"Is she seeing anyone at the moment?" Nick asked around a mouthful of bacon. "Maybe something's going on at home that she doesn't want us to know about."
"Nah, that doesn't fit." Warrick scrunched up his nose. "Why would that be making her sick?"
"Maybe it's a virus." Greg offered. Having collected the young man en route out of the building, all three were now hypothesising as to what could be ailing Sara over a hearty breakfast at Franks.
"No, hear me out." Nick wiped at the corner of his mouth. "What if she's seeing some guy who's knocking her about – it would explain why she's always wearing long sleeves, and why she never comes out for breakfast anymore."
"Come on," Warrick scoffed. "Who would be stupid enough to knock Sara around. She's shoot them before they could lay a hand on her."
Greg chuckled around a slurp of coffee.
"No," the dark skinned CSI continued. "I'm telling you, she's sick."
"And you think Catherine knows what's wrong?" Greg asked, sobering up. "Why wouldn't she just tell us?"
"I don't know. Maybe there's something more going on between them." Warrick mused.
"No." Nick snorted. "If Cath knows and she's keeping quiet then she must be getting something else out of it."
A morose quiet fell over the group as they considered the possibilities surrounding what could be wrong with Sara, and Catherine's potential involvement.
"Do you think Grissom knows?" Greg asked at last.
"Probably."
"Well, there's one way to find out." Nick pointed out, suddenly re-enthused as he drained the last of his coffee. "His car was still at the lab when we left, let's go ask him."
x X x
"Mom, stop staring at her." Catherine chastised sternly. "You'll wake her up."
"She doesn't look good." Lily shook her head, ignoring the instruction.
"Try telling her that."
"Mom's right." Nancy chimed in. "She's getting worse. How much longer do you think you're going to be able to keep it quiet from the rest of the team?"
"I know." She sank down onto the couch beside Sara, who was curled up asleep with an unsettled frown on her ashen face. Resting an arm lazily on Sara's hip, Cath dragged her other hand through her hair. "I think she knows it too, deep down. She just doesn't want to admit it."
"The poor thing." Lily shook her head sadly again.
"You know what you need to do." Nancy looked at her sister pointedly. "It's for her own good."
Cath exhaled deeply, scrutinising her friend's expression.
"Yeah." She agreed meekly. "But she's still not going to like it."
x X x
"Ah, that hits the spot." Brass sighed, downing his drink and holding out his glass. "Hit me again."
Gil responded dutifully, refilling his tumbler and settling back with his own glass of whiskey.
"Long day?" He enquired, although before the detective could answer, the door was thrown open and three figured appeared, cast in shadow from the light in the hallway.
"Hey boss," Nick declared, before clocking the aging cop. "Oh, hi Jim."
"Boys." Grissom greeted cautiously. "What can I do for you?"
"Well, we ... we wanted to ask you about something..." The Texan stumbled over his words, before Warrick, sensing his mate's discomfort, swooped in.
"We want to know what's wrong with Sara."
Gil blinked, taken aback.
"What do you mean? What is wrong with her?"
"You mean you don't know?" Greg asked.
"No."
"Look," Nick held up his hands, having found his tongue again. "We know that she's sick, or something. And we know that Catherine knows what's going on. You're telling us that she hasn't told you?"
"Catherine hasn't told me anything." Grissom scowled, perturbed by this. "What do you mean Sara's sick?"
"Where you been?" Warrick asked. "She's been rundown for weeks now, and getting worse."
"She has?"
The discussion was interrupted by a low chuckle and the amassed group turned as one towards Jim, who was shaking his head in amusement.
"Boy, you know for CSIs, you people aren't all that observant."
"What do you know?" Warrick demanded, sharing a suspicious glance with the boys.
"I don't know anything." The detective held up his hands defensively. "But let me ask you this – when was the last time Sara drove herself into work, hmm?"
After a moment of exchanged glances, Nick nodded slowly.
"You know, I haven't actually seen her car in the lot for a while. And she hasn't even insisted on driving to scenes recently. Normally you have to fight her for the keys."
"For the last few weeks, she's been turning up at the same time as Catherine." Greg noted curiously.
"Yeah, yeah and leaving with her." Nick agreed, becoming more animated. "Son of a ... Catherine's been driving her to and from work!"
"But why?" Greg frowned. "What kind of illness would stop her from being able to drive?"
"Epilepsy would, or something like that." Warrick hummed. "But I think this is something different."
As they continued theorising, they failed to realise that Grissom had checked out of the conversation, until he suddenly spoke up in a small, indignant voice.
"She lied to me."
"What?" Brass queried, although his question went ignored as the entomologist stood up abruptly from his chair and stalked towards the door.
"Where are you going?" Warrick asked, waving a hand after him. Gil stopped in the doorway and turned back to the group.
"To Catherine's." He stated as if it were obvious.
The rest of the gathered men watched him go for a long moment, before Nick hitched up his pants and cleared his throat.
"Hell yeah," he nodded with approval, striding after the boss. "Let's do this."