Grissom drove straight to the long-term parking at McCarran Terminal three and after waiting for the SUV in front of him to proceed through stopped at the barrier. He powered down the window and pressed the button for the attendant.

"Gil Grissom," he called loudly when the fuzzy voice of the attendant came on, and lifted his ID badge at the camera, "Las Vegas Crime Lab. I've come to process an abandoned car. A blue Honda Civic," he picked up his notes, "Registration, 617-VBR."

There was a pause, a lot of static. "Follow the 'diamond' symbol to the west side of the parking garage, use the left hand-side lane at the entrance and head for the second story. PD's at the scene. You can't miss it."

Grissom knew that the 'diamond' side of the parking garage was generally used for domestic flights and he wondered whether this tidbit of knowledge was pertinent in this case. "Thanks," he said when the barrier lifted, and powered his window back up to keep the heat out.

Brass was at the scene, leaning against his cruiser and talking to two uniformed officers. He'd abandoned his suit jacket and tie, and wore his shirt open at the neck and the sleeves rolled up as far as they could go. Grissom pulled up, stopping perpendicular to the rear of the Honda, and got out. Brass came to greet him as he got his kit out of the trunk.

"I'm sorry for the bad timing," the captain said, "But I thought you'd want to do it yourself."

"You were right."

"Sara okay?"

"She's down to counting hours now, rather than days."

Brass smiled. "I bet."

"So," Grissom said, nodding at the car. "Another piece of the puzzle falls into place."

Brass scoffed. "I wouldn't mind so much if we knew exactly how many pieces there were." He sighed. "I've asked security to provide the lab with CCTV footage from all three entrances to the lot on the evening of the fire."

"Widen the time frame to the morning after just to be on the safe side."

Brass nodded. "I'm just a little puzzled as to why Leah would have driven to Boulder City to withdraw cash with her sister's card, and then driven back to Vegas to dump the car. It doesn't make sense."

Grissom shrugged and walked round the car. Nothing evident stood out. "Maybe she got curious and came back to check on her work, and then used the money to buy herself a plane ticket and get the hell out of dodge."

"I'll check with the airline companies when we're done here," Brass said. "But that still doesn't answer the question of why she'd have bothered driving all the way to Boulder City in the first place."

Grissom pondered that fact. "Maybe we're looking at it the wrong way and she dumped the car first, then headed to Boulder City. Maybe she never got on a flight."

"One hour's a tight window in which to do that."

"It is, but it's not impossible. Or she wasn't working alone. CCTV should give us an exact time and hopefully a little more." Grissom opened his field case and took out a pair of latex gloves he snapped on. "You took a look at the car?"

"And contaminate what little evidence there might be? You know me better than that." Brass paused, shrugged his shoulder. "I did take a little peek through the window though, and noticed the straw in the cup on the drinks holder. That should give us some DNA."

Grissom looked at Brass from the corner of his eye and smiled. "Do you ever miss working at the lab?"

"No," Brass replied categorically, and Grissom's smile widened.

"Sir?"

Brass looked over his shoulder and nodded at the officer that had called him while Grissom set to work, starting with popping the trunk open. Aside from the usual paraphernalia it was empty. Then he began processing the exterior of the car, taking photographic evidence before printing all the handles and other pertinent areas, collecting a little soil material from the tyre treads, finishing just as the tow truck that would take the Honda back to CSI arrived.

"So, what time should I expect you?" Brass asked, as the tow truck left with the Civic safely secured on the back of it.

Grissom turned to look at Brass. "Expect me?" he asked, confused.

"You and Sara. Tomorrow."

"Oh." Grissom shrugged. "I said I'd pick Sara up at lunchtime. Give the doc enough time to do his final checks and get the paperwork done."

Brass nodded. "Come round for lunch. The house is all straightened out, and I even got some food in. Healthy stuff too."

The corner of Grissom's mouth curled up. "You're still sure…about Sara staying with you?"

Brass watched his friend carefully. "You wish I hadn't offered, don't you?"

Grissom shrugged. "It's for the best, I know, but…I wish she was coming home with me and Hank, that's all."

Brass paused, nodded his head. "It's serious, isn't it? Between the two of you, I mean."

Grissom gave a soft smile. "As serious as it gets."

The look on Brass's face was warm and caring as he patted Grissom on the arm. "I'm looking forward to having her stay."

"Don't get used to it." For years Grissom had lived alone and been quite contented, but now he couldn't imagine not having Sara and Hank around. "You should get yourself a pet," he said, moving away to pack his gear back into the trunk of his truck.

Brass burst out laughing. "A pet isn't what I need, my friend. No. What I need is a good woman, and they're in short supply." He paused. "You know, I was thinking, I don't mind if Sara uses my house address for postal purposes afterwards, you know, when she goes back to work and moves in with you. It's a stupid rule not to allow co-workers to date."

"Well, it's not the co-worker bit that's the problem."

"Still."

Grissom lowered his gaze, then brought it back up to Brass's face. "I'm thinking of stepping down."

Brass's eyes widened. "What? From your supervisory role?" Grissom nodded, and Brass blew a breath. "Wow. That's big."

Grissom's shoulder lifted. Of course, he could try switching to days or swing shift supervisor if a position opened, but he hated the idea of not working alongside Sara and the different shift patterns would wreak havoc with their private life. "I never wanted to be supervisor in the first place," he said. "I kind of was pushed into the job, if you recall."

Brass laughed. "Best thing that happened to either of us."

Grissom smiled. Well, that was true, he thought. Sara would never have come to Vegas had it not been for Holly Gribbs dying and the subsequent reshuffling of the night shift.

"I made a lousy supervisor," Brass went on, still chuckling to himself.

"You weren't that bad."

Grissom returned to the lab to log in his evidence and by the time that was done it was almost time for shift. He sat behind his desk, caught up on memos and emails, assigned new cases to his team, and then with Nick's help set about processing the interior of Leah Clarke's Honda Civic. More prints were collected, as well as sweet, food and foil wrappers and a baggy of as yet unidentified blue pills.

"Sara sent me a text message yesterday," Nick said, as they filled in paperwork, "Said she was coming out of the hospital later today."

Grissom looked up at Nick over the top of his glasses and nodded his head.

"She asked how we were getting along without her. I think she misses us."

Grissom smiled. She does, he thought to himself.

"She's bummed she can't get back to work straightaway."

"It's for the best," Grissom said, keeping his voice neutral. "She needs to get her strength back first. It was a close shave."

Nick gave a thoughtful nod. "Warrick and I have a date with her this Saturday," he said, brightening up.

That was news to Grissom. "You have?" he said, frowning.

"Beer and Pizza. Well, root beer for Sara. Brass said it was okay. It's the start of college football season. Longhorns vs the Cowboys."

The pang of jealously, or was it insecurity and self-doubt, that reared its ugly head stung and had Grissom nod and return to his report with a sigh. Sara was missing her friends and wanted to spend time with them, which was normal he thought, but she could have mentioned it. The rest of shift went by at a snail's pace. Grissom checked on Archie a couple of times, but the A/V tech was making slow headway with the airport parking lot CCTV tapes.

He was working at his desk when with a knock on his office door Archie bounded in and handed him a grainy black and white still of the Honda Civic stopped at one of the barriers at the Paradise Road entrance. The date stamp was the day of the fire, the time 21.30 pm. The woman at the wheel was clearly visible and recognisable behind wide sunglasses, the passenger not so much. A wide smile formed on Grissom's face. Could Greg have been right?

"Thanks, Archie," he said, and picked up his desk phone to call DNA. "Wendy," he said when the tech picked up the phone, "When will the results come in for the bone marrow in the Heather Clarke's case?"

"A couple of days, Sir."

Grissom sighed. "I need them sooner than that." After disconnecting the call he rang Brass. "I've another two pieces to add to the puzzle," he said when the captain picked up.

"Well, I have one too," Brass said. "You first."

For the third day in a row, Grissom left the lab on time. The day was already warm despite the early hour, promising more temperatures in the high nineties. He picked up Hank from Michelle's, bought the day's paper and together they went for their long walk at the park. Back home, he made them some breakfast, which they ate in front of the television.

Grissom woke up some two hours later, startled and disoriented, his heart thumping in his chest. Hank was sound asleep at the other end of the couch. He'd been dreaming of Sara caught in that fire, struggling to make her way out, the outcome not so positive this time. Still groggy, he lowered his feet from the coffee table and checked the time, relieved to see he had another hour before he would need to head for the hospital to pick her up.

In his bedroom, he peeled his sweaty clothes off and jumped under the cooling and soothing spray of the shower. When he was ready, he threw a change of clothes in a bag, a few toiletries, his shaving kit, as well as Hank's things. He didn't think he would be able to spend the night – or the day – at Brass's place especially if Sara planned to have many visitors, but Hank would. He'd be good company for Sara, a welcome distraction, until she could get back to work and everything returned to normal.

When nearing one pm he finally got to the hospital, Sara was sitting at the edge of the bed, ready and waiting. She was looking bright but fed-up. Her bags sat already packed near the door. She looked up to him with a beaming smile, set down the magazine she'd been leafing through and got off the bed. "I thought you'd never get here," she said, moving to embrace him.

"I'm surprised you weren't waiting in the lobby," he laughed, and pressing a kiss to the top of her head held her to him.

"I worried I might miss you."

"You got everything?"

"I even picked up my prescription. Just let's get out of here. I need some fresh air."

Outside the hospital, Sara closed her eyes and blew out a deep breath, then winced at the harsh sunlight and turned her head away. Grissom set the two travel bags down at his feet.

"Here," he said, pulling his sunglasses out of his shirt pocket and passing them to her. "You wait here while I go fetch the car."

"Gil, don't do this," she said, in a mild warning tone.

"Do what?" he asked, genuinely puzzled.

"Treat me like an invalid."

"I'm not―"

"Oh, come on. You offer the carry the bags and I let you. Isn't that enough?" Sara lowered her voice a notch as an elderly couple walked past them into the building. "I didn't need the wheelchair just then, and I don't need you to fetch the car now."

Grissom sighed. "The doc said to take it easy and not do anything that's going to get you out of breath."

"No," Sara countered heatedly. "He said not to do anything strenuous, and to stop if I become breathless. That's not the same thing. He also said to get back to as normal a routine as possible." Grissom opened his mouth, and knowing he wasn't going to win this argument shut it again. Happy that she'd made her point, Sara donned the sunglasses and took a right turn down the footpath, muttering to herself, "I can walk to the damn car."

Grissom's expression brightened suddenly. "Sara?" he called, pinching his lips to suppress his smile, and when she turned round nodded his head in the opposite direction. "The car's this way."

A wide smile broke across Sara's face as head shaking she retraced her steps to him. "Don't say it."

Grissom cocked his brow, but wisely kept his mouth shut, and together they crossed two car lots over to where he'd parked the Prius. That way, he figured, if someone happened to drive past Brass's house and saw Sara's car on the drive rather than his own they wouldn't think anything of it.

"Hank can't wait to see you," he said, opening the door for Sara, and she got in. "He's at Jim's."

Sara sighed, nodded her head. "I can't wait for everything to get back to normal," she said, thoughtful.

Grissom watched her for a moment before he closed the door, walked round to the driver's side and got behind the wheel. "You heard the doc," he said, "a week and then you can get back to work."

"Yeah," Sara said, despondently, "lab work and light duties."

Grissom smiled and patted his hand to her leg. "The lab has missed you. I've missed you."

Sara gave him a happy smile. "Drive."

Grissom motioned for Sara to open the glove box, and without needed for him to elaborate she passed him his spare sunglasses. "Jim's making us lunch," he said as buckling up he started the engine.

"Do we have time to swing by my apartment on the way?"

Grissom eased a look in her direction. "Sara, I don't think―"

"I need to see for myself," she said, and Grissom knew not to insist.

Grissom slowed down as they neared her apartment building, then signalled and turned across the traffic into the parking lot, parked up and killed the engine. Sara was staring at the building, the downward curve of her mouth speaking louder than words ever could. He reached for her hand on her lap and squeezed it. With a sigh, Sara looked over at him and gave him a small smile.

"I guess it could have been a lot worse," she said, downcast.

Shifting round in his seat, Grissom nodded his head and wiped a gentle finger to the tear gathered in the corner of her left eye. They nodded their heads in silent agreement and Grissom started the car up again, headed to Brass.

"You okay?" he asked when he pulled along Brass's car on the driveway.

Mustering a smile, Sara nodded her head. With a heavy heart, Grissom released his seatbelt, then reached across to undo Sara's before leaning over her to roll it back into place, pausing for a second with his lips close to hers. He smiled at her, but thinking that Brass would have heard the car coming and was most probably watching kissed her softly on the cheek.

"We should head in," he said, "before Hank tears the place apart."

Grissom opened his door and was about to step out when Sara held him back by the shoulder. When frowning he turned toward her, she stretched over to him and her hand cupping his cheek kissed him softly on the lips. "Thank you," she said, smiling as she pulled back.

He joined her at the open trunk and took the bags she was pulling out from her, lifting his brow in a silent command when she resisted. The front door opened and Brass appeared, Hank slipping past him and tail wagging manically making straight for Sara. A wide smile on her face, Sara relinquished her hold on the bags, then crouched down and hugged and ruffled the Boxer's head, laughing and cooing as she returned his warm welcome.

Brass wore sweat pants, a New Jersey Devils jersey and a fond smile as he watched on. "Welcome to chez Jim," he said, the mischievous twinkle in his eyes making Grissom suddenly very wary.