She took a left past the treatment room and froze at the injured man's open door, as though transfixed.

She never noticed Mary washing her hands at the sink in the corner of the room. All she saw was the blurry outline of a body lying on a bed, hooked up to a machine. It felt as if this whole thing was happening to someone else or in a film. That's not him, she thought fruitlessly. It was like some out-of-body experience occurring in slow motion.

She took a few shy steps closer towards the bed, one arm tentatively outstretching towards Grissom.

And then she saw his face, the face of the man she loved and had loved for as long as she could remember.

"Oh God, Gil!" she gasped, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth.

Belatedly, the adrenaline surging through her system crested like a wave and she began to shake. She was blinking at him uncertainly, unable to keep the tears that had been threatening to spill from running down her cheeks, blurring her vision. She found herself weeping audibly from shock, from fear, from relief.

Shock because this was the last thing she had ever expected. Ever. How could it have happened? When all this time she thought that by leaving she had been protecting him.

Fear because he was lying there helpless, broken, critically wounded. Dare she think it – at death's door?

And relief because it hit her then that she could have been looking at his corpse, his dead body instead of his breathing one.

Sara swayed on her feet unsteadily. She looked about to faint. "I need to sit down."

Mary brought the chair nearer so Sara could sit on it.

She sat down, sobbing, staring numbly at the black and blue body hooked up to the monitor, at his broken legs, and at his bandaged head. He looked so much worse than he had done the previous night.

"Sara, I am so sorry. I meant to warn you."

"Mary, how could you have known?" she said, her voice close to a whisper.

She felt more tears rise as she got up to trace the outline of his jaw with a trembling finger. She took his hand in hers and found the chain he was holding on to. She just stood there holding him, letting the tears fall freely. He felt so hot to the touch and looked so vulnerable.

Instinctively, Grissom curled his fingers in hers, squeezing them weakly. "Sa…ra" he murmured through his oxygen mask. He was still heavily sedated, in a semi-conscious state. His eyes were tightly closed.

She bent down closer to his face. "Gil, I'm here. Don't try to talk."

"Here? You … back?"

"From the coast? Yeah, we finished early…"

"In … Vegas?" finished Grissom feebly. Speaking had weakened him and he fell once more under the influence of the morphine.

After a while spent stood by the bed silently watching Grissom still holding his hand, Sara slowly turned towards Mary. "Did you put the ring in his hand?"

Mary nodded. "He was wearing it on a chain around his neck when we found him…" she hesitated and decided not to tell Sara anymore at this stage. "It seemed appropriate."

"No, no, you did the right thing. I don't suppose he'll ever get to wear it now…" she mused sadly, wiping roughly the wetness from her cheeks with the back of her thumbs.

Mary finished changing the IV fluids without another word on the subject. She wasn't sure that last comment had been meant for her. She could see how upset Sara was and didn't know her well enough to pry.


Tbc.

So, the moment some of you have been eagerly waiting for! How did you like Sara's entrance? I hope I didn't disappoint your expectations…your comments are as always greatly appreciated...