A/N: Possible hanky warning for the final scene. It's meant to be a happy interlude but…I don't know, maybe. You wouldn't believe how many rewrites it suffered.


Grissom frowned. "How do you mean?"

Brass sighed, his shoulder lifting in uncertainty, increasing Grissom's confusion. He looked away uncomfortably. "You know how you're the closest to a friend – a best friend I got and I trust you, right? I trust your judgement both on and off the field." He sought Grissom's eye.

"Jim, you're scaring me."

"Just hear me out, here, will you? This isn't easy," the captain said with an awkward purse of the face.

"Okay."

"And just the same, Sara's the closest to a real daughter I got and-"

"Come on, Jim. You're not one to beat around the bush. Out with it."

Brass began to pace again. "I am. I am." He paused, groping for the right words. "In the course of my…inquiries into McKay's whereabouts," he finally said, "I uncovered some…sensitive information concerning Sara…Sara's mother." Brass blew out a long breath.

Grissom closed his eyes with a sigh. He'd known it was only a matter of time before the truth of Sara's past came out and it wasn't surprising that Brass had been the one to uncover it.

"Did Sara ever…did she ever confide in you?" the captain ploughed on bravely. "Did she ever tell you about-"

Grissom slowly reopened his eyes, lifting his good hand toward Brass, stopping him mid-flow. He took a breath, nodding his head. "She did. She told me about what her mother did." He suddenly caught Brass's eye, asking with alarm, "Have you told the others?"

Brass smiled uneasily. "No. I wanted to run it by you first."

"Thank you," Grissom said in a sigh. "I appreciate that and I know Sara would too. You know how private she is and it's not something she's comfortable with the others knowing."

Brass nodded his head. "I know."

Grissom's brow creased with suspicion. "I don't see what it's got to do with you, though or why you're bringing it up now," he said. "Laura's done her time and is still paying the price of her actions now, but it's all behind her."

"Well, that's just it. I don't think it is." Brass let out a breath, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "Why didn't Sara keep tabs on her over the years, do you know?"

Brass's mind was easy to read and Grissom clammed up. "That's none of your business."

"Gil, I don't mean any disrespect but I am making it my business."

Grissom's face closed off. "I don't know why Sara didn't want any contact with her. How the hell should I know?" He paused, closing his eyes and taking a much needed breath. "Take you and Ellie, Jim," he went on after a moment, his voice raised. "Isn't that kind of the same thing between the two of you?"

"That's below the belt."

"Is it? You made mistakes when she was young. She didn't forgive you. It doesn't make you a bad guy."

"I never killed anyone in cold blood."

"Nor has Laura, I'm sure of it," Grissom exclaimed loudly. "Listen, I'm not condoning what she did…nor is she asking us to for that matter and the full extent of what it did to Sara we'll never know but…if you think she's involved in Sara's attack you're barking off the wrong tree."

Brass's temper got the better of him. "I don't think I am," he almost shouted. "I think that her and McKay are in it together."

"Do you have any proof to sustain that?" the CSI asked with utter disbelief.

Brass let out a breath, nodding. "Yeah, as a matter of fact I do." He watched his friend with sorrow. "They were caught on CCTV together last night leaving O'Malley's bar across from the hospital, here in Reno. They acted all pally, like they knew each other."

Grissom's head was shaking and he rubbed his eyes wearily.

"Don't tell me the thought never crossed your mind, Gil," Brass went on, "I know you and how your mind works. Come on, be straight with me."

"Maybe at first," Grissom conceded reluctantly. "But that was before I knew that McKay was behind it all. McKay never mentioned Laura's name or made any reference to having an accomplice other than the Wallis brothers. She's her own boss, Jim. She answers to no one but herself. You're wrong about Laura, evidence or no evidence."

Brass's brow furrowed at Grissom's words and then he sighed. "Once upon a time the evidence meant everything to you, Gil."

"It still does, but you're not reading it right."

"Okay," said Brass, raising a placating palm toward his friend. "Let's assume you're correct. I'm not saying you are but…for argument's sake let's assume. McKay's threat is still very real. She's coming and soon."

"I agree."

"In this respect, I was thinking-"

"You keep security to a maximum outside Sara's room. Make it visible and obvious she won't get in, that she's got no choice but to come to me. Hell, you stick arrows on the walls directing her to the winning prize if you've got to but she must come to me. Not Sara. She isn't touching Sara again." Grissom repressed a shiver of disgust. "I'll never be able to look at nail polish without thinking of that woman again."

"She might not know Sara's here," Brass argued, a brow rising worryingly at the vehemence of Grissom's diatribe.

"You've changed your tune," Grissom remarked wryly. "I'm not so sure myself. If as you say they met at the bar, Laura could have let it slip involuntarily but I'm more inclined to believe she's got contact here at the hospital…inside knowledge."

Brass pulled a dubious face. "Someone who knows that Diane McCall and Sara are one and the same? I don't think so."

"Think about it; plenty of people know, Jim. Even I referred to Sara being upstairs to the nurses. Still, I don't want to run the chance that McKay manages to gain access to Sara's room again. You leave her a clear path to get to me and I'll take care of the rest."

"How do you mean you'll take care of the rest? Like you took care of Jimmy Wallis?"

Grissom's face hardened but he didn't reply.

"I can't let you do that, Gil," said Brass, a little more calmly now. "I can't let her come to you. You're a sitting duck here with no way of defending yourself. Let me and my guys catch her, haul her ass in jail and-"

"I don't think it's going to get that far. I don't think we're going to get her alive, Jim. I don't think she'll see the inside of a prison cell ever again. I think – I know – she's in it to the end. She wanted to take me and Sara and she's back here to do just that. Let her come to me, settle her score; I'll settle mine."

Brass eyed his friend with worry. "That's not going to happen. I'm not going to let her get near you or Sara again. That's out of the question," he said tersely. He took a few breaths, closing his eyes tiredly. "Gil," he continued, "we're going to catch McKay. It's only a matter of time. We're watching her old place; we're watching Laura's. I've got men all over this hospital. She won't get through the front door."

"You're right, Jim. She won't. That's because she's smarter than that."

"We're smarter than her."

"I need to see her," Grissom exclaimed suddenly. "Don't you understand that? I need to see her."

Brass paused with shock, the frown creasing his face deep and questioning.

"I need to talk to her," Grissom went on, "or I won't ever be able to get closure. It's my only chance."

Brass let out a long, disbelieving sigh. "I can't let you do that, Gil. She's only going to mess with you, play with your head. You can have your day in court. I don't see what you expect to achieve with-"

"I've got to."

Brass's head was shaking in disbelief. "Listen, Gil, I'm done arguing with you. If as you say she's on a suicide mission then it's far too risky." He opened his hand toward the bed. "You're hardly in a position to defend yourself. She's fast with a syringe, Gil, and she…I can't have your death on my conscience."

"It's my choice."

Brass smiled wryly. "No. It's mine. I'm saying 'no' and that's that."

"It's the only way," Grissom pleaded again. "Nothing's going to happen to me – I won't let it get that far. I just want to-"

"I know, Gil," Brass cut in tensely. "Talk to her. I get the message. Well, that's not good enough."

Grissom was getting more and more distraught. "I want to make her say sorry. I need to hear her say sorry."

"But why?" Brass lamented. "What will it achieve? She won't mean a word of it and it certainly won't bring Sara back."

"Do you think I don't know that?" Grissom almost shouted, his eyes shining with tears. "Don't you think I know that?" he repeated in a small voice before bringing his hand to his face. "Don't you see it's tearing me apart already? That I'm almost half-dead inside?"

Brass shook his head, blinking away the moisture in his own eyes. "I know you are, buddy," he said in a whisper. "I know."

Both men fell silent and Brass turned away awkwardly, shaking his head at the situation.

Unrelenting, Grissom took a breath and said, "You take away security on this floor. Have Warrick dressed as a nurse at the end of the call button."

Brass turned and scoffed. "What?"

"She's never seen him. Never met him or heard him talk. He was never on the original case. He's the only one she doesn't know."

Brass heaved a deep breath. "This is crazy."

"She is crazy," Grissom said quietly. "Crazy is as crazy does," he added under his breath with a sad smile. He looked at his friend pleadingly, watching as the captain inwardly debated the feasibility, the temerity of his plan, his lips pinching in a small smile of relief when Brass finally sighed.

"I want you to stay with Sara at all times," Grissom went on before the captain could protest. "I don't trust anyone else as much as I do you with her safety."

Brass let out another long sigh and lifted both hands up by his side. "Have it your way, Gil. I give up. But – and it's non-negotiable – I want you to wear a wire."

"No. Absolutely not."

Brass couldn't hide the exasperation from his voice. "She's a loaded gun, Gil, a loaded syringe. We've got to be able to know what's happening while she's in here."

"No."

"Why not?" Brass asked with frustration. "What are you scared of? I've heard her before with you. I know what she's like, what she's capable of. I know how she rattles your cage." Grissom averted his gaze to his legs, unable to hold Brass's hard stare. "Level with me, Gil, please. What is it you don't want me to hear?"

The soft knock on his door came at the most opportune time, saving Grissom from a most awkward and reluctant answer. Brass turned away brusquely toward the window as he tried to calm his temper while Grissom bid his caller a quiet "Come in" and Laura popped her head round the door. His gaze flicked warily from her to Brass and he sighed, beckoning Laura in with a wan smile.

"I'm sorry," Laura said, "I can see this is a bad time." She tried a fraught smile directed at Grissom. "I'll come back later."

"Laura, this is Captain Jim Brass of the Las Vegas police department. Jim," he sighed and rubbed a weary hand over his face, "is a good friend of mine-"

"And of Sara's," Brass said pointedly, whipping round.

Laura flicked her gaze to Brass, her smile wavering, her gaze narrowing slightly.

Brass eyed her with an equal amount of distrust. "Sara's…well, she's like a daughter to me," he added, putting evident emphasis on the word daughter.

Laura glanced at Grissom with sorrow. "You told him?"

"No. He found out for himself. He-"

Brass raised his hand, interrupting. "Let me tell the story, please, Gil," he cut in short-temperedly. He gave Laura one of his trademark hard stares, the one he reserves for known villains and hardened criminals, and before Grissom could protest, began telling his tale, without cutting out any of the blunt honesty or sharp sarcasm he is famed for.

By the time he finished, Laura's face was in her hands and she was shaking her head in disbelief. Grissom was watching her with sorrow, expectantly waiting for her to provide a credible explanation. When pleading eyes looked up toward him, her face was as white as a sheet, her lips pinched together to stop them quavering. She swallowed the tightness in her throat as tears finally spilled onto her cheeks.

"It was her?" she croaked, her voice still full of incredulity.

"Oh, come on!" Brass exclaimed. "Give it up! Don't pretend you didn't know!"

"I didn't," Laura defended, looking at Grissom. "I swear I didn't. She just came out of nowhere and helped me into a cab."

"And after?" asked Grissom.

"Nothing, I never saw her again. She went on her way."

"I don't believe her," Brass said.

"She played you," Grissom told the captain. "She played us for fools. She knew we'd be watching."

Brass was shaking his head. "I don't believe her. I don't believe you," he told Laura. "That's twice now you come into contact with her. Twice you let her get away."

"Jim, that's enough," Grissom warned sternly. He took a breath, redirecting his gaze at Laura. "Laura," he said, "Reno's PD have got your house under surveillance. You didn't go home last night, did you?"

"No," came the small reply. "I didn't. I went to my friend's house. She works with me at the women's refuge. I stayed there all night."

"What's her name?" Grissom asked softly.

"Karen. Karen McKenzie. She lives off North McCarran Boulevard on Coronado Way."

Grissom nodded his head, remembering the woman he'd spoken to on the phone when he'd first tried to contact Laura at the shelter. "That should be easy enough to verify, shouldn't it, Jim?"

"I was a mess and she got me sober," Laura was now saying. "She got me back on my feet and then in the morning I came back here to see Sara. You've got to believe me, Mr Grissom. You're the only one who believes in me."

Grissom opened his mouth to talk but all that came out was a long despondent sigh and he looked at her helplessly.

"Warrick agrees with me," Brass countered suddenly. "With a past like hers, we can't-"

"Warrick knows?" Grissom exclaimed, aghast with disbelief. "But you said – Jesus, Jim, who else have you told?"

"I didn't tell anyone anything," Brass defended heatedly. "Not until I spoke with you." To Grissom's incredulous face he added, "I didn't tell Warrick anything, I promise. I just told him to be on his guards and keep a close eye on her." He spoke as though Laura wasn't in the room.

"I know how he knows," Laura said quietly. "Matthew told him. This morning, he wouldn't let me see Sara. We argued and-"

"It doesn't matter anyway," Grissom said wearily. "None of it matters anymore." He leaned back against his pillow and rested his eyes.

"What can I do," Laura asked, directing her words to Brass, "that will make you believe me?"

Brass smirked. "Nothing."

"What if I willingly put myself in your custody until you catch McKay? Would that prove to you that I'm innocent?"

"No."

"Jim, this isn't taking us anywhere," Grissom interjected tiredly. He sighed and clenched his eyes shut painfully before reopening them and making eye contact with Brass. "I'm tired; it's been a long day. You just do what you got to do to catch McKay. At the end of the day, I want her caught as much as you do, if not more. I've pleaded my case," he said with a meaningful stare, "and I trust you. I trust you to do what you see fit in the circumstance."


Despite his best effort at keeping awake, Grissom's eyes kept fluttering shut, his head slowly lolling to the side. Almost immediately he'd startle awake, panting as he blinked and looked around his room, checking his surroundings. The first rays of sunlight were filtering in through the open blinds and yet there were still no signs of McKay. He let out a long dreary sigh, once more forcing open eyelids that demanded nothing more than a short reprieve.

Sara's face suddenly appeared before him and he was looking at her through the flickering light of a fire. He closed his eyes willingly this time, at once transported back in time to the desert, and he smiled in his sleep as recollections flooded him. It was last summer, the week before his birthday. The night was warm, the sky clear, perfect conditions for doing what they liked doing best when sharing a night off, sadly too rare an occurrence. A night spent stargazing, lying on a blanket in each other's arms, naked, sated. Happy.

He exhaled a long breath, his head sinking deeper into the pillow as he finally succumbed to his yearning, his longing, his exhaustion. He could still feel as though she were in his arms now the heat of her skin against his, the clawing of her fingers into his back as she arched up toward him, the softness of her lips on his mouth, his throat, his chest as they made love. He could smell the wood fire on her skin, taste the saltiness of her body on his tongue as she writhed and quavered under his touch, his caresses and kisses becoming bolder as they slowly made one with each other under the starry sky and the watchful eye of a gibbous moon.

Tears of joy prickled behind his eyelids and his body stirred, cruelly awakened by a physical need, a primal desire for Sara he'd thought dead for ever since the attack. And as suddenly as she had appeared in his arms she was now dozing peacefully, nestled snugly in the crook of his shoulder. Her arm was flung across his chest, feather-like fingers indolently teasing through his grey curls, her slow steady breaths blowing tantalisingly hot on his skin. He'd smiled and keeping his eyes on the immensity of the sky above had pressed his lips to the top of her head while stroking a lazy hand back and forth over the soft curve of her breast. How long they remained like this as one with one another he couldn't recall but it wasn't nearly long enough.

"Oh, my God, Gil," she'd awed suddenly, her long slender form scrambling out of his embrace and up to her feet.

Grissom took his eyes off the sky long enough to turn his smile toward her. She was so beautiful, so genuine, so passionate. The flames of the fire danced on her skin, the night breeze blowing her hair about her face and he felt himself harden all over again. She pushed her hair back from her eyes squinting toward the vast expanse of dark Arizonian desert before taking a few hesitant steps forward, mesmerised. A shiver ran through her and she wrapped her arms around her naked body, turning and grinning.

"Look," she whispered, with a backward nod of the head.

He propped himself up on his elbow and followed with his eyes toward where she was indicating.

"Is this what I think it is?" she asked with wonderment.

He smiled and got up before joining her side and wrapping the blanket over their shoulders. "You know about cacti?"

She shrugged. "Greg gave me this…book for Christmas a few years back – it's the only plant I seem to be able to keep." She paused, turning toward him. "It's a night blooming cereus, isn't it?"

He nodded. "It certainly looks like one. From the Hylocereus genus but sometimes called the midnight cactus; most of the time an ordinary, unremarkable little plant but one night a year at around midnight it blooms and nobody knows why and nobody knows when." He pulled her closer under the blanket, feeling her goose bumps on his skin and pushed a strand of hair away from her eyes. She smiled expectantly, waiting for him to continue his explanation. "And when it does," he said catching her eye, "it's the most heart-stoppingly beautiful thing you ever saw."

They held each other's gaze for a moment and Grissom tried to communicate all the still unspoken love he felt for her. Her face suddenly broke into a wide grin of pleasure and she stroked the side of his face with a gentle hand. "I wish I'd brought my camera," she said. "I wish we could capture this moment and keep it forever."

"You don't need a camera to capture this, Sara," he'd whispered back. "Close your eyes and it's there in front of you, simple beauty for you to stare at every day for ever."

Still cupping his cheek with her hand, Sara had watched him with a strange expression on her face and he'd smiled, lifting a shoulder self-consciously. "Do you know what happens to it after it blooms?" she had asked and it was clear she already knew the answer.

He'd nodded, his face pursing sorrowfully. "It dies."

She'd lifted her other hand, framing his face, soft lips meeting his in a slow languorous kiss and now, alone in the hospital room, he relaxed into the moment, his lips parting welcomingly, his body responding in the most natural way.

Sara's soft, tentative lips suddenly became hard and urgent and cold. Her hands generally so gentle and warm turned rough and stiff as they stroked through his tousled curls, around the hollow of his eyes, down to his cheek, to his parted mouth.

He flinched abruptly, recoiling with disgust at the touch.

"Hello, Angel," her gravelly voice purred sweetly into his ear.


Tbc.


A/N: Reviews are simply wonderful and a tremendous source of encouragement and inspiration. Please, leave one. Share your thoughts and opinions about the chapter or the story even; let me know who's (still) out there reading. And thank you, as always.