Disclaimer: These characters are the property of CBS, inc.

Spoiler: Ghosts

The angst is over, let the games begin. I totally plan to have fun with this. If you're still hanging in there, then prepare for some good, clean romance. Your feedback makes me smile. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

Sheila

No Rest for the Weary

Chapter 10

"Nicky, you got a first class sour look on your face. Wanna tell me what's going on?" Sara sat in the passenger's seat of Nick's Denali.

"You could be just the slightest bit upset that I am dragging you to Lake Mead in the middle of the night on your weekend." He shot her an accusatory look.

"Brass said he needed something from Roland. Said they couldn't close the case on Randy Trenton until he got it."

"On your weekend, Sara."

"Well, I guess that feeling outraged is reserved for those of us with lives outside of work." She shrugged. "While I love sitting around my apartment waiting for dust to gather, it's nice to break up the monotony with a little work."

He pointed a finger in her direction. "You should not let others have this much power over you."

She squirmed in her seat. "This is starting to sound like one of those, 'Grissom isn't good enough for you' conversations you are so fond of having with me."

He shot her a look. "Well, it's not."

"Good, 'cause, if you recall, I promised to beat you with a stick if you ever dredged up that subject again."

"Just don't think you should let people take advantage is all." Nick muttered.

"Okay, thanks, Nick. I'm going to write that down." Sara edged closer to the door. Nicky's moodiness had a weird edge to it. She narrowed her eyes a little. "The resort is closed?"

"That's what I heard. Seems like three deaths, a murderer on the premises, and a hit and run all in one week was bad for business. Figure they'll open up with new owners in a couple of months."

"Hey! Roland's place is straight down this road." She gestured as he took a sharp right.

"Ah, well, ah, he's actually up at his ex's place."

"Oh." She felt something odd in her gut.

Nick hit the brakes and turned to face her. "Do you wanna leave? 'Cause, I'll just turn around and we'll go back to Vegas. Grab a bite to eat. My treat. I'll call Brass and tell him to pick up his own damn evidence."

Sara's eyes were wide. "Nicky, I swear to God, I have no idea what's wrong with you right now. But we are within, like, 50 yards of the house, so just drive up there and let me pick up this stuff."

"Okay. Your choice. Just remember I warned you."

She put up her hand. "Whatever."

Nick parked the truck and turned to her. "Can I see your wallet?"

She furled her brow at him, but handed it over.

"And your phone." He held out his hand. She hesitated, and then pulled it off her belt. He took it with a smile. "It's just that you are always forgetting stuff and so I thought I would hang onto these things until you got back. Not interested in driving back here anytime soon."

She stared at him with a disgusted look. "They're called control issues, and there are effective medications available. I will be happy to go with you once we set the psychiatric assessment. Coupled with some good psychotherapy, you should be a palatable human being again in a few short months."

He grinned widely. "This is getting easier by the minute."

She shook her head in bewilderment as she climbed out of the cab. "Hey Sara! Forget to tell you. Got to take off your shoes at the door. Worthington had some sort of professional waxing job done."

She ignored him and went up to the door. No one responded to her knock, and she tried the knob. She walked into the house. It was just as she remembered it. A feeling of sadness filled her. There was such promise of love the last time she was here. Now all those memories felt like nothing more than pathetic fantasies. She called for Roland but got no answer. She took off her shoes and walked through the living room to the bedrooms. She stopped at the door where she and Grissom had slept together one whole day and night, intertwined and exhausted. The memory of this one innocent intimacy cut her sharply, and she let out a little gasp. She heard the front door open, and she stepped back. She wasn't interested in sharing this pain with anyone. She headed back to the front, ready to welcome the old man who she had come to know so well in such a short time. She called out, but no one replied. No one was at the front entrance. Then she heard the sound of a truck backing up. She walked to the door and opened it to find that Nick was driving away. She kicked at the doorframe and cursed. Her bare foot throbbed, and she hopped back in the house. She bent to put her shoes on, but found them gone. She stood up, puzzled. She looked around the room trying to reason this out. On the kitchen counter, she spied an envelope. On the front were her and Grissom's names. She opened it and read. "Shit!" she yelled within the first few paragraphs.

………………………………...

"Roland, you're aware that I'm an entomologist not an exterminator." Grissom was unable to keep the annoyance out of his tone. He took off his shoes as he entered the house as directed by the old man. He couldn't help but notice that Worthington kept his shoes on.

Worthington shrugged. "You were in the neighborhood."

"I was in the neighborhood 'cause you called me and demanded that I be."

"Well these are very persistent critters and nothing works, and since you're a friend and all, and I'm an old man-"

"Enough. Lead me to them."

"Yeah, I'll be right there. Just go back to the back bedroom. They're in the closet."

Grissom gave him a strange look and started down the hallway. All of sudden, he heard a scream and a dark haired woman jumped out of a bedroom, and ran past him.

"Sara?" He turned and trotted after her. She disappeared out the front door, and started screaming curses. He heard a truck back up and race away. The cursing continued outside in the darkness. Before he got to the door, she bounded back in, barefoot, and stopped in the kitchen, hands on her hips.

"Sara, what in God's nam-"

"Bastards! Criminals! Thieves! We'll sue them, Grissom. Drag their asses through court. Sue for damages. Emotional distress! We're going take Brass' pension and buy lottery tickets with it. I shit you not!"

He walked up and grabbed her by the shoulders. "Tell me what the hell's going on here?"

She backed away from him and spread her arms wide. "What the hell do you think? Where's your shoes, Grissom? Got your phone? How about your wallet?"

He was looking past her at the empty spot on the ground where his shoes had been not five minutes earlier.

"Want the scoop?" She was waving a letter in front of his face. He snatched it from her. "Read it aloud, Griss. It's a classic."

He took his glasses off and put them on the kitchen island next to him. He arched an eyebrow at her, and then started reading.

Dear Gil and Sara,

I am sure that you are surprised by the events unfolding around you. Nothing sinister. The gang and I thought that the two of you could use a little time away, and since the two of you seem to have the star crossed lover thing down to an art form, we thought we'd sort of help you work things out.

You have no shoes, no wallets, and no phones. The phone in the house is unplugged. You also probably noticed that the resort is closed. Closest highway is a nine mile walk. There is an emergency alarm in the closet for local fire station, and they will come out if there are any emergencies. Knowing the two of you and your propensity for trouble, we thought it prudent to keep this in the house. If you get desperate, you can always call these hardworking folks out of their beds to simply drive you home. It would certainly be embarrassing, but I am sure they would understand.

"I'm going to kill him. This is an actual threat I am making on his life." Sara was pacing back and forth in the living room. Grissom rolled his eyes and returned to the letter.

We wouldn't have had to do this if not for the fact that you are both idiots who aren't happy unless you can complicate the hell out of a situation. So let us lay this out for you.

Grissom, you are a brilliant, detached pain in the ass who is scared of his own shadow if it rests next to a woman. But the truth is that you are hot for Sara Sidle and have been for some time. The whole world knows. And whoever claims they don't know, I will personally sit down and explain it to them. So get over yourself and your cryptic flirting. You will ruin her life. All of us know this. But she is a consenting adult and appears to want to risk that. So quit acting like a dork and let her make her own decisions.

Sara, you are also a piece of work who has held on to this man long past the time that any self respecting woman would. Our advice to you is this: take this weekend to figure it out. If you can't get through to him trapped in a vacation home for three days, then it is probably hopeless. We have compiled a list of men we know who have mentioned at one point or another that you are a hot tamale. We will share this list with you.

"Sounds good to me." She spouted. Grissom looked up from the letter and glared at Sara. She glared back defiantly.

There is plenty of food in the cupboard and refrigerator. We advise that Grissom be designated as chef. It took Roland two weeks to air the burnt bacon smell out of the house. Also, Grissom, I stocked the left drawer in the master bathroom especially for you.

Grissom looked up again at Sara. She folded her arms and smirked at him. "He left you 36 condoms. 36 of them! He must really have some confidence in you." Grissom squeezed his eyes shut.

Please know that this idea is my brainchild. Everyone else is playing supporting roles especially Nick who has been very surly through this entire process. No need to thank me. But I have the paperwork for restraining orders against you on my desk just in case you want to try.

Anyhoo, we are all rooting for you. Think good thoughts. There will be a truck ready to pick you up at 8 p.m. on Monday night.

Yours in some trepidation,

Jim Brass

She grabbed the letter, crumpled it up, and threw it into the fireplace. Then she turned to him, eyes blazing. "So what do we do now?"

"He only brought 36 condoms. Are you sure?" Grissom had a dangerous glint in his eyes.

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TBC