A/N: Thanks for your patience waiting for me to update this story. Real life, among other things, has gotten in the way. I'm hoping to update more regularly for the foreseeable future.

I hope you like where this is going, and that it was worth the wait!

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are taken from episode 812, "Grissom's Divine Comedy" and its deleted scene.

Sara's cell phone started ringing as she walked into her apartment. She fished it out of her bag just in time to answer it; she didn't even have time to look at the caller ID.

"Hello?"

"Hi," Grissom said, amid a coughing fit.

"You sound terrible," Sara said.

Grissom chuckled. "Thanks, Sara. That really makes me feel good."

"I'm serious!" Sara exclaimed. "You didn't sound this bad when you left here. I thought that dry desert air was supposed to be good for the respiratory system."

"Don't blame this on Vegas. I must need you to take care of me."

She rolled her eyes. "No, you need some time to recover. Did you call in sick?"

"No." He sounded shocked at the idea. "I need to go to work, Sara."

"You need to get better."

"I'll be fine." Grissom coughed again. "I didn't call for your medical opinion, anyway. I'm the doctor of this relationship."

Sara laughed. "You're not a real doctor, Grissom. But, why did you call? Just to hear my voice?"

"Of course," he said. "And, to ask about your first day of work."

Sara grinned, settling herself comfortably on her IKEA couch. "It was … different. Really, really different."

"Good different or bad different?"

"Different, different," she said. "It's … not like a crime lab. The pace is much slower. Everyone there … gets it, you know? There's no one pushing for answers. No one rushing you. It's … serene, I suppose."

Grissom nodded, remembering the long-ago days of working in the lab in UCLA as a grad assistant. "Did you have fun?"

"Yeah," Sara said. She smiled. "I think I'm going to like it."

"Good," Grissom said. "As long as you're happy, I'm happy."

Sara sighed. "I won't be happy until you're better, Gil. Seriously, you need to take some time off and rest."

"I'll be fine," he said.

"You'll take care of yourself?"

"I will. I promise."

"You look like hell."

"Nice to see you, too, Catherine."

She sat down across from Grissom in his office. "Seriously, you look worse than you did when I picked you up at the airport two days ago. Are you feeling all right?"

"I was until you told me I look like hell."

She smiled slightly. "I'm worried about you."

He rolled his eyes. "Join the club."

"Maybe I will. What sort of hazing will I have to go through?"

He smiled. "I talked to Sara a couple hours ago. She's convinced I'm on death's door."

"Just from a phone call? That should tell you something. She says you sound terrible, and I'm telling you that you look terrible. Between the two of us and our observations, I'd say you need medical attention."

"I'm fine, Cath."

She narrowed her eyes. "Did that work on Sara?"

He coughed. "I promised her I'd take care of myself."

"Hm." Catherine shook her head. "Is there any way I can convince you to take the night off?"

"No."

"Fine." She stood up. "I'll see you in the break room for assignments."

Grissom sighed as he watched her go. He wondered what was worse: Working sick, or dealing with the two very stubborn women who appeared to be convinced he was dying.

"We've got to do something."

Catherine looked up as Brass walked into her office, closing the door behind him. "What are you talking about?"

"Grissom," he said. "He's been back for two weeks, and worked enough hours to have been back for three. He's sick, he's getting worse …"

"And, now he's infecting the rest of us," Catherine added. "Nick came in sick yesterday and looks even worse today, and Greg's been walking around in a sweater all night. I asked if he's okay, and he wouldn't answer."

Brass shook his head. "Grissom is going to kill his entire team. You know, he doesn't see stuff like this on his own."

Catherine nodded. "Time for an intervention."

Grissom turned his head to cough into his arm. He didn't want to chance contaminated the evidence, and he hated the idea of changing his gloves yet again. Despite what Sara said about the desert air being good for the respiratory system, he showed no signs of getting over whatever it was he had picked up in Boston. If anything, he felt worse. Shaking his head in an attempt to clear it, he squinted into the microscope again.

"We need to talk."

He looked up as Catherine and Brass came into the lab. Sniffling, he raised his eyebrows.

"How can I help you?"

"Grissom, this has gone on long enough," Brass said, sitting down across from him. "We're sending you home."

He frowned.

"Gil, you're sick," Catherine said, taking the seat next to Brass. "You've been ignoring it for two weeks. We don't have a problem with that because we know how you are."

"The word 'workaholic' comes to mind," Brass said.

"But, at this point, it's getting ridiculous," Catherine said.

"You're getting sicker by the day," Brass said. "You look like hell."

"And, you're getting the rest of us sick," Catherine said. "Nick and Greg both are walking around looking miserable – and, they're coughing just like you are."

Grissom sat back and sighed. "Are you two through?"

"Are you willing to go home?" Catherine asked.

He sighed again. They were right. He truly did feel horrible. Just sitting at the microscope was torture. And, Nick and Greg did look terrible. "Yes," he agreed.

Brass and Catherine looked at each other in surprise.

"That was … easy," Catherine said.

"We should have done it days ago," Brass said. "Maybe Nick and Greg wouldn't be sick."

"You do realize that I can still hear you, right?" Grissom asked, rolling his eyes.

"Well, I guess the infection hasn't moved into your ears," Catherine said, standing up. "Go to the doctor, Gil. Get something to make you better."

"And, take your time getting better," Brass said. "The bad guys will still be here when you come back."

Grissom smiled and promptly started coughing. Catherine and Brass exchanged a look.

"I guess we can call this a success story," Catherine said.

Brass smiled. "He's not out of the building yet."

"Again," Grissom said, annoyance creeping into his voice, "I can still hear you."

"So? How's it going?"

Sara took a deep breath and released it slowly. "Good," she said, smiling.

Mary grinned at her from across the table. "Good," she repeated. "I'm glad."

Sara smiled again. "I am, too."

"And, this is a lot of fun," Mary said. "I didn't even realize how much I missed having lunch on campus with you."

Sara laughed. "It's just like being undergrads again, right?"

"Sara, please. We're in a much nicer place than we would have been as undergrads. This is just like being grad students."

Sara laughed again. "If you say so."

"Seriously, I love that we can just meet for lunch," Mary said. She smiled. "It's great having you here."

Sara smiled. "I've missed you, too, Mar." She took a sip of her drink. "What are you doing this afternoon?"

"Depends. What time?"

"I get off at four."

"My class ends at 4:30."

Sara nods. "I can wait until then."

"Are you going to tell me what we're doing?"

She grinned. "I want to get a haircut. And, I want you to come along."

"Brass."

"We've got a problem."

Brass sighed at Ecklie's words. "I know. I'm already at the scene. This man was the star witness in a grand jury –"

"No, listen, Jim. I just got off the phone with Madeline Klein. She wants Grissom to take the case."

"Grissom?" Brass repeated. "Look, Conrad, I can understand why she wants him, but he's home sick."

"Yeah, I told her that. She doesn't seem to care."

"Did you explain to her that he hasn't taken a sick day in twenty years? That he got half his team sick before Catherine and I forced him to take some time off? That, according to what he told Catherine after his doctor's appointment, he has walking pneumonia?"

"Yes, I did explain all of that. Her cell phone cut out before I could get anything else out of her." Ecklie sighed. "Catherine has the case now, right?"

"Yeah. She just got here with Warrick, Nick and Greg."

"They'll be fine. Maddie will have to deal with it."

Brass chuckled. "As long as you're the one telling her that, it works for me."

"Yeah," Ecklie said. "I …" He trailed off, then sighed. "She's calling me now. Keep me posted, Jim."

"Yeah, you, too."

With a grim, mirthless chuckle, Ecklie ended the call. Brass pocketed his phone and went in search of Catherine.

"What's up?" she asked, surprised by the grim look on his face. Even Brass didn't usually look so dire at a crime scene.

"Maddie Klein is taking this case."

"Good," Catherine said. "She's the one taking on the gangs; if this is a gang crime, I want her to have it."

"She wants Grissom to have this case."

Catherine's eyebrows shot up. "Tell her that he's sick."

"Ecklie is trying."

Catherine shook her head. "Maddie doesn't usually take no for an answer."

"She isn't this time, either."

"Well, we'll try to keep Grissom updated from home. He can still call in theories, opinions and instructions if it makes Maddie happy."

"Okay, then," Brass said. "Glad we've got a plan. I'm going to go see what Robbins has for us."

"Jim?"

He stopped and turned to face Catherine again. "Yeah?"

"That will be enough to keep Maddie happy, right?"

Brass chuckled. "Catherine, nothing keeps Maddie happy."

Maybe it really was that he was – and had been for several weeks – sick. Maybe it was that the doctor's diagnosis of walking pneumonia had given him the license to feel as sick as he was.

No matter the reason, Grissom felt utterly miserable. Wearing his warmest pajamas and wrapped in a flannel robe, he shuffled around his kitchen, making chicken soup. His mother had always sworn by it; he sincerely hoped it would make him feel better.

Hank seemed to know he was sick. He followed his master around the house as if to keep an eye on him, settling in front of the stove while Grissom stirred his soup. Grissom glanced down at him and smiled slightly.

He paused in his stirring to test the soup. His mother would have a fit to see him using the same spoon to stir the soup and taste it, but he was the only one eating it so he didn't think the germs would matter. The soup needed something …

His cell phone rang, interrupting the process. He glanced down at and closed his eyes. Ecklie.

Putting down his spoon, he picked up the phone. "Grissom," he said.

"Hi, Gil," Ecklie said. "Feeling any better?"

"No," Grissom replied honestly.

Ecklie sighed. "Look, we've got a situation. I've got a dead witness in a grand jury trial to indict La Tierra."

"Catherine can take it," Grissom said, moving the phone so he wouldn't cough in Ecklie's ear.

Ecklie sighed again. Grissom's quick refusal to take the case spoke volumes about how he was feeling. "Catherine is on it now," he said. "She has your entire team at the scene."

"Great," Grissom said. "Thanks for keeping me updated."

"No, Gil, wait," Ecklie said. "This grand jury case – it's Madeline Klein's."

"Great," Grissom said again. "She and Catherine get along fine."

"Gil," Ecklie said, gritting his teeth at the news he had to deliver, "Maddie wants you. In fact, she's insisting upon having you take this case."

"I'm home sick," Grissom replied. "I'd like it to stay that way."

"I'd like it to stay that way, too," Ecklie said. "Look, can you … phone in a supervisory role? I really don't think Maddie is going to back down on this."

"No, she probably won't," Grissom reluctantly agreed. "Maddie doesn't back down on anything."

"Exactly."

Grissom sighed, but it made his chest hurt. "Okay," he said, massaging his chest. "I'll call Catherine and have her bring me up to speed."

"Thanks, Gil. I owe you one."

"Yeah," Grissom agreed. "You owe me an extra sick day."

Ecklie smiled. "Done."

Grissom had not had to work a case without actually going to the scene in years. It was, in a word, difficult. Catherine was fantastic about keeping him in the loop, and Maddie promised to drop by with case information, but it was not even remotely close to the same as being at the scene and in the lab.

A knock on his door signaled Maddie's arrival. Pulling himself off the couch, he went to admit her into his house. He was still wearing his robe, and made it a point to look as miserable as possible. Although he knew it would never work, a part of him still hoped that she would decide to let him hand the case off to Catherine.

"Gah, you look like hell," she said as soon as he opened the door. She pushed past him carrying a box of evidence. "I need sugar. Do you have a soda?"

Grissom shook his head slightly. She would never change. "Nice to see you, too, Maddie."

"Six months' worth of investigation," she said, putting her box down in his living room. "Two months working with the grand jury, five low-level indictments against the LATs. Why you? Because you're the only one who won't screw it up."

"My team won't screw it up," Grissom called up from the kitchen.

"Oh, right," Maddie said, putting down her purse. "Your team. Warrick Brown got mixed up with a crooked judge. Sanders ran down a civilian while on duty. Ms. Willows lied about being at a crime scene – among other things. You've got Stokes, your straight arrow – suspected of killing his hooker girlfriend." She took a file from her box as Grissom came back up with her soda. "How's the song go? You call me up, I get them out of it? If it weren't for me, you'd have no team."

"Are you done?" Grissom asked, opening the can for her.

"All right. Do you have a …?" She held up a DVD. Grissom took it from her to put in his player.

By the time they had finished watching the interrogation film, Grissom knew he had no choice but to participate more actively in the case. And, he knew that he needed to talk to the grand jurors. They needed to know what had happened, and they needed to hear it from someone other than Maddie.

"I'll meet you at the courthouse in five hours," he promised as he walked Maddie to the door.

"Thanks, Gil," she said. "I appreciate this."

He smiled. "You've given me no choice."

"What? Just because you owe me?" She grinned. "See you there."

Before he could go to the courthouse, Grissom wanted to be caught up on the more current aspects of the case – specifically, how the star witness in Maddie's grand jury investigation had died. Catherine had promised to bring over the evidence and case file – and, Grissom thought, looking at his watch, she was cutting it close.

Not that he minded. Sitting on his couch in his robe was preferable to getting off it to get dressed. He truly regretted telling Maddie he could appear so quickly. He knew that she was in a time crunch, but he felt so miserable …

He was working up the energy to get off his couch and get dressed when a knock sounded on his door. Hank ran to greet their guest with booming barks. Grissom looked at the clock over the television.

"Catherine, you just made it," he murmured.

The effort of walking to the door had him coughing again. He opened it to see Catherine carrying a large box.

"God, you sound horrible," she greeted him.

"Hi, Catherine," he said, stepping back so she could come into the house.

"Hey, Hank!" she said as the dog rushed to greet her. "Hi, buddy!"

"Thanks for coming," Grissom said, already headed downstairs with Hank at his heels. If she had gotten him off the couch, he might as well capitalize on the movement. "I've got to be in court in thirty minutes."

"Oh, okay," Catherine said, following Grissom and the dog into the house. "Is that … chicken soup I'm smelling?" She tried desperately not to laugh. Somehow, the idea of Grissom making himself chicken soup struck her as funny.

"My mother's recipe," he said.

"Really? Cute."

"I've got to get dressed," he said as he disappeared down a hallway. "Fill me in, will you?"

Grissom went into his bedroom and pulled his blue suit – the one Sara always loved – out of his closet. Catherine's voice followed him as she described what they had discovered about their victim. From the sound of it, she was moving around the house as she talked. Grissom grinned. He knew she wouldn't miss a chance to snoop. It was half training – he always found it difficult not to look through people's things when visiting their houses – and half Catherine.

By the time he made it back to the front of the house, Catherine was in the kitchen. She was standing in front of the refrigerator, holding a picture. Grissom didn't need to get any closer to know which one it was. It had to be the picture of him and Sara in San Francisco. Taken during the first year they had known each other, they both looked so young in it – and, he had to admit – so happy to be together. There was nothing else on his fridge that would draw Catherine's attention like that picture would.

"Listen, Catherine, when you're done with your investigation, could you take Hank out for a pee?" he asked. "I've got to get to court."

He hurried up the stairs. Aside from wanting to escape from the questions that were undoubtedly about to explode from Catherine, he really was running late.

"How long have you and Sara been together?" Catherine asked, holding up the picture.

Grissom held her eyes for a moment, a slight look of confusion coming over his face. He and Sara had been having problems with that very question for a while.

"I gotta go," he said, turning away from her. "Thanks."

"And, to think," she said, stopping him at the door, "all these years, I thought you were this lonely workaholic."

He smiled at her, gave her a chuckle, then disappeared out the door. He exhaled, and immediately started coughing again.

He really needed to talk to Sara about how much their friends should know about them.

"So," Mary said as she and Sara sat in the waiting area of the salon where Mary had been getting her hair cut since moving to Boston, "why am I here?"

"To make sure I don't lose my nerve."

Mary frowned. "What do you mean?"

Sara exhaled. "I've been through so much," she said. "Too much. And, now, I feel like I'm starting something new. So … I want to cut my hair. Really cut it."

"How short are we talking?"

"Maybe … chin length?" Sara said, holding up her hands to her face to cut off her hair.

"That's like … inches, Sar," Mary said, her eyes betraying her nervousness. "Are you sure?"

Sara nodded. "I'm sure."

"Sara?"

Both women looked up at the trendy stylist who was smiling at them.

"That's me," Sara said, standing up.

The woman smiled. "I'm Kate," she said.

Sara grinned. "Perfect."

Who better than a woman with a variation of Catherine's name to help her enter this new phase of her life?

"Can my friend come back, too?"

"Sure," Kate said easily. "The station next to mine is empty right now, so you can sit and chat while I work."

"Great."

They went back to Kate's station, and Sara sat down in the chair. Kate immediately began playing with Sara's hair.

"So," she said, "what are we going to do today?"

"I want to make it shorter," Sara said.

"Shorter," she replied. "How much?"

"Chin length?"

"You've got it. How about color?"

Sara watched as strands of her hair fell through Kate's fingers. The highlights were mostly natural – a reminder of her life in Las Vegas.

"I want to go to my natural color," she said. "Deep, deep brown."

"And the highlights?"

Sara shook her head. "I want them gone."

Kate frowned slightly as she concentrated. "Okay," she said at last. "I'm going to use a couple different shades of brown, just to give you some depth, okay?"

"Sure," Sara said. "As long as the blond is gone."

"You've got it. I'm going to go mix up some color, and I'll be right back."

Mary looked at Sara with a somewhat bemused smile as Kate walked away.

"What?" Sara asked.

"This is so weird – it's like a break up reaction without the break up."

Sara looked at her reflection in the mirror. "It is a break up – I'm finally breaking up with my past."

Getting out of the house to go to the courthouse made a dramatic difference in Grissom's outlook. He still felt terrible, but realized that he could push through it. Not like he normally would – he knew he wasn't up to working a double – but enough to get through at least some aspects of the case.

For his first order of business, he and Warrick were going to search the home of Alvarado, a leader of the LATs. He knew that Warrick could just as easily handle this on his own, or with Catherine, Nick or Greg to back him up, but he also knew that Maddie would not be able to handle it if Grissom wasn't there. Not eager to endure another tongue-lashing about the presumed ineptitude of his team, Grissom agreed to meet Warrick at the scene.

Warrick had brought Grissom's kit along with him, saving Grissom the trip back to CSI to retrieve it. He had even restocked it for him. Grissom thanked him, grateful that Warrick had taken the time to check on his supplies.

"Hey, Grissom, I've got tickets to the Rebels tomorrow night," Warrick said as he began to climb the exterior staircase to Alvarado's apartment ahead of Grissom. "If you're feeling any better, you want to check it out?"

"I'll be in bed," Grissom said, giving him a slight smile.

They had only climbed a few more steps when it happened. Alvarado's apartment exploded, sending fire, glass and debris shooting out at the stairs Warrick and Grissom were ascending. Grissom was able to duck back under an overhang, but Warrick, a few steps ahead of him, was propelled over the railing. He landed on all fours, protected from the worst of the onslaught.

As soon as he could step forward, Grissom looked down at his younger colleague, fear etched in his features. Warrick was staring up at the flames shooting from the apartment window in disbelief.

"Are you all right?" Grissom asked, mindless of the uniforms around them who were already frantically attempting to secure the scene.

"Yeah," Warrick said. "You?"

"Fine."

Warrick grinned. "That should clear out your head for you, huh?"

Grissom shook his head and smiled slightly. "Yeah."

Warrick stood up gingerly. "Alvarado is one crazy-connected gang leader, but still … How could he blow up his place from inside a prison cell?"

"That," Grissom said, "is what we're going to find out."

"Okay," Kate said, putting a finishing coat of shine spray on Sara's hair. She turned her chair to face the mirror. "What do you think?"

Sara's jaw dropped as she looked at her reflection. "Oh … my …"

"Do you like it?" Kate asked.

Sara's hands went to her hair, playing with the short layers that had a nice curl to them. "I've never seen it curl so easily before."

"Yeah, when I took off the length, it made it easier for the natural curl to bounce up."

Sara nodded, swallowing. It was shorter than she had imagined, that was for sure. But …

"I like it," she said with a grin. "It's so … different. I've never had it cut like this before."

Kate grinned. "I'm glad you like it." She began to play with it. "You can just let it dry, and it'll look an awful lot like this. Of course, this is more precise, because I used a diffuser on it – you can do that, too."

Sara nodded. "Thank you," she said, already imagining how it would look if she straightened it. "This is great."

"You're welcome."

After Sara had paid for her cut and color and left Kate a nice tip, she and Mary walked out to the parking lot together. Mary reached over to play with Sara's newly-cut hair.

"Did you realize it would be this short?" she asked.

"No," Sara said. "Not at all."

"But … do you really like it, or were you just being nice?"

Sara smiled. "I really like it."

"Good," Mary said, smiling with her. "I do, too."

Finally, finally, finally, the case was solved. The star witness' death was a tragic accident brought about by a nervous father-in-law, and Alvarado had been passing information to the outside world through messages written in books in urine.

Grissom wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep, but Maddie had to be informed of the case's ending. He sat with in her in an empty courtroom, going over every last detail.

"I guess now I owe you one," she said at last.

Grissom smiled. "I don't keep score, Madeline."

"You know what, Gilbert? You're the only man I know who's never let me down. Which means, you're either a classic enabler, or my soul mate." She gave him a smile, then looked down.

Grissom smiled slightly back at her. "After what you said about my team, enabler sounds about right."

"You've got a good team, Gil," she said, finally looking up again. "We both know it."

He nodded.

"And, you've got a soul mate," she said, her voice so soft that he could barely hear her. "We both know that, too."

Grissom smiled. "Yes," he agreed. "I do."

Walking the dog was usually one of Grissom's favorite chores. However, after everything he had been through, he truly just wanted to sleep. But, Hank would not understand his master's needs, nor would he put them above his own. So, Grissom took him on his walk, and was utterly exhausted by the time he got home.

Hank ran down the steps to the kitchen as soon as they got into the house, but Grissom only made it as far as the couch. He sank down and let his head drop into his hand, his intention being to regain enough strength to make it all the way to the bedroom.

He had only been sitting for a few moments when his phone rang. Not again! Praying that Ecklie wasn't calling him to another scene, he picked up the phone that he had purposely not taken on his walk with Hank.

As he read the name on the display, a weight seemed to lift off his shoulders. He reclined on the couch, smiling as he pulled the phone to his ear.

"Hi," he said.

"You sound so much better," Sara said, relief evident in her voice. "In fact, so much better that I think you should come back to Boston – I just got a new bookcase from IKEA that I need help getting together."

Grissom chuckled. "I think I just got worse again."

"Funny," Sara said. "Did you get some time off? I feel like I haven't talked to you in a week."

"It's been about that," Grissom said. "I did get a couple days before I got called in on a case."

Sara rolled her eyes even though Grissom couldn't see it. "No wonder you think they can't survive without you."

"Madeline Klein wanted me."

"She's always wanted you," Sara said, a hint of dislike for Maddie edging into her voice. Although not a jealous person by nature, Sara had never appreciated the way Maddie acted around Grissom.

"Sara."

"Gilbert," she mimicked his tone. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah," he sighed.

She pushed Maddie out of her thoughts and the conversation. "So, how was the case?"

"Oh, you know … frame up, gang involvement, Warrick and I were nearly blown up … the usual."

"Blown up?" Sara exclaimed. "What do you mean, blown up? Are you all right? Is Warrick?"

"We're both fine," Grissom said. "We were going to search a suspect's apartment … he had other ideas for it."

"Talk about redecorating," Sara said, shaking her head.

"Pretty much." Grissom cleared his throat, eager to change topics. "Have you talked to Catherine recently?"

"No. Why? What's going on with her?"

"She's throwing a birthday party for Greg in two weeks."

"That should be fun."

"Yeah." Grissom cleared his throat again. "How would you like to come to the party with me?"

"What?" Sara gasped.

"I'll buy your plane ticket," he said. "I know Greg would love to see you at his birthday party."

"Gil!" Sara suddenly laughed. "This wouldn't be a very sneaky way of getting out of buying him a present, would it?"

Grissom's smile came through in his words. "It may have something to do with that …"

Sara laughed. "Sure. I'll be Greg's birthday present. Will you put a bow on me, too?"

"No, dear. The only one who gets to unwrap you is me."