A/N: Thank you to everybody for their continued support with the story; I sorely need it at the moment. RL is busy enough and now Christmas is only just around the corner. If you're reading and hopefully enjoying please consider leaving a comment; I'd appreciate it.

To say she'd been waiting would be an understatement and her heart beat faster when she heard the key card unlock the door. There was a pause and some hushed talking Sara didn't make out and her heart sank as she thought it wasn't him, but most probably the nurse once again coming to check on her. Sara watched with disappointment as the door finally opened, a wan smile forming as Grissom popped his head round it.

"Hey," he said softly, hiding his surprise and sadness at seeing her in bed behind a soft and enquiring mile. "I came as soon as I could. Your mother said you weren't feeling too well, but…" his words died in a sigh, his eyes flicking to his feet hesitantly.

The exhaustion she saw in his face pulled at her heart and unwilling to add to his worries she decided to play the situation down. "It's nothing really," she said with as much cheer as she could muster. Weakly she lifted her head off the pillow so she could see him better and gave him what she hoped was a brighter and convincing smile.

His smile vanished as his look of sadness intensified and she knew she hadn't fooled him one little bit. Pausing he turned his head toward the corridor. The small impatient yelps that ensued made Sara's ears prick up and more than explained his reticence to come in. A small light returned in her eyes for the first time that day.

"Hank," she called as loud and clear as she could before Grissom could change his mind and take the dog back to the car.

Hank gave a loud bark leaving Grissom with no alternative than to open the door fully. Straining against his short lead as he eagerly pushed past, Hank let out a series of small happy yelps at seeing Sara, but with a small tug of the lead Grissom reeled his enthusiasm back in. "Remember what we said," he told the dog in a stern whisper. Tail wagging like mad Hank obediently dropped down to his haunches by Grissom's feet.

"I'm so glad you brought him," she said in a small shaky voice, feeling better already for their presence. Grissom's wince however told her that he wished he hadn't.

Sara had woken up ill and unwell, too weak for the staff to want to move her or even attempt to dress her. Her coordination was poor and feeding had proven almost impossible, further compounding her light-headedness and confusion. Not that she felt hungry at all. She simply couldn't explain her turn for the worse after she'd felt so good the previous day and had such a good night sleep. The doctor had been called; her temperature was a little high and fearing the beginning of an infection of sorts he'd asked for a full battery of tests, confining her to bed until further notice.

Crushing disappointment had followed as she'd thought that they wouldn't be able to go to the pool or do any of the things they did at the Centre that brought her so much happiness on a daily basis. It was the first time since her recovery truly began – discounting the seizure, which although terrifying in itself hadn't made Sara feel unwell – that her spirits had taken a dive, the dark thoughts descending and talking hold making her feel low and depressed about herself and her prospects.

And instead of Grissom turning up as she'd expected her mother had, explaining that he had been called into work during the night. Laura had been cagey about the details, making a show of straightening the bed covers and never quite meeting Sara's eye as she talked, and Sara knew there was more to it than what her mother was letting on.

She'd studied her mother carefully, noticing the dark shadows around her eyes betraying her own problems and she couldn't help wondering whether Laura's subdued mood was to do with the meal and what John and Maddy's investigator had uncovered about Matthew. When asked point-blank about it Laura forced a smile, assuring with fake-cheeriness that everything was okay, and would she like her to read to her for a little while? And without waiting for a reply she'd sat down on the chair by the bed, picked up Mark Twain's The adventures of Tom Sawyer and began to read. Sara wasn't interested.

"Where is Grissom?" she asked again, interrupting Laura before she could finish the opening paragraph.

Laura paused and looked up. "I don't know," she said in a sigh, and shrugged apologetically. "I couldn't get a hold of him. I've called his cell and CSI and left messages with both. I didn't say what the matter was though; I didn't want to worry him. I'm sure he'll be here as soon as he can."

"He didn't pick up his phone?"

Laura gave a small shake of the head. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I don't know any more than that."

Laura was being economical with the truth; Sara knew that for certain, what she glimpsed in her mother's eyes only serving to confirm her suspicions that what was keeping Grissom away related to her brother. Hopefully Grissom would be more upfront with the truth, but if it was good news wouldn't Laura have wanted to tell her herself? Laura took a breath and began reading again, and Sara spent the next hour worrying before finally dozing off to the sound of her mother's reading.

Grissom hid the growing worry in his eyes behind a bigger smile while Hank's tail tapped a merry tune against the carpet. "I promised, didn't I?" he replied, cutting Sara's musings short, as he unclipped the dog's leash.

Smiling she lifted her left hand off the bed, waving it weakly toward Hank, calling him to her. His tail beat faster in response but instead of rushing to her as she expected he turned toward Grissom, eagerly waiting for his command.

Sara frowned. "This isn't my dog," she said. "What have you done with my Hank?"

Grissom gave a chuckle. "It's him alright," he said proudly, his voice betraying his pleasure at Hank's performance, "Watch." He paused, turning to address the boxer. "Hank, say hello to Sara."

Acknowledging his master's command with a joyful bark Hank stood up and trotted to the edge of the bed before sitting down on his hind legs. Sara could swear he was grinning broadly as he raised his right paw in the air toward her in greeting.

The matching grin on her face spoke volume, and raising eyes wide with incredulity at Grissom she tried stretching her left arm out towards Hank's paw through the bedrail but sadly could not make contact. She stared at Hank, willing her arm to respond and move closer, her smile wobbling when it didn't.

Grissom was immediately by her side. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," he said, "we should have gone to your stronger side. There," he added softly, lifting the bedrail before lowering it all the way, "let me help you." Slowly he raised her by the shoulders and gently pulled her arm and hand to Hank until her fingertips met his still outstretched paw.

"Hello, Hank," Sara said, blinking back the tears shining in her eyes.

"Good boy," he whispered proudly as he lowered her back to the pillow but sadly too soon as Hank let out another loud bark, and dropping all pretence at good behaviour lowered his paw to the ground before standing up on his hind legs and putting both front paws on the bed. Stretching forward he began a vicious licking of Sara's hand, causing an unexpected giggle of delight.

Grissom let out a mock-aggrieved sigh. "He's…getting there," he said, redirecting a fond smile onto Sara, "Slowly."

"Look inside that drawer there," she said with sudden excitement.

Grissom moved to the cabinet nearest the bed and opened the drawer, his frown dissipating when he discovered her small stash of chocolate. "What's all this?" he exclaimed with disbelief, taking out an open bar of Hershey's chocolate. Hank enthusiastically jumped down from the bed to join Grissom.

"Treats," Sara said simply, a grin breaking at the narrowed look he threw her.

He closed the drawer, and returning to the bed with Hank on his heels broke off a piece of the chocolate. "I'm not sure it's safe," he said. "Who gave it you?"

"A friend?" Sara replied evasively. He pursed his mouth at her and she shrugged. "It's perfectly safe. I just put it under my tongue and it melts in my mouth. It's the perfect consistency."

"And your favourite pick up," he remarked knowingly, "Not many people know that." Winking he slipped the square of chocolate into his mouth before breaking another one and bringing it to her lips. His head toing and froing between his two masters Hank let out a most aggrieved whimper.

"Not for me," she said, her eyes dropping to Hank meaningfully. His ears twitching Hank turned toward Grissom pleadingly.

"Chocolate's not good for you," Grissom said, pulling a face as he reached inside his coat pocket. "You can have one of these instead."

Sara giggled as she watched Hank immediately drop down on his behind and gobble the treat off Grissom's hand before lying down on the carpet.

"Thank you," she said, her emotion getting the better of her despite herself, "for bringing him. I needed both of you here today."

Smiling he gave her a soft nod. "Where is Laura?" he asked.

"She stayed all morning and read to me. Then Jim came and when it was time to…" Her words trailed off and she sighed, "They left."

His gaze darkened and he nodded and she could see how sorry he was that he hadn't been there. "What happened?" he asked. "Did you…have a bad night?" His voice was a mere whisper and she knew what he was thinking; that somehow his reading to her the night before had caused her to have a nightmare. He picked up her right hand and brought it to his face, placing a kiss to her palm. Then he sat down on the edge of the bed beside her, soft eyes pleading with her for the truth.

Sara shook her head. "No," she said quickly, "nothing like that." She smiled. "You didn't do this. The doctor thinks I've picked up an infection, probably at the pool, but they don't know yet. They're worried because of the…" The word 'splenectomy' eluded her and frowning she sighed.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you," he said, reaching his other hand to stroke her cheek. He was about to say more when he stopped himself.

"It's okay," she said, "It couldn't be helped." She studied him for a moment, the shadows and worry in his eyes, the exhaustion on his face and she hoped that he would be honest with her and tell her what her mother had kept back. "Tell me," she said decisively.

A slow smile of understanding spreading he gave a nod. "It's…Matthew," he said at last, biting the bottom corner of his lip. "The callout last night, that was about him. He was robbed and beaten."

"Robbed?" she repeated with disbelief. Of all the things she'd imagined… She sighed. "Is he okay?"

He nodded. "He'll be fine, but his pride took a blow. Needless to say he won't be coming to visit today."

"Did…did he call you?"

"No," he answered with a twitch of his lip, "I'm the last person he wanted to see. He got picked up by PD." Grissom paused and stared at her for a long time, visibly debating with himself how much to share. "Let's play a game," he then said and Sara's heart sank, "let's do a little detective work together and see whether your skills are as sharp as ever."

Thinking he meant a game of Clue Sara gave a dispirited sigh and barely hid her surprise and excitement when he took an envelope out of his jacket inner pocket, removing several photographs from it. Two he put face down on her lap, keeping the third one in his hand and studying it.

"What is it?" she asked, thinking he needed a little prompting.

Silently Grissom held out the picture to her and she looked at it with puzzlement at first and then more intently as she realised that it was a printout from a surveillance camera. The picture taken from overhead was a grainy black and white enlargement of two men frog-marching her brother out of a door into a darkened alley. The time stamp showed 23:46, the date was the previous day.

Sara's eyes shot up, meeting Grissom watchful ones. "You think these are the men that did it?" she asked. To his soft nod of the head she wondered, "This is the back entrance to a club, right? Lap dancing maybe?" She paused, her eyes dropping back to the photo. "Did you ask him about it?"

"No," Grissom replied quietly. "He said he didn't know his attackers and at that point I had no reasons to doubt him. Besides we have nothing to tie these men to the attack. They knew where to go and how to do it so as to leave no trace."

Professionals, she figured. Why would Matthew lie? Why protect these men? What did he have to hide? And why get beaten up over it, rather than simply removed from the club? "He owes money," Sara realised suddenly. Grissom gave her another silent nod and she refocused her attention on the picture. Her brain was working overtime, trying to put together the pieces of the puzzles Grissom had brought her and suddenly it all clicked together. "He's got a gambling problem," she said in a gasp, remembering her brother constantly referring to Las Vegas as Sin City. "Debts?"

His smile was as long and loving as it was proud that she had worked it out. "It would appear so, and not just here but back home too." His eyes dropped back to the picture and Sara took a moment to study him.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, wondering whether he was carrying out his own competency tests before the real ones that were to take place the next day.

"I need your help." He looked up and smiled and this time she saw longing in his eyes, in what was left unsaid. He missed her.

"No, you don't," she challenged amicably, "you figured all of this out already."

"Not everything, no," he said softly. "This is only the start; I need you to work out the rest for me. It's in there somewhere," he said, giving her temple a gentle tap, "we just need to unlock it."

"I don't understand."

"Trust me," he said.

Sara stared at him for a long time before giving him a nod. His eyes lowered to the other two photographs on the bed and after a moment of hesitation he picked them up and turned them over. It's funny how the mind works, she thought as her eye immediately focused on the picture on the left. She remembered the day it was taken so very clearly. Her mouth curled downward in a fond smile at the recollection of a happy day at the beach, making sandcastles. Her father had just bought her mother a Kodak camera, a fully automatic one that took colour pictures. It was before he lost his job and everything began to fall apart. Had Laura seen this?

"Warrick recovered Matthew's wallet in the alley and these were in it," he said and paused and Sara could feel his eyes on her as he watched for a reaction.

"I loved that T-shirt," she said musingly, eyes steadfast on the photo. "I loved it so much I wore it until it got so small it stopped at my belly button." Her face lit up suddenly. "Everything he had, I had to have one of the same. He got me interested in science. Everything he did, I wanted to do. I followed him like his shadow, and he let me. He was patient, gentle and protective." The last word died on her lips and she lifted shiny eyes to him.

He smiled encouragingly. "What about the other picture?"

Sara's eyes dropped to the picture he'd picked up and was holding up for her. "He's got a family?" she said with surprise, looking up.

"They're split up," he said, nodding, and shrugged. The way he was watching her gave her pause and then when he uttered a very quiet, tentative, "His daughter's name is… Sarah," she understood why.

"Sara?" she repeated shakily, her eyes averting back to the picture, "like me?"

He stroked the back of his hand to her face. "Well, with an H at the end."

Her eyes filled and worried he'd see she was upset she kept them fixed to the smiley teenager on the photo. "Does my mother know?" she asked.

"Yes," he said. "That's what I couldn't tell you over the phone last night. And I asked her not to tell you, so don't be mad at her. Be mad at me."

"I'm not mad," she said, looking up.

His thumb brushed under her right eye. "Matthew's ex-wife's name is Vanessa. I called her this morning and-"

"Vanessa?"

"Yes," he replied with a frown. "Why? Do you know her?"

Sara's eyes lowered to the picture. "That's the name of the woman I spoke to," she said in a gasp, then looked up again seeking confirmation. "She's the one who warned me against him, told me he was dangerous."

"Yes," he said, an unexpected smile spreading across his face at her recollection, "you called her last year. You were looking for Matthew, but by then he had moved out."

She frowned. "Did I call him?" she asked with disbelief.

"I don't know," he said, "that's what I need you to remember. But why else would you have called but to speak with him?"

"But what about?" she exclaimed heatedly. "He never once tried to make contact with me."

"Not that you remember," he said cautiously. "Perhaps he did and you were returning the call."

"But I'd have had his number."

"True," he conceded in a sigh.

Her eyes averted as she thought about it. "Do you think I'd have called him?"

He shrugged. "Your mother made contact with you; you had an address and number for her that you never used. Maybe you decided to get in touch with Matthew instead, and maybe that's why he's filing this suit now."

"I don't know," she said despondently, her memory loss making her feel frustrated and inadequate. "I don't remember. But I can't imagine that I would have called him, but if I did it wouldn't have been amicable." Her breathing was fast and ragged from her outburst and she took a moment to catch her breath and reflect on what it all meant.

"It's okay," he said after a moment, his voice soft and appeasing, and began putting the pictures back in the envelope. "It was worth a shot."

His remark was said innocently enough but the twinkle in his eye betrayed ulterior motives. He'd already worked it out, she realised suddenly, and now he was waiting for her to do the same. And with his guidance he thought she had the means to do it. He had given her all the pieces and he knew it was only a matter of time before she put them all together. Had he used the same methods when she'd been his student and later his CSI? Had they always shared this symbiotic ease and understanding when working alongside each other? Did they share it on an intimate level too?

"I know why you're doing this," she said, feeling an overwhelming rush of love toward him as she realised that by putting everything in her hands he was giving her his trust and some control over her future. "Thank you."

Suddenly she felt drained and spent, but very content and reinvigorated all the same, her mind awash with questions she had the answers to - somewhere. She let her head and shoulders slump back against the pillow, her eyes drifting shut. She felt him move and his fingers brush her skin, as he pushed a little hair away from her face. The mattress dipped and leaning over he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

"Don't go," she whispered, her eyes reopening a crack.

"I won't," he said, his lips on her skin, and then pulled back. He stared at her and smiled, and shifting on the bed until he was perched on the edge laid his head next to hers on the pillow.

Sara could not feel any more loved than she felt at that very moment as she let the warm blanket of sleep envelop her. Grissom took her hand in his, clasping it tight over her chest and snuggled up to her as much as he could in his current position. He couldn't have been comfortable, she thought, and yet she didn't dare move or ask him to lest she interrupted the moment.

"Sleep tight, my beating heart," she said in an inaudible breath, echoing words that meant so much to her, the only words of his she remembered and could still hear from when he'd thought her gone.