"Sara, wait!"

There was urgency in Greg's voice, urgency and fear. He caught up with her at a jog, and swivelling round braced himself against impact as he stopped right in front of her. Sara reluctantly brought the chair to a stop, only just avoiding bumping into his legs.

Greg's eyes narrowed as they lifted to a point beyond her and then back down to her face. "This is the back way out," he stated with puzzlement. "Where are you going?"

"We haven't got time for this, Greg," she said with impatience.

"We're going to make time." His tone was firm, decisive.

Sara's eyes flicked to the camera ball recording their movement. She took a deep breath, willing herself to stay calm and not give the game away to the people most certainly monitoring her every moves, and refocused on Greg. Her tone was firmer. "Not here."

"I'm not moving until you tell me," he stated levelly, not budging from in front of her.

Her chin lifted defiantly. "I'm going to go find Grissom."

Greg's face fell and he blew out a deep breath. "And where are you going to look, huh? Brass and Catherine are on the case," he said earnestly. "They've already checked all the obvious places." He caught himself, aiming for a lighter tone. "Besides, I'm sure there's a simple explanation for his disappearance. Maybe the battery on his cell ran out, or he left it behind somewhere. Or he's simply out of range. The reception's not so good out there in the desert."

Sara gave a sigh of impatience at his diversionary tactics, however well-meaning they were. "Something's happened to him, Greg, and you know it."

Greg opened his mouth but no words came out. "Let's get back to your room," he tried again, softly. "I'll call Catherine and get an update. She's at the townhouse, checking things there."

Sara shook her head resolutely. "This isn't up for negotiation, Greg. I can't be here when he's out there."

"Sara―"

The tears threatened to come again. "You don't understand," she snapped tersely, cutting him short. She stared at him intently as she tried to convey the urgency of the situation and enunciated each word as clearly as her current anxious state allowed. "I can't stay here, Greg. I can't stay here when he's out there, hurt."

Greg's eyes narrowed suddenly. "How do you know he's hurt?"

Her face darkened and she clamped her jaw shut.

He sighed. "Sara, you going out there isn't a good idea."

"Either you move, or I'll run you over. But I'm doing this."

"No, Sara. I won't let you. I'm sorry, but I can't let you do this."

"Why not?" she challenged heatedly. "Give me a good reason why I can't. And don't you dare mention my disabilities."

"I'm calling Brass," he said. "He'll talk some sense into you."

"He's here?" she asked with surprise.

"Yeah," Greg said in a sigh. "He's out front talking to…your doctor."

Why would Brass be here instead of looking for Grissom, she wondered, and why would he be talking to Dr Williamson?

"I tell you what," Greg tried again. "Why don't we go and see him? I'm sure he'll have some news."

Sara gave a shake of the head. Her anger and determination returned. "No."

Greg stared at her with a mixture of disbelief and frustration. "Sara, it's not safe," he said and sighed, then took a deep breath. "Out there isn't safe for you."

"Because I'm in a wheelchair."

His eyes scrunched shut in exasperation. "No, of course not."

"Then, tell me the truth. Why isn't it safe for me to go out there?"

Greg held her stare levelly for a moment before dropping his eyes to the floor.

"Don't bother," she said. "I know anyway."

His head whipped up, his eyes meeting hers questioningly, but she flicked the lever on the chair, surging forward and Greg had no choice but to jump back out of the way. "How are you going to get there," he asked, taking off at a jog after her, "wherever there is?"

Sara didn't answer. She just carried on down the corridor, only briefly slowing down to let an automatic door open before exiting the building and following a series of concrete paths all the way round to the service entrance at the back. She stopped, scanned her gaze over the utility vehicles parked there until she located the one she was after – a certified wheelchair adapted taxicab she'd had Maggie, a new friend of hers at the Centre, call. A faint smile formed as she thought of Grissom inadvertently giving her the idea for her escape plan.However foolhardy her plan appeared to be on the outside she knew it was the right thing to do, for her and for Grissom, because she was sure that if given the chance she could help find him.

"Sara, stop," Greg tried again, his voice pleading now, "please stop. I can't let you do this."

"This isn't up to you."

Greg's expression became beseeching as he ran out of arguments. "This isn't what Grissom would want," he said, "He'd want you to stay here, where you're safe. I'll stay with you."

His words gave her pause and she blew a breath. "I'm not safe here, Greg." She stared at him intently, then gave him a small smile. "I don't think I'm safe here."

Greg swallowed, and she could tell he was giving her words the consideration they deserved. He looked up and slowly scanned his gaze over their surroundings, suddenly watchful and suspicious.

"Trust me," she said, "I know what I'm doing. I've thought this through, and I know where to go. That's where Grissom would want me to go and wait for him."

"Where?"

Her brow arched and she couldn't help the smile that curled her lip. "You'll see soon enough. Come on," she said, "We need to get moving before it's too late."

"Okay," he said in a sigh. "But you need to be totally upfront with me."

"Miss Sidle?" a man's voice said, causing Greg to whip round with surprise. "It's all ready for you."

Sara smiled, nodding her thanks. She manoeuvred the chair down the sloping sidewalk onto the waiting area where the taxi was parked and around to the back of it. The rear door was open, the platform that would hoist her and her chair up waiting at the ready. She wasn't exactly sure what to do, but there was no time to dither. She lined up her wheels, carefully loading onto the platform and the driver pressed the control, raising it up. As soon as the chair was secured Greg climbed in beside her.

"Where to?" the driver asked as he took his place at the wheel.

"3057 Westfall Avenue," Sara said in her best speech, and she felt Greg's fingers take hold of hers and give them a tight squeeze. She turned toward him, a wide grin dancing on her face. "Not bad for a person with disabilities, huh?"

A reluctant smile curling his lip Greg gave his head a shake of disbelief. "Grissom would be proud."

"Will be proud," she amended quietly, and he nodded.

"Tell me one thing," he said as the driver pulled off. "If I hadn't turned up when I did, would you have gone on your own?"

"What do you think?"

Greg smiled and shook his head all at once. "I'm glad I turned up when I did then."

"Me too." She gave a start as the taxi drove past the front of the building. "You need to call them. Tell them I am fine and with you. But don't tell them where we're going."

"Damn! Brass!" he exclaimed, snatching his hand out of hers. His eyes flicked back toward the front entrance as he reached for his cell. "He's going to kill me, and then you."

Sara giggled, and turned away to watch the passing scenery as Greg breathed a sigh of relief when he was sent straight to Brass's voicemail. Her eyes were everywhere all at once, taking in their surroundings, looking down every side street they passed, searching crowds on sidewalks or crossing the streets on front of them when they stopped at red lights, for Grissom. She knew it was futile, but what else was there to do?

"You said Griss was hurt," Greg said in a quiet voice after a moment, "What makes you say that?"

Her eyes lowering from the road Sara swallowed then turned toward Greg and shrugged. "I just do."

"Sara," Greg said in his best reassuring tone, "we don't know that anything's happened to him yet. He might have―"

Greg stopped talking abruptly and Sara gave him a small smile, guessing he'd been about to reveal more than he should. "―gone after Wallis by himself – again?" she finished for him, her shoulder rising at the look of shock that filled his face.

"You know?" he gasped.

"Not everything," she replied, "but enough to be able to fill in some of the blanks."

"But how? He's been so careful. We've all been so careful."

"Some, I kind of think I remember, the rest my brother told me."

Her words gave him pause, and he nodded his head in understanding.

"Last night I dreamed that―I had this nightmare," she went on in a sigh. The images of a beaten-up Grissom flooded her again and she swallowed. "I-I saw him as clearly as I see you now, but I couldn't get to him. He was…bleeding and unconscious, locked up in the trunk of a white car. I know what you're thinking," she added quickly, giving a nervous laugh, her shoulder lifting self-consciously, "but I…"

Greg whipped his eyes away but not before she'd glimpsed shock in them and she frowned.

"What do you know?" she questioned, her tone hardening as she realised that yet again she was deliberately being kept in the dark. "Don't insult me, Greg! And don't insult my intelligence. I'm not this fragile invalid that needs protecting! I'm fed up―" She caught the driver's startled face in the rearview mirror and when she realised she was almost shouting lowered her voice to a pleading whisper. "Tell me, Greg, please, you're my friend and I need to know."

Greg gave a deep sigh. "When you got hurt Grissom…well…he lost it, a little, and he went after…" he swallowed and she reached across for his hand, "your attackers by himself."

Everything was still so muddled in her mind, recollections came at the oddest of times, in the strangest of scenarios; sometimes they came in the night and she couldn't always make those out from her dreams, and yet the dreams always felt so very real that she couldn't help thinking they were in fact recollections. "He got taken, didn't he?" she said. "That's what I saw in my dream. And that's how he got injured."

Greg's eyes lowered and he gave her a small nod of the head. The rest of the journey was spent in silence with Sara working very hard at curbing her growing anxiety and the dark depressing thoughts that kept creeping into her head. Soon they were at CSI. The driver helped Sara disembark and Greg paid him the fare despite her insistence that she had money to do it. She turned her chair around and ran wide eyes up and down the glass-fronted building. Everything looked so familiar and yet no particular memory jumped out at her. Suddenly she didn't feel quite so apprehensive, her fears over Grissom's wellbeing slightly appeased by simply being there. She felt like she was coming home after a long journey, and she knew she'd been right to come.

"There's an access ramp over there," Greg said, pointing.

"I know," she said, and without conscious thought manoeuvred her chair inside with Greg walking alongside her.

Sara heard every single gasp of surprise, every single whisper, and felt every stare. She didn't stop to acknowledge her former colleagues. She simply advanced solemnly down the corridors, moving through the lab, following a route as known to her as the back of her hand. She stopped suddenly, her eyes locking to Grissom's office further down the corridor, its door shut.

She heard voices a little away, hushed voices talking earnestly that stood out from all the other regular lab noises, and turned toward them. Nick, Warrick and Catherine were sat at the break room table deep in conversation. Piles of documents, printouts and crime scene photographs were scattered all around in front of them and she could well imagine they made up part of her own case file. They didn't see her.

At that moment Catherine raised her hand at her two colleagues, ending their intense discussion. "Okay, the what-ifs won't get us anywhere," she said. "Let's just go through what we know for sure and work from there."

"Well, we know Wallis is behind this," Nick said. "The handwriting on the envelope matches the signature on his police statement from when Brass arrested him before."

Warrick nodded his head, piping up with, "We also know a woman is involved – actively involved – and that Grissom suspects she works at Torrey Pines."

"Or maybe," Catherine countered, "this woman knows someone who works there."

Sara glanced toward Greg and they shared a knowing look, and Sara was glad she'd insisted on leaving the Centre.

"Sofia's working through the list of names," Nick said, "starting with Caucasian females under thirty years old, but even so the list is long. So unless we can narrow it down…" his words trailed off but everyone knew what he meant, including Sara.

"What about CCTV from the lot?" Warrick asked.

"Brass is on it," Catherine replied, stifling a yawn.

"I've read over all the statements," Nick said, shuffling the papers in front of him, "checked all the info we got on Wallis and his brother but I can't find anything about a woman, besides Mc…" He looked up suddenly, McKay's name dying on his lips when he met Sara's intent gaze. His eyes lifted to Greg next to her, darkening questioningly. Catherine and Warrick looked up toward him with matching frowns then turned their heads as they followed his gaze to the doorway and beyond where Sara was.

"What about when you went to the house?" Sara asked, moving her chair inside the break room. "Did you find anything there?" She stared at Catherine beseechingly as she spoke, pleading with her eyes not to be shut out of the investigation.

After a moment of hesitation Catherine sighed and shook her head. "No, I didn't. Except for Gil's laptop which he'd left open and connected to the printer." She patted her hand to it on the table. "It's password protected, I'm afraid. I've tried all the obvious ones, but…no luck. Archie's on his way." She paused, adding tentatively, "How much did you hear?"

"Enough to know what's going on," Sara said, her eyes lowering to the laptop. She stared at it. Then frowning she stared at it some more. "Try Vanessa," she said, "Vanessa virginiensis for the American Lady. It's a butterfly. I remember him telling me once that…" She looked up suddenly, stopping in her tracks when she found everyone staring at her very strangely, almost pityingly and she realised that they hadn't understood a word of what she'd told them.

"I'm sorry, Sara," Catherine said with a small smile. She shared a look with Warrick who gave her a small shrug. "We didn't catch that."

Sara swallowed and made herself speak very slowly. "His password," she said, "It's Vanessa – vir-gi-nien-sis."

"How can you know…that?" Nick asked with puzzlement as Catherine opened Grissom's laptop.

Sara shrugged, her eyes flicking from Catherine's fingers as they typed to Nick's bewildered face. "I just do."

"Okay," Catherine said, looking up. "You sure? Because it's not working."

"It's Latin, right?" Warrick said. "Did you spell it right?"

Catherine pulled a face but she cleared the previous entry and tried again, spelling each word out loud as she typed them. "Nope."

Doubts filled Sara. She glanced up at Greg. He was watching her and he gave her a soft it-doesn't-matter smile. "I'm sorry," she said, disappointed. "I really thought-"

"Maybe Griss changed the password," Warrick suggested diplomatically.

"Or it's case sensitive," Nick said. He reached for the laptop and turned it toward him. "Let me try." A frown creasing his brow he tried a few permutations then a wide smile broke across his face. "Bingo!"

"Way to go, girl," Warrick said, a wide grin dancing on his lips. "Way to go."

"Look into his email account," Catherine said, "See what else there is in there, besides the list." She paused abruptly and turned toward Sara. "I'm sorry, Sara, but we got to do this."

"It's okay," Sara said, managing a small smile.

Greg put his hand on her shoulder. "We're going to find him," he told her quietly.

Lapsing into silence she watched with bated breath as Nick's fingers tapped away at Grissom's laptop. "What about Hank?" she asked suddenly.

Catherine smiled. "He's at mine, with Lindsey."

"There's been nothing interesting since the email Grissom received from Doctor Williamson's office this morning," Nick said, leaning back and Sara manoeuvred her chair a little closer in order to see the screen better. He paused and smiled at her, then scooted his chair over to make space. "It's good that you're here, Sar," he said softly. "I miss having you around."

"Yeah, me too," Warrick said, pushing to his feet and coming to stand behind the two.

"Check his recent documents folder," Catherine said.

Nick returned his attention to the screen and tapped a few more keys. Sara's brow furrowed as he opened a file called Torrey Pines, and she watched intently as he slowly scrolled down a long list of names and personal details of Torrey Pines employees on the page. Sara inched her face closer, squinting at the small writing, her face registering interest on recognising some of the names – all female she noticed and some of them highlighted.

Warrick read out a few names from the highlighted list. "Well," he said in a sigh, "he got as far as we did - Female Caucasian and under thirty."

"Even I know some of the women on this list," Greg said.

"Sara?" Nick said. "What about you? Do any of these names stand out?"

Sara's eyes were glued to the screen and she struggled to accept the notion that someone who had helped look after her on a daily basis for close to two months would be involved in this.

"Sure," she said darkly, "they all do the things I can't do for myself anymore." A hand fell on her shoulder, she didn't know whose, and squeezed supportively. She took in a deep breath. "Do you think he'd go after one of these women so he could get to Wallis?" She looked up and stared at each one of her friends' faces questioningly. Her voice broke. "Like he did last time?"

All eyes turned toward Greg. "Don't look at me," he defended quickly, "She already knew."

"No," Catherine said in response to Sara's question, "not this time. He told me he wouldn't and I believe him."

Sara gave Catherine a small, relieved smile. "Me too," she said in a small voice. Her smile vanished. "I just wish I'd call someone sooner."

"We'll get him back," Brass said from the door, quietly yet positively. All eyes turned toward him and he waved a CD at them before nodding his head toward the A/V lab and pushing off the doorframe. The CSI's scrambled to their feet after him. Sara didn't move.

"You're not coming?" Greg asked.

Sara blew out a breath. "I am."

When she and Greg got there the CCTV footage of Torrey Pines parking lot was already playing in real speed on the wall screen. The date and timestamp matched what they already knew. A black SUV passed the Mercedes as it crawled down aisle C looking for a space. A blue Sedan backed out of a spot further on and Grissom took it. A person wearing a ball cap, jeans and a hooded pullover sweatshirt and with their hands in the pouch pocket entered the bottom of the screen, looking left and right as they trotted up to the passenger side of the Mercedes before quickly getting in. There was a ten-second time lapse where nothing happened and then the Mercedes slowly reversed out of the spot, leaving the way it had come.

"That's all there is," Brass said in a subdued tone, "and then we lose them. The footage from the other cameras shows Grissom's car but not the perp."

"She knows where the cameras are," Warrick exclaimed.

"How did she know what time he'd turn up though?" Nick asked. "We know he was running late."

"She was waiting," Sara said. "She knew he'd be coming and she was waiting." She paused and shook her head dejectedly. "Everybody knew he was coming."

"They must have known about the list," Catherine said.

"The secretary?" Brass asked.

"Or the good doctor," Warrick chipped in.

"No," Sara said with a shake of the head.

"Same type of clothes and hat," Catherine mused quietly, "But it's too far and high an angle to get a better view."

"I can work on that until Archie shows," Warrick said.

"At least now we know he didn't just take off."

Sara's head shot up. She was going to challenge Brass on his comment when Catherine's words struck a chord with her. "As what?" she asked with a frown. "Same type of clothes as what?"

Catherine froze and exchanged a look with Brass.

"Same as what?" Sara asked again, growing impatient.

"Gil got a package," Catherine said at last. "Addressed to him and delivered by hand here at CSI."

Before Sara could ask, "What package?" Catherine had taken Warrick's place at the computer and with a couple of strokes of the keyboard retrieved the still shots of the woman who had made the drop the previous night.

Sara moved closer, squinting up at the screen. "I recognise the logo on the sweatshirt," she said in a gasp. "I mean…I think I do." She looked away from the screen and round the expectant faces in the room. "She works the early shift. Maria, her name is." Greg did a double take and ran out of the room. Sara's voice began to tremble. "She feeds me breakfast. She washes me, changes me. She's…nice to me. I don't understand."

Brass's hand dropped to her shoulder, and she swallowed. At that moment Greg sprinted back into the room, Grissom's laptop in hand. "There's only one Maria on the list," he panted while Nick moved to another computer ready to check the woman's name against the various databases. "Maria Suarez. She gave an address in Enterprise."

"Sara you're going to have to stay here, all right?" Brass instructed.

Sara nodded. Without a look to her friends crowding behind Nick at the computer she left the A/V lab, following the familiar path to Grissom's office. She acted on autopilot, her mind unconsciously remembering and repeating actions she'd carried out hundreds of times before. The door was closed, and a hand appeared out of nowhere, pushing the handle down.

She went in, stopping at the threshold, and scanned her eyes over every square inch, over every exhibit on display, his rows of books and finally his desk. She could feel his presence, his aura nearby; she could smell him all around. She closed her eyes and saw him everywhere; sitting at his desk working, thinking, talking on the phone, or standing by the shelves, smiling or frowning as he worked on his experiments.

Her eyes filled, her jaw quivered. She could see herself too, angry and arguing with him or crying with frustration over a case, but also laughing and joking, or listening to him with the same intent and fascination as she'd always done. They'd get to him in time, she told herself, and swallowed. The alternative was simply unthinkable.

"Go help find him," she told Greg in a barely audible murmur, glancing up over her shoulder.

"No," he said, and closed the door after them. "I'm staying here. With you."


A/N: I think I might have got a little carried away with the detail in the middle, I'm sorry. I just really enjoyed writing the team together. I hope it read okay.