Thanks as always to everyone reading and reviewing :)

x x x x

He took a deep breath, fidgeting anxiously with the ends of his sleeves. He didn't know why he was so nervous: Sara was still his wife – technically. He should just be able to walk in and talk to her. But something was stopping him.

He hadn't spoken to her face-to-face since before he ended their marriage. As such, he wasn't sure how she would take his presence here; especially given her current closeness with her colleagues. She might not want him hanging around like a shadow right now when she already had a fairly substantial support network.

He supposed it was only natural that Sara would have looked for comfort elsewhere, but he had never really thought about the semantics. He guessed, deep down, that he hoped she would call on him if she ever needed anything; regardless of their marital problems. Clearly, she had looked a little further out for support.

Still, he owed it to them both to speak to her. If he didn't, the guilt would eat away at him. And Catherine was right; Sara deserved a straight answer from him about the state of their relationship.

Exhaling slowly, he straightened out the invisible creases in his clothes and strode down the hall; attempting to exude more confidence than he actually possessed.

However, with one hand on the smooth handle, he came to an abrupt stop outside the door.

Apparently, he was too late. Someone had beaten him here.

He considered going in anyway, but the bashful smile on Sara's face was so bright and unfamiliar; he didn't want to be the one responsible for removing it. Surely, he'd already done enough damage.

With a resigned sigh, he dropped his hand and shuffled back they way he'd come.

Evidently, she had already made up her own mind about the state of affairs between them. Why should he intrude on that?

X x x

"I hope Jim didn't put the screws to you too much." She laughed nervously, threading the blanket between her hands. "He can be a bit full on sometimes."

"Yeah, I see that." Taylor chuckled. He ran a hand through his hair; causing it to stick out in all directions before falling naturally back into its style. "I guess he's just overprotective of you."

"Yeah." The ghost of a smile appeared to dance briefly on her lips. She could practically picture the aging detective's left eye twitching as he had interrogated poor Taylor about their encounter.

"And the other guy – the Southern one"

"Nick." Sara grinned. "Yeah, he's a good guy; as long as you stay on the right side of him."

"Yeah, I'll take your word for that." He laughed jovially, resting his elbows on the mattress.

He hadn't really known what to expect. At the station, they'd made it sound as if Sara was hanging on by a thread; and when he'd first seen her that had appeared to be a pretty accurate description.

But then she'd woken up and blinked at him with those gorgeous brown eyes, so full of confusion.

She was in pain and he couldn't deny that she had looked better the night he first met her, but she was going to be okay and that was the important thing.

Having lapsed into an awkward silence, he shifted in the uncomfortable chair and flicked his eyes back to her face. She was studiously avoiding his gaze, opting instead to play with the IV in her slender wrist. He hated needles, had done ever since he was a child; but the plastic tube didn't seem to be bothering the woman too much. Then again, she was a scientist. She probably wasn't fazed by such things anymore.

"Sara, I don't mean to pry." He coughed, touching his hand lightly to his forehead. "But, what actually happened?"

"Honestly, I don't know." She shrugged. "And no one seems inclined to tell me, which makes me think there's something important that I'm missing."

"Well, that makes two of us then." He offered a comforting smile, reaching out to squeeze her hand. "At the police station they showed me a photo of some guy – they think he hurt you."

"Really?" She frowned, cocking her head to the side. "What did he look like?"

Could they know what had happened in the hotel room? She couldn't put it past her colleagues to have worked it out.

"Brown hair, blue eyes. Average height I guess."

She released a breath, sinking back into the cushions. It couldn't have been Jack.

Not that that clarified anything. And it still didn't explain what she was doing on the roof.

X x x

With his shoulders hunkered, he attempted to make it through the station unnoticed. However, as seemed to be his MO lately, there was no such luck.

"Hey, I was wondering when you were planning on paying a visit."

Grissom almost winced, but when he turned to his old friend he wore a gracious smile on his lips.

"Jim, hi." He greeted softly, following the detective into his office at the beckoning nod he received.

Without waiting for the peripatetic entomologist to take a seat, Brass had already poured two glasses of scotch and sank into his chair.

"So, how's Paris treating you?"

"Good." Grissom nodded stiffly, accepting the drink tentatively and joining him at the familiar desk. He ran his hand across the smooth wood, drawing to memory all of the conversations sealed into the worn grain. Years of morose thoughts and personal confessions shared in this tiny office.

"It's been good." He cleared his throat, sinking into the well-used chair. "My research grant finally came through."

"Good." Jim echoed hoarsely, quirking an eyebrow. "So, you and Sara are..?"

"Jim," Grissom held up his hands weakly. He was already emotionally battered after the earlier conversations with Catherine and DB. And in light of his trip to the hospital, he would rather not discuss his relationship with Sara right now.

"You still love her Gil, I can tell you do." Brass pressed forcefully, refusing to let him duck the topic.

"Of course I do."

"So what was all that rubbish about not wanting to be with her?"

Ah, clearly Catherine had already beaten him here. Though he didn't know why he was surprised by that.

"Jim … I ended the marriage, for Sara's sake." He resisted the urge to snap at the detective, but it was getting harder with each passing judgement.

"You think this is helping her?" Jim challenged, sitting forward.

Grissom cocked his head to the side, meeting his friend's eye across the cluttered desktop.

"What do you think?"

Surprised by the question, Brass took a moment to consider it; sliding his tumbler thoughtfully from one hand to the other.

"I think she's too young to be sleeping alone every night." He decided at last, a hint of sadness clouding his stoic features. "She deserves more than that."

"I know." Gil hummed quietly, drawing to mind the image of Sara and her companion together at the hospital. "That's why I have to do this."

X x x

"Oh, sorry." Morgan did a double take, blinking at the man sat beside Sara's bed. Beside her, she felt Greg stiffen as they both recognised him from the 'surveillance-style' photographs

The brunette smiled, nodding for them to enter. She hadn't seen any of the other team members since she'd woken up. She vaguely recalled hearing their voices while unconscious, but it was all a bit foggy.

Taylor stood up, stretching his long legs out stiffly.

"No, it's okay." He smiled at the young CSIs pleasantly. "I should probably get going anyway."

"Thank you, for coming here." Sara smiled bashfully, a light blush tinting her pale cheeks.

He flashed a grin in response, squeezing her uninjured shoulder gently.

"I'm really glad you're okay, Sara."

Releasing her, he ducked his head and shuffled towards the door; where he passed a smirking Morgan and suspicious-looking Greg. He was well aware that the CSIs weren't too thirlled with him, but he hadn't had a choice about this. He had to see Sara.

"I can see what Finn was talking about." Morgan whistled once he'd left, earning her a small slap on the arm from Greg.

Sara frowned, not sure what the reference meant but quite sure it wasn't good if the feisty Seattle blonde had something to do with it.

She quickly disregarded the comment, however, as Greg moved swiftly across the room to wrap her in a hug.

"Hey, I'm so glad to see you." He mumbled against her ear. "I've missed you."

She nestled herself against his chest, revelling in the familiar feeling of being in his arms. She could hear his heartbeat, echoing through her delicate frame.

Morgan kept a fair distance, letting the old friends have their moment, before she settled herself on the edge of the bed and took in Sara's appearance. She looked much healthier than a couple of days ago, even if that still wasn't much of a compliment.

"I'm really glad you're okay." She said at last, clutching the patient's hand. "You really had us worried for a while there."

"Yeah, so I hear." Sara laughed softly. "I wish I could explain it, but to be honest I don't remember what happened."

The guests both nodded slowly, deciding not to press the issue.

"Have you seen Grissom yet?" Greg asked, taking Taylor's vacated seat beside the bed.

"No." Sara blinked, surprised by the question. "Is he still here?"

"Yeah, he was meant to be coming in to see you today." Morgan explained uneasily, her eyes darting to Greg's. "But I'm sure he just got tied up somewhere."

"Yeah." Sara agreed, clearly unconvinced. "Is Catherine still here?"

"Yeah, I think she's gone back to the hotel for a while. She'll be back in to see you soon."

"Good."

It didn't escape Morgan or Greg's notice that Sara seemed more comforted by the knowledge that Catherine was still around than her husband; but they kept the observation to themselves.

"What about Nick?" The brunette continued, shuffling uncomfortably against the cushions.

"Nick's … dealing." Greg answered tactfully. "He's kind of been struggling with everything lately."

"But he's back at the lab?" She clarified. "That's good."

To be honest, the rest of the team had almost forgotten about the Texan's impromptu 'quitting'; but for Sara it was one of the few things she remembered before waking up in here.

"Hey, I'm really sorry about you and Grissom." Greg hurriedly changed the subject, dancing his gentle hand up and down her arm. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I don't know." She shrugged meekly. "I guess I hoped he would change his mind."

"Maybe he still will?" Morgan suggested hopefully.

"I doubt it." Sara pursed her lips, suppressing a tight smile. "He can't even face me right now. That's hardly a good sign."

"I think he's feeling guilty." Greg countered. "He blames himself."

"For what?"

The sheer confusion in her voice really brought home Catherine and Finn's point. Sara genuinely didn't remember what she had done to herself.

On the drive over, Greg and Morgan had debated how much they should tell her. They had unanimously decided not to mention Jack's name, or Basderic's. But as for her accident, they never really came to a decision …

"Sar, do you know why you were on the roof?" Greg asked cautiously after a painfully long pause.

"No. I don't even remember leaving my house. Catherine said I fell." Her brow was furrowed in bewilderment, a look that was equally endearing and perplexing for her colleagues.

They shared an uncertain look, one which she easily caught.

"Guys, what don't I know?" She pleaded desperately. Catherine hadn't cracked, but she knew she could break Greg if it down came to it. From the moment he set eyes on her as a lovesick-labrat, he never could lie to her.

However, it was Morgan who actually answered, her voice filled with an unexpected sadness.

"You didn't fall, Sara." She breathed, finally daring to meet her gaze. "You jumped."