"Sofia," Grissom greeted.

He was leaning on his hands, one hand either side of Sara's torso, and turned his head to eye her in the doorway. In a flash Sara scrambled, her hand grabbing at the coat Grissom had cast aside, and sat up, drawing it to her chest.

"Hey," Sara greeted, politely.

They both waited for her depart – but strangely, she didn't. She hovered there, grinning for a moment, before staring at them with incredulity.

"Did you want something?" Grissom asked, pointedly.

"Actually, to know where you were," she admitted, still casually leaning against the barn door. "See, after you told us that you couldn't have sexual activity for two weeks, I assumed you'd disappeared because you might be in trouble, or something bad had happened –"

She peered up at them, her blue eyes clearly accusing them.

"- And now I find you in here, with Sara's shirt off, doing something I know must be impossible, not to mention highly irresponsible, given her medical state –"

Grissom took in a breath, frustrated.

"- so it begs the question … what the hell are you doing?"

Her eyes now blazed at them, locked onto Grissom, and Sara, knowing the moment was now thoroughly gone, looked around for her shirt and bra, only to see them nowhere within reach. They were, actually, three bales of hay further down, closer to Sofia. Grissom must have thrown them. She kept the coat to her chest, and smiled awkwardly.

"Sofia, it's not what it looks like," she said, trying to smooth it over. "You can relax."

"It wasn't going that far," Grissom said. "We were just getting reacquainted."

"Really?" Sofia stared at them. "Well, that would be a first. After all, your ability to stop and not have sex with Sara at every opportunity is legendary."

She gazed up at him, but there was a touch of humour shining through her frustration. Seeing the stunned look on Grissom's face, Sara couldn't resist.

"Are you done?" she asked Sofia, smiling herself.

"I think you're done," she replied.

With surprising calm, and her tone now much more gentle, she picked up Sara's tossed bra and shirt, and threw it up to where Sara sat. Sara caught it in her lap. Then she paused at the bottom of the haystack, her face now serious.

"Look, this is intense," she said, acknowledging their situation. "This whole thing. It's absolutely crazy. And I know as well as you the pressure we're all under. But at the same time the last thing we need is for you to be re-hospitalised." Her eyes bored with genuine care into Sara. "Take care of yourself. Follow the doctor's orders. I don't want to have to do this."

Grissom said nothing.

"Right," Sara said. It was oddly touching, as much as her bubble had been burst.

"Get dressed," Sofia said.

XXX

Bizarrely, Grissom did not want to talk about it – at all. While Sara was actually not that bothered, and if anything saw the humour and care in the situation, Grissom stayed obstinately silent. When they walked back to the house – Sofia far ahead of them – she looked at him, querying, but he refused to meet her eyes, and when she asked if he was okay, he said little of help.

"She's right," he said, simply.

Sara tugged on his arm and drew him to a stop, just short of the terrace. She saw Sofia head inside, checking over her shoulder, but content to leave them to it.

"What?" Grissom asked.

It occurred to her that he sounded tired, or absolutely exhausted. She wondered if he had slept at all during the night, or merely appeared to.

"Don't feel guilty," she said, keen to head him off. "It was my idea."

He stared at her, and saw a thousand emotions and memories fly threw his irises. There was pain, regret, and no small amount of love. But absorbing them all, or dealing with it, seemed to be beyond him.

"I'm perfectly okay," she said. "And we'll be fine."

She squeezed his hand, and he nodded – tired, but accepting.

"We will," he said.

It appeared to be the best she was going to get out of him, and they walked the remaining way to the house in silence. After that, he went for a shower, and another long gruelling day began. Lindsey came over for breakfast, popping over with her grandmother before school, and after that the group lost themselves in some chores, which included anything they could find that would keep them busy. They did a few loads of laundry, changed the bed sheets, and unpacked some grocery shopping, and in the afternoon, when the sun rose lazily in the sky, they went for a walk through the paddocks, relaxing, just the six of them. Sara knew without anything ever being said that all her friends knew what had happened that morning, but it was to their credit that nothing was said aloud – and that she somehow avoided a lecture.

The one thing that did happen was another talk between Grissom and Warrick, which happened out on the terrace before dinner. The sun was low in the sky, another perfect Nevada day coming to a close, and when Grissom drifted out there to appreciate the landscape, she saw Warrick follow. Catherine tugged on Sara's elbow, hinting for her to not join them, and Sara understood – the talk was planned.

Again, she left them to it, appreciating that just as Catherine preferred to talk to Sara, Grissom preferred to open up to Warrick. She had to be realistic about it – and understood that many of the things which pained him were things that were difficult to talk to her about, and things that he would have to deal with on his own. She had to trust her friends to handle it, and was encouraged when the two reappeared over an hour later, Grissom smiling and looking much more at ease. She saw Catherine peck Warrick on the cheek later, a silent gesture of gratitude.

The next thing of significance did not happen until later that night. Sara had again been lying awake, another attack of insomnia hitting her, but she had been surprised when she saw that Nick's mattress was also vacant. She got up, tugged on a gown for warmth, and padded her way down to the kitchen where she found him sitting alone in the living room, quietly watching late night television.

She made her way over.

"Hey," she greeted.

He looked up, surprised.

"Hey," he greeted. "What are you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep," she said. "You?"

"Just thinking, I guess."

He muted the TV as Sara sat down. It was a late-night shopping channel, selling costume jewellery, and Nick put the remote aside, obviously having other things on his mind.

"You okay?" she invited.

"I don't know," he said, and his expression was thoughtful. "Something my Dad said earlier, that everything has a reason. And it got me wondering, if there was a reason for us being out there, a point to it all. You know what I mean?"

Sara braced herself. Nick's parents were from Texas, and were both staunch Christians, something she couldn't honestly relate to. Sara's own private thoughts on religion were sceptical at best, but it was not the time to say it.

"I'm not exactly spiritual," she confessed. "But, you know, sometimes I wonder."

"It just seems like such a pointless exercise, if it was planned." He gazed around the room, as if looking for answers printed on the walls. "I mean what the hell was the point of all that? Sending us through all those heinous experiences. I'm racking my brains trying to figure it, what the purpose could have been. What could justify that."

"Well, if there was a purpose, a higher plan, I doubt it was to terrify us," Sara said, honestly. "Maybe it was more about what something we were supposed to get out of it, to experience."

"How do you mean?"

He looked intrigued.

Sara hesitated, out of her depth, but nevertheless determined to do her best.

"I used to read some philosophy in college," she confessed. "A bit of mythology. I used to look for answers, about my past. And I learned there are some religions out there, some schools of thought, that suggest that experiences we go through in life, aren't necessarily designed to make us happy, but are meant to improve us as people, mature our soul. Either to make us more wiser, to teach us to be empathetic, or how to love … something like that."

"You think God did this to teach us to love?"

"I don't know. It's a possibility, as silly as it sounds. That bond people keep talking about -"

"You mean that orgy we're having?" he joked.

"That's the one," she said, unable to resist a smile. "Maybe that was the goal. To change our life. To make us appreciate it. Appreciate the world, what we have. Life, love … get us out of a rut."

"Hmm."

Nick mulled it over for a moment, and Sara did not interrupt him. He rested his elbows on his knees, content, and she was surprised that it actually did seem to help, judging from his body expression. Sara had known all along that Nick was more spiritual than the rest of them, largely due to his upbringing, and he was the only one who had even thought about religion while they were away. She had seen him once or twice, looking at the bible, but had no issues with it at all if it was going to help him.

"Yeah, I see your point," he said at last.

He looked strangely relaxed.

"You know Warrick mentioned the site where we disappeared is near an old nuclear testing facility," he went on, though he looked unsure. "Something about the possibility of the tests damaging space-time, some kind of physics, I don't know … do you believe that? Sometimes I wonder if it's out there still, that mirage, waiting to swallow us again."

"It's a possibility," Sara said, then realised she needed to clarify. "At least the nuclear thing. But, you know, if this was an act of God, and there was a reason for it, I have a gut feeling it's done with us. I doubt we'll see it again."

"You believe that? Really?"

He looked hopeful. Sara was surprised by own inner certainty, certainty she had not realised she had until that point.

"Yeah, I do," she said.

"You're more spiritual than you let on, Sara."

He was smiling slightly.

"No, I'm not," she confessed, amused. "But I do believe in the numbers. And when you crunch them, they don't make sense. I mean, if you consider the odds, if this was a wormhole, some of kind rift, that we would not only all go through it together, but actually survive, it's almost impossible. What little literature there is in the world of physics on wormholes never suggests that even a pin could make it through, let alone a live human being. Or six of us. It doesn't seem possible, let alone probable. And then to not only make it through, all of us, but to survive, to make it out when we did –"

"We should be dead," Nick said, sensing where she was heading. "You're right."

"We should be dead ten times over," Sara said. "The odds were never in favour of our survival."

"And yet here we are."

"Yeah. Here we are."

"Maybe there is a higher power."

Nick was a lot more relaxed after that, and a short time later they returned to bed, their absence not noticed by the others. Oddly, the talk seemed to help him, and the next day he was a lot more chilled around his family, as if he now had the comfort of answers – or at least a theory which fit. Sara was not sure whether she believed it or not, but nevertheless did feel that the worst of it was over, for reasons she couldn't explain. She did not confess the conversation to the others, knowing she should keep it private – Sofia had once told her flatly that if there was a God, she would punch him in the head – and they went on later to have another restful day, bonding with their families.

It was the day after that, however, that she was forced to deal with her own demons, and had a mini breakdown of her own. In hindsight, later on, she realised she should have seen it coming. All the others had had their moments, and she had been sleep-deprived two nights in a row. But it was at breakfast in the morning that Dianne reminded them that they had things to sort out in Vegas – forms to sign for the LVPD, administrative things to cover. The group had now had a week of rest, and they had no choice but to nod, and agree they could not put things off indefinitely. Sofia voiced a desire to drop in on some friends at PD – including Vartann and a few others in her detective team – and the group agreed to swing by there before heading to the lab, to meet with Ecklie.

They took off early, straight after breakfast, Sara hopeful that Greg and the others would still be there after their night shift, and the visit to PD initially went well. Sofia was beaming, relieved and happy to see her friends and colleagues again, and Sara had to remind herself that Sofia was very well-connected and had many friends outside of their CSI circle. She hugged Vartann, and several others, and the group milled around while she signed the leave and insurance forms for Brass, which would officially put her on paid for leave for at least six weeks.

Sara saw during the visit that Catherine was uneasy – checking over her shoulder several times, looking through the internal windows to the corridors – and she stuck loyally by her side, ready if something happened. In the end nothing did, and they made it to the lab in one piece, where Sara got out of Dianne's SUV with a sinking feeling in her stomach – a feeling that was put there entirely by the prospect of meeting Ecklie.

"You should see the look on your face," Nick joked, getting out of the other SUV and grinning at her. "You look ready to punch him."

"Or throw up," Warrick added.

"I know," Sara said, shaking her head, daunted. "It's Ecklie …"

No more explanations were needed. Catherine nodded grimly, evidently in agreement.

"Look, I know how you feel, but he's left me six messages," Dianne replied, joining them as they gathered by the cars. "If I put him off any longer he's going to come around the house."

"Let's not risk that," Sofia said.

"Let's get it over with," Grissom agreed.

They went in. There was a brief delay at reception, where they had to get their visitors' passes – their official lab IDs now lost – but other than that it didn't start out too bad. While they waited Sara saw Catherine look over her shoulder, discretely, and as a gaggle of visitors went noisily past she stiffened, but she relaxed after Sara took her wrist. The others did not notice, and Sara held her hand for a short way down the corridor, before Catherine rallied her strength, and let go. The façade she put on after that was impressive, even by Catherine's standards, and had Sara been working at the lab she would have not have realised that anything was wrong. Ecklie met them briefly outside his office, shaking hands all around and expressing his relief, but they were saved from being dragged into his office when Dianne expressed that she wanted to talk with him first, and the two disappeared and shut the door.

Sara was surprised – and more than happy for Dianne to handle it on their behalf. She would sign the forms later. It was then that the group drifted naturally down toward the inner workings of the lab, and without warning, Greg appeared mid-corridor, having come out of a side room, his hand full of paper. For a split second he didn't see her, and then he did a double-take. His face split into a delighted smile.

"Sara!" he said.

Over his shoulder, Sara saw several other people in the lab look up, but she ignored them.

"Greg," she greeted.

She grinned, and soared forward to hug him, clutching him to her. He looked the same as always – his hair messy, and his heart open. But his hands were tentative on her back, barely touching her sides.

"I'm not hurting you, am I?" he asked.

"She's fine, Greg," Warrick assured, watching with the group around them. "You won't break her."

"It's just –" he broke away "- I know your spine was bruised …"

"I'm doing okay," Sara assured.

But his eyes looked a bit worried, and Sara realised then what he was thinking – that he had seen the photos of her back, taken by Finlay at the hospital. He had probably seen the blood stains on her underwear as well.

"Let's not talk about it," she requested.

"Sure."

He redirected quickly, and soon spun around, his grin re-surfacing, inviting them further in.

"Come see everyone," he said. "It's weird seeing you guys in visitors' badges …"

"It's weird to be visiting," Catherine replied.

It was actually an enjoyable visit. They were greeted with so much warmth and genuine relief that Sara felt herself floating on a wave of love. Several people hugged her that she had never hugged before – including Archie, Wendy and even Hodges – and gathered around in the break room, they quickly produced snacks, and a cake to celebrate. It was then that she realised they had been warned of their visit, probably by Dianne, but it did bother her. It was touching they had made the effort.

It was half an hour later however, having been on her feet standing still for too long, that she felt the first wave of faintness hit. She shifted to the other foot, but realised quickly that she had to sit down – or face the consequences.

She spotted a spare chair across the room, and meant to head for it, but halfway there felt the blood leave her head, and her vision disappear.

She sensed herself fall, felt someone try to grab her arm, but then there was nothing.

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