A/N: I want to give a huge shout-out and thank you to Maisy13, who made the best promo video for "The Rules." The video is on YouTube, and the link to it is on my profile page – everyone should check it out!

Thanks for reading and reviewing! I hope you enjoy this chapter.

I don't own CSI. Inspiration and some dialogue for this chapter came from episode 513, "Nesting Dolls." Okay, admit it – you just got a little excited. Hehe.

Freedom

"Sara, you're mine tonight."

"Okay," Sara replied.

Catherine left the locker room doorway, and hurried off down the hall. Sara looked at Greg with raised eyebrows.

"Grissom's giving me away now?"

"Looks like. Did you do something to him?"

"No," Sara said slowly. "At least, I don't think so." Her recent admission that he had always been more than a boss to her rolled around in her head, but she chose to ignore it. They had had plenty of normal conversations since then; surely, he wasn't trying to punish her for that.

Greg grinned. "Maybe Catherine stole you from him."

Sara laughed. "Yeah, I hear she's into poaching CSIs." She shrugged. "I hope I'll get to work with Nick and Warrick. I haven't seen much of them recently."

"Yeah, I guess we won't get to work together tonight," Greg replied.

"Hey, for all we know, you'll get to work by yourself," Sara grinned. "Once you get back from the prelim on Sherlock, of course."

Greg smiled.

"Stop being so nervous," Sara said calmly. "You're going to do great in court. It's like I said: you're a pro. You can do this. You know this case inside and out, and you know that you can prove that she did it. Just get out there and do your thing." She grinned. "If you're that nervous, we can always have Nick and Warrick stage a court scene for you. You know, so you can practice. I'll play the part of the judge."

"No, thanks," Greg grinned. "I don't see any need to be cross-examined by Warrick tonight."

"Well, then …"

"I'll be fine," he said. He smiled. "Thank you again, Sara, for everything. You're the best."

"You're more than welcome."

"Sara, you're with Catherine tonight," came a voice from behind her.

Sara rolled her eyes at Greg, then turned to see Grissom standing in the locker room doorway. "She already told me. Are you trying to get rid of me?"

"No, I'm trying to make amends." He grinned sheepishly. "I may have destroyed the face on one of her bodies earlier."

"What?" Sara exclaimed.

"It wasn't exactly my fault …"

"This was entirely Grissom's fault," Catherine said as she set Sara up with half a face.

Sara giggled. "He said it wasn't."

"Look, I had two bodies buried in tar. So, naturally, Grissom practically gets off on the whole thing, and decides to be helpful. I was grateful at first – I never would have thought to use liquid nitrogen to freeze the tar so it could be chipped off. But, then, he chipped in too far and took off half this poor girl's face!"

"Yeah, he certainly did," Sara said.

"Do you think you can make something from the impression in the tar?"

"I can try," Sara replied.

"Great," Catherine grinned. "The guys and I will get started on the other evidence. Let us know how you do."

"You've got it."

"And, Sara," Catherine said, pausing in the doorway, "thank you."

Sara smiled. "No problem."

Sara spent a great deal of time in seclusion as she worked on creating a mold of the victim's face. Her thoughts kept drifting to Greg, wondering how he was doing on his first night in court. He had been so nervous, but she had every confidence that he would do fine.

By the time she had finished her plaster mold, she was rather pleased with herself. She had taken Grissom's mistake and turned it into a lovely rendering of the victim's face. It was almost as though she were only sleeping.

She presented the face to Catherine, Nick and Warrick, who had taken a break from combing through the other evidence. Based on everything they had gathered, as well as what Hodges could tell them from the soil samples Nick had collected, Sara was convinced that the victim had succumbed to domestic violence.

"Beat up, then shut up," she said rather grimly.

"We don't know for sure that it was like that," Nick said.

Sara shook her head. "Nicky, this woman's jaw was wired shut. You don't wind up like that very easily – unless someone helped you get there."

"Right," Catherine said briskly, hoping to avoid an argument. "All the ERs take pictures of abuse victims, which means there could be a head shot of this girl in a hospital in town. Sara, do you want to …?"

"I'm on it," Sara agreed.

"Good. Nick, Warrick, head back to the clothes and see if there's anything we've missed."

"Yes, ma'am," Nick said as he and Warrick stood up. He glanced back at Sara. "Sar … I didn't mean …"

"I know," Sara said, giving him a tight smile. "I know."

He smiled back. "Good. I'll see you later, okay?"

She nodded. "Have fun with the clothes."

"Oh, yeah," Warrick said sarcastically. "Come on, Nick. Let's go to the fashion show."

Within an hour, Sara envied Nick and Warrick's fashion show. She was sure she had seen enough pictures of women with broken jaws and bruised and battered faces to last a lifetime.

She did her best to remain objective as she looked at the pictures, trying to match one to the picture of the model of the victim's face. But, after the first few, she couldn't help but see her mother in each woman's face. The memories crashed over her in waves.

Her mother was late with dinner. He broke her jaw.

She and Sara spent too long at the park. He broke her nose.

She spent more on groceries than she had expected. He gave her a black eye.

Sara tapped her fingers against the table, trying to bring herself back into the present. He was gone now, and he'd never hurt them again.

Of course, there was always the reason he was gone to consider …

She grabbed her hair back from her face with her hands and held it there for a minute.

"Focus, Sara," she murmured. "You're here to figure how who she is, not to dwell on the past."

She flipped another file open and stopped. She had found her. Their Jane Doe had a name.

Svetlana Melton.

Grissom was walking down the hall in the lab when his cell phone began to ring. Frowning slightly – this call was distracting him from getting his DNA results from Mia – he flipped his phone open.

"Grissom."

"Hey, Grissom, it's Greg. I just finished up in court."

"How did it go?" Grissom asked. He tried to keep his voice even, but he was more than a little concerned over how his newest CSI had done during his first time in court.

"Not bad," Greg replied. "I just wanted to know if I should come back to the lab or go to a scene."

"Come back here," Grissom replied. "Sofia just got back from her scene. It's a double homicide, so I'm sure she could use your help."

"You've got it."

Greg snapped his phone shut with a grin. After surviving his first time in court, he felt like he was on top of the world. He could hardly wait to tell Sara about it. She'd be so excited for him.

By the time Greg got back to the lab, Sara was gone. According to Judy, she had gone to PD with Catherine to interrogate a suspect in their investigation. Greg was a bit disappointed, but went to the locker room to change. He could find Sara later.

Just looking at Andrew Melton made Sara's skin crawl. He admitted that Svetlana – like his current wife – had been a mail order bride. He said that she had accused him of hitting her, which he never did, and that she had left town. He didn't look too hard for her – he didn't want to be accused of anything else.

Until they found something more, they had to let him go. Sara was incredibly angry when she and Catherine left PD to return to the lab. This man was obviously abusive toward his wife, and Catherine was just standing there saying there was nothing they could do. Sara wasn't willing to accept that. She would not stand by while another woman was beaten by the man who had sworn to love and cherish her until her death.

"We need to watch her," she said as they walked through the halls of CSI together.

"Watch her?" Catherine asked.

"The wife," Sara clarified. "We need to make sure that she's protected."

"Whoa," Catherine said, holding up her hands. "What are you saying, Sara? That we assign her a bodyguard?"

"Not exactly," Sara said. "All I am asking is to have black and whites do regular welfare checks."

"If the wife asks for help," Catherine said in a tone that suggested that she wanted this conversation to end.

"Well, that's kind of hard to do when you don't speak English and you're a sex slave," Sara said. "I'm sure she doesn't know her rights."

"You can't arrest someone for marrying the wrong person."

"You would know."

Sara had finally crossed the line. Catherine was ending this conversation as quickly as possible.

"If the guy's an abuser, if he killed his first wife, we will build a case and we will nail him," she said firmly.

"And, in the meantime, he can just keep using her as a punching bag!" Sara exclaimed.

"Sara, I was there! There wasn't a mark on her."

If Sara had a dollar for every "invisible" mark on her mother, she'd never have to work another day. Just as she had crossed the line with Catherine, Catherine had now crossed the line with her.

"Not that we could see, Catherine!" she said angrily.

Catherine stopped and turned to look at Sara. "You know," she said quietly, venomously, "every time we get a case with a hint of domestic violence or abuse, you go off the deep end. What is your problem?"

"Yeah, I probably do," Sara said angrily, her voice rising several volume levels until she was shouting, "and you let your sexuality cloud your judgment about men, and I'm gonna go over your head!"

"Sidle!"

Both women turned to see Ecklie standing at the end of the hall, looking as angry as Sara had ever seen him.

"Get in my office. Now."

Sara knew that she probably should have been scared for her job, but she wasn't. She was still so angry over Catherine and her lack of reaction to this case that she couldn't think of anything else. She followed Ecklie into his office, refusing to sit when he asked her to. He babbled on about her inability to control her temper with coworkers and suspects, then stated that she would have far more complaints against her if Grissom documented everything as he should.

Everything that had happened with Mr. Melton and with Catherine took the backburner to Ecklie's criticism of Grissom. Sara's temper jumped up again.

"The only reason this is your lab is because Grissom doesn't kiss ass," she said. Before she could stop herself, she was truly on a roll. "You couldn't hack it in the field so you fail your way up, you break up our team, and now you just hang out in the hallways waiting for one of us to screw up."

"Sidle, you're on one week suspension without pay," Ecklie practically yelled at her.

"Great," Sara replied.

"And when you get back, you're apologizing to Catherine."

"No, I'm not," she said defiantly.

Without giving Ecklie time to actually fire her, Sara left his office, slamming the door behind her. She walked blindly through the halls, unable to focus on anything but the rage that pounded through her. She went straight to the locker room, where she picked up her purse.

"Hey," Nick said as he walked past, "are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Sara said tensely.

Nick gave her a look. "Yeah, and I've never ridden a horse. Sara, what's going on?"

"I'm sort of suspended."

"What?" Nick exclaimed. "Sara! What happened? What did that balding weasel do?"

"It's … um … a long story."

"Sweetheart, I spend my days listening to long stories. What can I do to help you?"

Sara sighed. "Nicky, I'm sorry, but I just can't talk about this right now. Can I call you later?"

He nodded. "Just make sure you do. If you 'forget,' I'll call you."

She smiled. "I know you will."

He grinned and touched her cheek. "See ya, darlin'."

"See you," she nearly whispered.

Nick's kindness was nearly her undoing. However, she took a deep breath, and walked sedately out of the building. It was time to go home and begin what she was sure would be the longest week of her life.

Greg walked into the layout room, where Sofia was standing with a look of shock on her face. He gave her a grin.

"Working with me upsets you that much?"

"No, of course not," she said. She shook her head. "Have you heard what happened?"

"No," Greg said, frowning slightly.

"Ecklie suspended Sara."

"What?" Greg nearly yelled. "Why?"

"I don't know," Sofia said slowly. "Nick just said that she told him that she was suspended, but nothing else. She promised to call him later, but we probably won't have any details until then."

"This is ridiculous," Greg said. "I can't imagine Sara doing anything that would merit a suspension."

"No, she wouldn't," Sofia agreed. "She's far too dedicated … she'd never …" She shook her head again. "I don't know what Ecklie's doing, but it's completely out of line. That man's on some sort of asinine power trip that needs to end."

"Great!" Greg said enthusiastically. "How can we end it?"

Sofia smiled sadly. "I don't think we can, Greg. We just have to do what we can to support Sara."

Greg looked at her closely. "I thought you and Sara didn't get along?"

"I respect her as a professional," she said. "She's a great CSI, and it's stupid for great CSIs to be suspended. She should be out in the field, solving crimes."

Greg grinned. "Can I tell her you said that?"

Sofia smiled at him and rolled her eyes. "If you must."

"Grissom! We need to talk!"

Grissom looked up from his computer screen to see Catherine marching into his office, looking angrier than he had seen her in years. "What's wrong?" he asked.

She slammed the door behind her and sat down across from him. "Sara."

"Sara?"

"She went off on this suspect we had in today. Truly, Gil, it was terrible. I've never heard her talk to anyone that way. Then, she went crazy because I refused to send the police to check up on the guy's wife. Then …"

Catherine kept talking, but Grissom barely heard her. He was sure that he had discovered the source of the problem. His mind flew back in time, to Sara's first year working with him in Vegas. They had worked a case together that involved a man who had physically abused and then killed his wife. Then, too, Sara had lost control with the suspect. There had been other cases, too, over the years … He could see a pattern …

"She has problems dealing with domestic violence," he said slowly.

"Forget about the domestic violence thing! She verbally attacked me in the hall!" Catherine exclaimed. "Gil, the girl is completely out of control. Ecklie took her away to deal with her, but –"

"Ecklie has her?" Grissom exclaimed.

"Yes, and he –"

Catherine was cut off by the ringing of the phone on Grissom's desk. He made a face at Catherine and picked it up.

"Grissom."

"Grissom, it's Ecklie."

"Hello, Conrad," Grissom said smoothly.

"I need to see you in my office right now."

"I'll be there in a minute," Grissom agreed.

He hung up the phone and looked back at Catherine. She gave him a smirk.

"Received your royal summons?"

"Yes."

"Gil … you're going to deal with this, right? You're not going to just ignore it and pretend it'll go away?"

"That could be difficult if Ecklie has anything to say about it. He has a way of making sure that I don't ignore things."

"I'm serious," Catherine said. "I know this is Sara, and I know you two have the most bizarre relationship out there, but what she's done … she needs to be …"

"Punished?" Grissom asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, yes."

"She's not your daughter, Catherine."

"And she's not your girlfriend, Grissom," Catherine countered. "All I'm saying is to follow Ecklie's recommendations."

"Do you know what those recommendations might be?"

"I haven't talked to him, if that's what you mean. But, I can take a pretty good guess."

"So can I," Grissom sighed. "Is that what you really want, Catherine? Over something like this?"

Catherine remained silent, staring at him without blinking.

He sighed. "We'll talk later, Cath."

"Gil …"

"We'll talk later," he said again, and led her out of his office.

Grissom walked into Ecklie's office as though he were an executioner. When it comes to Sara's career, he might be, Grissom thought.

"Hi, Gil," Ecklie said.

"Conrad," Grissom replied. "What can I do for you?"

"Cut the crap," Ecklie said. "I'm sure you've talked to Catherine by now, and I'm sure you know exactly what's going on."

"I talked to Catherine," Grissom acknowledged. "She gave me her version of what happened between her and Sara."

"Well, here's mine," Ecklie said. "Sara was completely inappropriate with Catherine in front of the entire lab. She insulted her, she belittled her, she threatened to go 'over her head' – to you, I suppose – and, once she was in my office, she did the same to me."

"I don't understand why she –"

"You know that motive isn't our business," Ecklie cut in. "Follow the evidence, Grissom. Sara is out of control, and she's going to spiral out further. We need to take care of this problem before it blows up in our faces."

"Sara is just a problem to you? She's not a person anymore?"

Ecklie continued as though he had never heard Grissom speak. "Fire her, Grissom. I don't want her working in this lab anymore."

"Can't I ­–"

"I want her gone, Gil. You're her supervisor. It's your job to make it happen."

Grissom felt shaky as he left Ecklie's office. The mandate was very clear. The problem was going to be following it.

After years as a CSI, Grissom knew enough to hear both sides of the story before making a final decision. And, he had a feeling that once he had heard Sara's side, firing her might not be the best course of action.

It was time to hear what she had to say for herself.

Sara sat at her desk, proofreading Mary's dissertation. Mary was finally nearly done with her doctorate; her goal was to have her dissertation finished before the baby's birth. While she still had months to go, she was only halfway through the paper; she had sent Sara the portion she had finished for her review. Sara had almost no knowledge of Mary's topic, but Mary felt that this made her a better proofreader; she was more attune to ambiguous or confusing statements.

She had just flipped the page when she heard a knock on her door. Frowning slightly, she turned off her stereo and went to the door, looking into the peep-hole before opening it.

Grissom.

She sighed. Under normal circumstances, she would have been thrilled to see him standing on her doorstep. With things as they were, however, it made her heart drop as though it were made of stone. Somehow, she knew that a personal visit from her supervisor did not mean she was about to receive good news. Knowing that she needed to face him, she opened the door and tried to smile.

"Well, if you're here, it can't be good," she said.

"Can I come in?" Grissom asked.

Sara nodded slightly and stepped back, opening the door wider for him to enter her apartment. She gave him a false smile and shook the bottle of beer she had been drinking.

"Wanna ask me if I'm drunk?"

"We both know that isn't your problem," Grissom replied. He turned to face her. "I spoke to Catherine."

"Ecklie?" Sara asked, trying to swallow the fear that had jumped into her throat.

"He wants me to fire you," Grissom acknowledged, trying hard to keep the sorrow out of his eyes. Please, Sara, give me a reason not to do it.

"I figured," she sighed. Time to once again bury her feelings. If there was no work to help her … She swallowed that thought and moved on to being a good hostess. "Can I get you anything?"

"Sure," Grissom said, "an explanation."

"I … lost my temper," Sara said, giving him the puppy dog eyes that had convinced lesser men to pat her on the head and leave her alone.

"That seems to be happening quite a bit," Grissom said, determined to stay in this apartment until he had the answers that he needed. "Do you know why?" Come on, Sara, give me something!

"What difference does it make?" Sara asked, moving to stand behind her armchair. "I'm still fired."

Grissom watched her from his spot in her small kitchen. "It makes a difference to me."

He wanted more from her? Fine. Her PEAP counselor had given her plenty of reasons for her problems. "I have a problem with authority," she began. "I choose men," she indicated him, "who are emotionally unavailable. I'm self-destructive. All of the above?"

Grissom looked at her for a moment, seeing straight through her empty words. Something – something awful, something that tormented her – was lurking right below the surface of Sara's false bravado. He would get to the bottom of this.

"Have you ever gone a week without a rationalization?" he asked.

Sara shook her head and stared at him, completely irritated.

"It's from The Big Chill," he explained, watching as she sat down. "One of the characters explaining a basic fact of life: that rationalizations are more important to us than … sex, even."

"I am not rationalizing anything," Sara said. "I crossed the line with Catherine and I was … insubordinate to Ecklie." Oh, how it killed her to admit that. She still felt that Ecklie had had her words coming for a long time.

"Why?" Grissom asked.

"Leave it alone," Sara said quickly, shaking her head and refusing to make eye contact.

"No, Sara," Grissom said.

She finally looked up at him. "What do you want from me?"

"I want to know why you're so angry."

"Grissom, you don't … you have no idea …"

"Make me understand," he said, finally leaving his post holding up the counter to join her. He sat down on the couch and looked at her intensely. "I know that you were heartbroken over those little boys, but you wouldn't talk to me about it. And that was okay, because it seemed like you were dealing with it fine. But, this time … Sara, you're not dealing with this. Not if you're blowing up at Catherine in the middle of the lab."

"Not dealing with what?" she asked.

"That's what I need to know," he said urgently. "Please, Sara, let me help you."

"Griss…"

He drew a deep breath. "Tell me why the domestic violence cases bother you so much."

Her head jerked up to look at him. "What?"

"We've worked together for a long time," he said. "I can see the pattern. I just … I want to know why."

"Cases with kids bother you."

"Yes, they do," he agreed. "But, they don't take me to the places that the domestic cases take you."

She heaved a great sigh as she made her decision. "Christina told me to tell you about this ages ago."

"About what?"

"My past," she said. "My family."

"Will you?" he asked.

She nodded slowly. "My … father … was abusive," she said slowly. "He would hit my mother for … any reason, really. He didn't hit me as much. Just every once in awhile." She swallowed. "He was so strong. My mom … he would break her nose, her jaw … give her black eyes and bruises. He broke her arms … Once he broke her fingers for taking money without asking."

If he were honest with himself, Grissom knew that he had expected something like this. Still, though, to hear her talking about her parents in such a way broke his heart. He wanted to say something comforting, to touch her, but he refrained. He knew that she needed to talk, and so he let her continue.

"One night, they got into an argument because … I think it was because she wanted to take me to visit her sister in Los Angeles. My aunt was sick … she had cancer … and we didn't know how much longer she had. But, he said no.

"For once, she really, truly stood up to him. She screamed at him as much as he screamed at her. Then, he started hitting her.

"I could hear it," she continued. "I was in my room … it was next-door to theirs. I could hear the screaming, the physical fight … I didn't know exactly what was happening, though …"

Grissom closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, he was shocked to see how composed she seemed.

"I finally went to their room when all the sound stopped. My mom was just standing there, over his body, holding this bloody knife. She looked at me … and it was like she slipped into shock or something. 'Call 911, Sara,' she said. 'Daddy had an accident.'" She shook her head. "You know, I must have called 911, but I don't really remember it. That's the last clear memory I have."

Grissom wanted desperately to say something, but again, remained silent. He watched as she drew her knees up under her chin.

"It's funny," she continued, "the things that you remember and the things that you don't, you know? There was a smell of iron in the air … cast-off on the bedroom wall … there was this young cop, puking his guts … I don't remember the woman who took me into foster care." She looked at him as though surprised by this. "I can't remember her name. Which is strange, you know, because … I couldn't let go of her hand."

"Well," Grissom finally spoke as she lapsed into silence, "the mind has its filters."

"I do remember the looks," Sara said. "I became the girl whose father was stabbed to death."

Grissom looked at her with nothing but kindness and compassion, a look she had not seen much of as a teenager. She took a deep breath, trying to find the strength to continue, to ask the question that had tormented her for years.

"Do you think there's a murder gene?" she asked. In that one question, she confessed her greatest fear. Tears filled her eyes. She had never, in her entire life, been so open with anyone before. In that moment, her entire world seemed to hinge on Grissom's answer to her question.

"I don't believe that genes are a predictor of violent behavior," Grissom replied.

"You wouldn't know that at my house," Sara said, shaking her head, feeling a bit relieved by his answer. "The fights … the yelling, the trips to the hospital … I thought it was the way that everybody lived." The next statement was almost impossible for her, but she had come so far … she had to finish this confession. "When my mother killed my father … I found out that it wasn't."

She fought bravely for control for a moment longer, then finally broke down. She cradled her head in one hand as she cried. Grissom watched her for a second, wanting to do something, anything …

He reached out and took her free hand, holding it firmly in his. She returned the gentle pressure, clinging to him, trying to stay afloat in a sea of horrible memories.

Grissom held her hand until her spasm of tears had passed. She finally released his hand, bringing both of hers up to wipe across her eyes.

"God, I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to go to pieces on you like that."

"Sara, you're human. I'd be more upset if you didn't feel anything."

"Still," she said. "I don't think this is why you came here."

He shook his head. "This is exactly why I came here."

She gave him a slight smile. "Well, in that case, I'm glad I could provide an adequate amount of trauma for you."

"Sara, who knows about this?"

"Which part?"

He frowned.

"Christina knows about my dad being abusive and about my mom killing him," she said. "But …" Tears welled up in her eyes again. "I've never told anyone about my fear of the murder gene before."

"Sara …"

"I'm serious, Griss. I completely lost control with Catherine and Ecklie. What if … what if I lose control and go nuts and start stabbing everyone I see?"

Grissom paused and considered his words. "My dad was a botanist," he said at last. "My mom ran an art gallery. They were the happiest couple I could imagine until my dad died of a heart attack. Rarely fought, never even spanked me. American dream, right?"

Sara shrugged.

"Yet, I still lose my temper. I've put my fist into walls. Screamed at people. I once threw a coffee pot across the room because Ecklie had made me so angry. I watched it smash into a million pieces and didn't feel bad. I think we can agree that my parents didn't pass on any violent tendencies to me. Losing your temper and getting angry are human nature, Sara, not inherited behavior. And, I think you certainly have enough control to avoid stabbing anyone in your path just because you're angry."

"I know that," she said. "Logically, I can't refute it. But, emotionally …"

He nodded. "That's a different story."

She sighed and fell silent for a few minutes. "You can leave if you want," she said at last.

Grissom looked at her as though she had lost her mind. "What?"

"You came to hear why I'm so angry, and now you know. I spent the first thirteen years of my life watching my father beat up my mother until she finally snapped and killed him, which makes me a bit too sensitive to the domestic violence cases. So, now that you know exactly why you've fired me, feel free to go home."

"Okay, dear, I think we need to get a few things straight," Grissom said. "First, I am not leaving you. Not now. Not like this."

Sara looked at him in surprise. She had always imagined that hearing about her past would make anyone run as far from her as they could. It had certainly made her classmates avoid her during junior high school. Somehow, the fact that he didn't want to leave created a warm feeling in her chest.

"Second, I am not firing you."

Her eyebrows shot up. "But, you said …"

"I said that Ecklie wants me to fire you," Grissom said. "That hardly means that I intend to do so."

A ghost of a grin floated across Sara's face. "Are you sure that's wise? He's already split up our team. Who knows what he'll do to us if you don't fire me?"

Grissom chuckled. "I'll take care of Ecklie. Right now, I want us to worry about you."

A warm feeling that had started in Sara's chest began to radiate through her entire body. She gave him a small smile

He returned her smile and took her hand again. "Sara …" He drew a deep breath. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For telling me about your past. For letting me in. For trusting me."

"I do trust you," she whispered. "I trust you with my life."

He nodded slowly. "And I trust you with mine."

Grissom stayed with Sara for hours. They sat together on her couch, watching more daytime tv than either of them could normally stand. They talked a bit, but mostly sat in a comfortable silence. After her confession, Sara felt too spent to talk, and Grissom wisely did not try to draw her out. He was content to sit with her and to convince himself that she was and would be fine.

He finally took his leave, knowing that he needed to go home to shower and change before going back to work. Sara looked more than a little sad as she walked him to the door.

"You won't have enough time to sleep," she said.

"I'll get a few hours," he shrugged. "I've gone without sleep before. So have you."

She nodded. "Grissom … thank you so much. For everything."

"You're welcome," he replied. He smiled and cupped her cheek in his hand for a moment. "May I come back to see you later?"

She nodded. "I'd like that," she said a bit shyly.

His smile widened. "So would I." He dropped his hand from her face a bit reluctantly. "I'll see you soon, then."

She nodded. "Good night, Griss."

"Good night."

Grissom made it in for the start of his shift to find several voicemails, inner office memos and emails from Ecklie, all demanding to see him. Knowing that he should face him first, he made his way to Ecklie's office.

Catherine was there, going over something with Ecklie. Grissom sighed. He wasn't ready to face her yet.

Then again, maybe it was for the best. She'd be sure to hear it from him.

"You wanted to talk to me about Sara?" he asked as he entered the office.

"I haven't received your disciplinary action," Ecklie said. "What's the hold up?"

"Well, I'm not firing her," Grissom replied in a tone that invited no argument.

"What action are you taking?" Catherine asked.

"I've taken it," Grissom replied.

"I thought I was clear," Ecklie said.

"Oh, you were," Grissom said. "Now, let me be clear. Sara's behavior is a direct result of my management."

"So, I should fire you?" Ecklie asked.

"But you won't," Grissom said.

"Look, Gil, I've been there. We're human. We get attached to people, we try to fix their problems. It doesn't work."

"She's a great criminalist, Conrad, and I need her."

"I'm sure you do," Ecklie said, getting up from his chair. "You know what? She's a loose cannon with a gun, and she's all yours."

He stalked out of the room, leaving Grissom alone with Catherine. She looked up at him, her expression leaving no question as to how she felt.

"Catherine, I …"

"Save it," she said, standing up. She shook her head. "You know, Gil, we've been friends and colleagues for a long time … longer than she's even been out of college. We've always stood together in the past. I just … I thought that you would have my back on this."

"This has nothing to do with you and me and our friendship," Grissom said. "This is about Sara and her …"

"And her what?" Catherine asked angrily. "Her ability to blow her boss?"

Grissom looked as though Catherine had slapped him across the face. "Is that all you think of her? Is that all you think of me?"

"No, I … Gil, I'm sorry. That was across the line."

"Really?" he asked sarcastically. He turned to walk away, pausing in the doorway. "You know, Catherine, I'd expect a bit more sensitivity from the woman who was so upset over a subordinate insulting her at work."

He walked out of the room, leaving Catherine feeling terrible.