Chapter 3

A phone was ringing, hidden somewhere in the depth of the usually tidy bedroom. Sara had thrown it on the bed once she had finished speaking with the airline, booking her tickets to San Diageo. That was where the headquarters for Grissom's organisation was based. And that was where Sara was heading, in the hopes of finding out where her estranged husband would be.

She picked up a couple of t-shirts that she had scattered over the duvet and found her phone lying on top of a pair of jeans.

Jimmy Thompson.

Sara sighed before answering.

"Hi, Jimmy. What's up?"

"Hey, you alright? You sound out of breath?" Jimmy's voice called down the line.

"I'm fine, just busy. What's up?"

"I was wondering if you guys wanted to get a drink after work. I tried to catch Nick, but he isn't answering his phone."

"You won't, it's super busy right now. He's probably still at the lab," Sara said, as she started to fold her clothing into the small travel bag sitting at the foot of her bed.

"Oh," Jimmy said. "What about you, or Greg? Surely, you're due a break soon. You've been working overtime for the last week."

"Last three weeks, actually," Sara corrected him. "But no. Sorry, Jim. Greg and Morgan have a date tonight. If Russell doesn't keep them in." Sara held the phone between her cheek and shoulder, freeing up her hands so she could pack.

"What about you?"

"I'm packing. I've got a flight in the morning."

"A flight? Where?" Sara paused, frowning a little at the change in his tone. Over the last two years, she and Jimmy had grown closer. Spent more time together. Had become… friends.

She liked him; he was fun and smart and didn't seem to care too much about what she did for a living. In fact, he was one of the few who actually questioned her on it. Genuinely interested in all the gory details.

Though Sara had never went out of her way to spend time with him, Jimmy did hang out with Nick, or Greg, and the guys liked him a lot. It was the only reason Sara made an effort to get to know the therapist. Besides, he was one of the few people who could make her laugh these days.

"I'm going to San Diageo," Sara said. Pausing in her packing and taking the phone in hand. Though she liked Jimmy, this wasn't a discussion she was willing to have. Not with him. Something she had made clear that last time they had bumped into each other, at the coffee shop near her apartment.

"You're going to see him, aren't you?" It wasn't really a question, more like an accusation. Sara sighed; she was really getting tired of this. If it wasn't the not-so-subtle hints when they were out with the guys, it was the clear disgust whenever Grissom's name happened to be mentioned by any of them. Jimmy made no secret of the fact that he doesn't approve of Sara's ex-husband, or Sara's continuing feelings for the absentee entomologist.

"I've already told you, Jimmy. It's none of your business."

"The hell it is!" Jimmy practically yelled down the phone. "I thought we were friends, Sara?"

"We are…"

"Then," Jimmy interrupted her. "As you friend, I think it's my place to tell you…"

"It's not your place to tell me anything, Jimmy," Sara interrupted, her anger making her voice grow with each word. "As my friend," she continued, emphasising the word. "It's your place to respect my decision."

He didn't say anything, and for a second Sara just stood there, trying to control her breathing so she didn't blow up at him.

"Look, I don't have time to go over this now, or ever," Sara said when she was sure she could hold her temper. "I'll talk to you when I get back." With that, Sara hung up the phone and threw it to the head of the bed.

First Greg, then Russell, and now Jimmy. Three people who made it clear they thought she was making a mistake. She hadn't had a chance to speak to Nick before she left, but Sara had no doubt he would express the same sentiments.

They didn't understand, couldn't understand. They just didn't get the hollow feeling that comes following a divorce, especially when you don't know why said divorce happened in the first place.

Sara had to know. She had to find out what she did. What went so wrong.

When she and Grissom had last spoken, there was nothing in his tone or words to even hint at what he was going to do. She was already planning a trip to see him, though she hadn't then decided it would be the last 'trip'. That, that time, she wouldn't be going back to Vegas. He was excited. Excited to see her, to show her what he had been doing. He'd even thrown out a few dates for when he could come to Vegas afterwards.

Things were good, not perfect, but good and Sara was in no doubt that Grissom loved her. That he wanted her. To be with her.

What happened? What had changed, so drastically, in those last couple of weeks to make him want to leave her?

Had he met someone else? Did he realise, with the knowledge that she was coming to see him, that he didn't actually want her too? He had tried to call her in that time. Maybe those calls were to tell her not to bother, maybe that was when he tried to tell her. Then, when he hadn't been able to get hold of her, and her arrival date coming closer, he just decided to send the papers.

Sara had tortured herself with the 'what ifs', and 'maybes', and questions for the last two years. She had run through conversations with him, time and time again, with no satisfactory answers. And Betty couldn't, or wouldn't, tell her what was going on with her son. Except for the occasional hint that he was ok, or, at the very least, healthy.

Sara knew, the only way she'd get the answers she wanted, no, the answers she deserved, was to speak to Grissom herself. Whether he wanted too or not. He owed her that much at least.

Sara hoped he would be in San Diageo, so she wouldn't have to travel too far away. She hoped that she wouldn't need the two weeks Russell had given her and that, once she had arrived, she could corner her ex-husband and leave within the day.

She had no expectations from Grissom, he asked for the divorce and Sara would not allow herself the indulgence of thinking he might miss her as much as she missed him. Nor would she degrade herself by begging him to take her back. She just wanted answers. Closure.

But, all that being said, Sara wasn't naïve. She knew, even once she's spoken to him, once she leaves, it wouldn't change her heart. Sara knew, no matter what, she would always love Gil Grissom. She just hoped that maybe, just maybe, she might finally be able to move on.

With her bag packed and set by the bedroom door, Sara readied for bed. Her dreams were a mixture of heart ache and joy. Sometimes Grissom takes her in his arms and doesn't let go. Others, he yells at her for coming. Telling her that he doesn't love her and never will.

The dreams twisted and turned, messed into one giant ball of emotion. Personified in the movement of her body, the curve of her spine as she tossed in her bed.

Awoken suddenly from her fitful sleep, her consciousness dragging her away from the torturous dreams that assailed her, Sara rolled over to look at the time on her phone. Her eyes were blurry, and her throat dry. Coughing slightly to clear her airways, Sara tried to blink away the haze covering her eyes. It wouldn't budge.

She coughed again, her throat scratching. It was as if someone had shoved a towel down it. Soaking up all the moisture. Sara picked up her phone. That was when she smelt it.

Smoke.

Sitting up frantically, Sara looked to the door. Thick grey clouds were pushing their way through the gap between the floor and the door. She pulled at her phone, ripping it from the charger, and tried to unlock it with shaky fingers.

Sara rolled off the bed, staying as low to the ground as possible. Keeping the smoke hovering above her. Her body pressed to the carpet. Heart thumping in her ears.

"911, what's your emergency?" A male voice floated through her ears, sounding like it was coming from underwater.

"This is Charlie-0-4 Sidle. I'm at 1-4-6 Charleston Avenue. I need the fire department here, immediately," Sara choaked out, the smoke pressing down on her lungs, causing her eyes to water.

"Charlie-0-4 Sidle, are you in the premises?"

"Yes," Sara croaked. "I'm in the master bedroom. Smoke is coming from below."

"Can you get out?"

"I'm… I'm not sure."

"Ok, the fire department is on its way. Can you get to a window?"

Sara looked around her bedroom, her heart was pounding. Fear slowing starting to ebb into her shocked state. Creeping down her spine and knotting in her stomach. Her eyes fixed on the window opposite her. She crawled along the floor, keeping as low as possible. The carpeting beneath her growing hotter as she moved, and her hands started to sting as they touched the matting.

"Charlie-0-4, are you still there?" The operator asked.

"Yes," she gasped.

"Can you get to a window?"

"Yes." Sara crawled over and sat back against the wall, breathing heavily as the oxygen was slowly sucked out of the room. She raised a hand, coughing even harder than before, and reached for the latch. Her fingers fumbled a little before she knew she would have to stand.

Legs trembling beneath her, Sara pushed up from the floor. Phone still clenched in her fist.

She unlocked the window and threw it open. Wind gushed in, bringing with it the oxygen her brain so franticly craved. Sara stuck out her head, breathing in deeply before she was able to focus her eyes on her surroundings.

There was no way out. Not unless she wanted to jump from the second story window right onto her patio.

"Charlie-0-4, are you at the window?"

"Yes," Sara said, trying desperately to keep her sob in her throat. Now was not the time to lose her head. "But I can't get out this way."

"That's ok," the operator said, his voice calm and soothing. "The fire department is almost with you. Now, are you at the front or the back of the house?"

"The back."

"Ok, I've told them your location. Stay where you are, and they will get you."

Sara looked anxiously around the room, she needed to cover her face. Ripping off the blanket from her bed, Sara threw it over her as she sank once more to the floor.

Smoke hovers in the air. She told herself. Stay low… God, it's hot. The blanket isn't working… I can't breathe.

Panic bubbled within her, and Sara fought with all she had to keep it down.

Water. I need water. Bathroom.

Sara lifted the blanket, a wave of smoke hit her face, causing her eyes to sting even more. Sara used the blanket to cover her nose and mouth, providing a small amount of protection as she squinted through the thick clouds now covering her room. The door to her ensuite was only a few feet away.

Sara dropped the blanket and crawled along, faster than before. A cry broke from the throat when her hand hit the scolding tiles of the bathroom floor.

Water. I need water.

Biting her lip to keep from screaming, Sara pushed up and launched herself into the room. Hanging over the sink was a flannel and tears started to fall when she caught the cloth in her hand. Using it to turn the tap on, she soaked it through with cold water before pressing it against her face. The water dripped into her mouth and Sara sucked the liquid down.

Sirens blared in the distance, and she could hear her neighbours starting to shout as they realised what was going on.

Flannel pressed to her nose and mouth, water still soaking through it, Sara ran back to the window and sat beneath the glass. Multiplications ran through her mind. Her brain trying desperately to focus itself.

"Charlie-0-4, are you still there?"

Sara didn't answer. The smoke was getting thicker. The air was hotter.

9 x 7 is… 63. 9 x 8 is… is…

"Charlie-0-4?"

There was banging. Someone was calling her name. Sara tried to answer, but no sound would come out.

There was something on her face. A light in her eyes. Her mother was screaming and Grissom… Grissom was standing there. His arms open. His eyes full of love.

Sara started to cry.