Chapter 8

The lab was busy. Techs and CSIs running here, there, and everywhere. Each one carrying a case file or some form of evidence. It was busy. Chaotic, compared to the solitary existence he lived on his boat. The noise should have been deafening. The calls of the techs. The beeping of the machines. Guns shots from ballistics. Phones ringing. People laughing. It should overwhelm him. But Grissom didn't notice. The only thing he saw, the only thing he could focus on…

Sara.

After years of thinking of her. Dreaming of her. She was finally standing, only a few feet from him. Her long, dark, curling hair pulled back in a ponytail. She looked thinner than he remembered and there were new lines around her eyes and mouth. But she was beautiful.

Her big, chocolate brown eyes. Her thin lips and high cheek bones. Her arched eyebrows. Her arms and legs, so impossibly long.

All his dreaming's, all his imaginings, did not do justice to the exquisite woman that stood before him.

Grissom watched as she caught the eye of a blonde sifting through some burnt evidence. Was that from their… from Sara's house?

The blonde waved, her angular face softening into a smile, before going back to the evidence before her.

Everything was so different. The layout rooms, the lab rooms, the techs. Grissom was yet to see a familiar face. He had been gone for far too long. Things had changed.

Sara turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. Questioning. Grissom wasn't sure he'd be able to put his thoughts to words. Had she changed as much as the lab?

She was no longer wearing her ring, not that Grissom would expect her too. She no longer smiled at him, or teased him. Or gave him any of the 'Sidle' looks he loved so much.

Why should she? You asked for the divorce. You pushed her away. Of course, things would be different now.

Yet Grissom couldn't get the look on her face out of his mind. The look she gave him when it was just the two of them. In her hospital room, standing so close he could feel the heat from her skin. Her eyes dilated and dropping to his mouth, as if she wanted to kiss him. If she hadn't have stepped back, Grissom would have closed the distance. It had taken every ounce of self-control not to crush her in his arms the moment he saw her.

He had just landed in Vegas when he received Brass' message. To hear that she was in a fire, that she was currently in hospital. Fear like Grissom hadn't felt in years gripped at him. Taking his ability to breath. His ability to think. He had to see her.

He listened to Brass' messages in the cab to the hospital. Ignoring the one about Heather for the moment, focusing solely on Sara. The man's voice wasn't panicked or sad, just disappointed. Angry. Brass was angry at him. Angry that he wasn't there. That he didn't answer the phone. That he had hurt the most important person in his life. Grissom couldn't blame the man; he was angry at himself too.

It was only when he saw her, standing in the hospital, looking well. Healthy. Did Grissom finally start to breathe again. Nick had answered the door, but Grissom barely noticed him. He only saw Sara.

Sara's brow lowered into a frown and Grissom realised he had just been staring at her. What was it about this woman that rendered him utterly, and completely speechless?

"Things have certainly changed around here," Grissom said, berating himself. Great, Gil. Nice one. Very intelligent.

"Something things," Sara said, her voice was still a little rough. "And somethings never change." It was all so soft; Grissom almost didn't catch her last comment. She was looking at him again, her big brown eyes boring into his. A strand of hair had come lose and, without a thought, Grissom reached up to brush it aside. Sara turned her head before he could make contact.

Pain stabbed through him as that small rejection. Nothing less than you deserve, Gil. He ached to hold her, to touch her. The fingers on his hand still tingled from where he touched her lips before. Tantalising him with memories.

Nick was watching him, eyes scrunched like he was examining a particularly difficult piece of evidence. When Grissom met his gaze, the younger man only nodded.

"Sara," a voice called from behind them. Grissom turned to see Conrad Ecklie walking towards them. "I thought you were still in the hospital?" The Sheriff asked.

"I was let out on good behaviour," Sara replied with a smile.

"Somehow, I doubt that." Ecklie chuckled before he turned to Grissom and held out his hand. Grissom shook it. "Gil, I wasn't expecting to see you so soon. I take it you got Brass' message?"

Grissom glanced at Sara.

"There's seems to be a connection between the bomber and Lady Heather," Ecklie continued, not noticing anything. Right, he means the message about Heather. "Let's go to DB's office, he can brief you all on what's happened."

"Who's DB?" He whispered to Sara, but she only shook her head and followed Ecklie.

Ecklie lead them down the hall to a familiar room and, for a moment, Grissom's mind took him back to when the shelves were full of his entomology text books, fetal pigs, and brain specimens.

Now they housed something else. Where those mushrooms?

A tall, slim man, with a head full of white hair, stood as the four of them entered. Square glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. Strong jaw, bushy eyebrows. He held out his hand to Grissom. "You must be Dr Grissom? DB Russell, pleasure to finally meet you."

So, this was the Russell Sara had told him about? Grissom shook the other man's hand, not able to help the rush of self-consciousness that flashed through him. Especially when Russell immediately turned to Sara and looked her over.

"I thought I told you to go home?" He said as he let go of Grissom's hand.

"I'm fine, Russell," Sara replied. Her voice was sounding better each time she used it. Russell rolled his eyes.

"There's no point arguing with her, is there?" He said to Grissom, good naturedly. Flashing Sara, a warm, friendly, almost familial, smile. Grissom liked him.

"After a while, you realise there's not hope. Sara always wins," Grissom said, his lips turned up slightly and he looked at Sara. It seemed for a second, that she was going to respond. Going to smile at him, like she used too. But it was gone as quickly as it came. She turned back to Russell and asked him about the case.

"Morgan and Greg are still at the scene." The supervisor moved back round his desk and picked up a file. "David was able to gather up fragments of the bomber and I ran his prints," Russell continued, referring to the assistant coroner. He handed Sara the file.

"The bomber is defiantly the same guy who set your house on fire," Ecklie added. "I have to say, because it's my job, I don't think you should work this case." Sara looked up at him, eyebrow raised. "It's a conflict of interest, Sara. You and I both know it."

"And you and I both know, there is no way I'm walking away from it," Sara responded.

Grissom held his breath. Sara voice was firm, but polite. No hint of disrespect or insubordination. But the Ecklie he knew wouldn't accept a flat-out refusal to follow orders.

He glanced at Nick, who was smirking at Russell. The older man held a hand over his mouth to hide his own smile. Sara's lips quirked at the side and Sheriff shook his head. Actually shook his head, and rolled his eyes while his own mouth tilted up.

"Well, you all heard me say it. So, when the DA comes down here…"

"We've got your back, Conrad," Sara said, still smirking. When her eyes met Grissoms, the smile faded. "So," Sara said, flipping through the file. "What else do we know?"

"Russell, I sent those blood samples to…" Catherine's voice floated through the door, when she caught sight of Grissom, she stopped short. Her face splitting into a huge grin. "Gil!" She went straight over to him and pulled him into a hug. At least there was one person who seemed happy to see him. "We weren't expecting to see you so soon. When did you get in?"

"Today," Grissom replied as he pulled back. Catherine smiled at him before her eyes flicked between him and Sara. She raised her eyebrows; Grissom shrugged a shoulder slightly and Catherine nodded.

"It's good to see you," Catherine said, squeezing his shoulder before letting go and turning back to the rest of the room. Grissom could have hugged her once more when she didn't question Sara's decision to return to the lab. "I sent the blood samples to Henry," she said. "Witnesses claim the bomber didn't seem intoxicated. But I can't imagine someone walking into a casino with a bomb strapped to his chest, without some form of liquid courage."

"Did Morgan or Finn find anything at the house?" Sara asked.

"Finn is sifting through some stuff now, but they did find evidence of an accelerant. Morgan sent the samples to trace; Hodges is working on it."

Sara nodded and looked back down at the file. "Is this the best picture we have of the bomber?" She asked, holding up an A4 photograph of a man with light brown hair, wearing a green duffel coat and standing next to a young woman.

"Yeah," Nick said, his voice tight. "That was captured, just before he set off the bomb. Archie is running through the footage to see if he can find anything."

"I don't recognise him," Sara mused. "White male, probably late thirties? Early forties, maybe?" Her voice lilted up at the question. She brushed past Grissom. Her arm breezing across his own, sending an electric current running through his limb, and set the photo down on Russell's desk. "Can I borrow your magnifier?" Sara asked, without looking up. Wordlessly, Russell handed her the glass and Sara hovered it over the picture. "He's wearing a wedding ring."

"Someone will be missing him then," Russell replied. He looked over at Ecklie. "We should get his photo out, might help with an ID?"

People were moving around them, but Grissom wasn't paying much attention. His whole focus was centred on the brunette bending over the magnifying glass. God, he had missed watching her work. Seeing the wheels turning in her head and the elation on her face when she finds the missing piece to the puzzle.

Sara paused and lent over, eyes narrowing as she tried to make something out that he couldn't see. Without thinking, Grissom moved next to her.

"What do you make of this?" She asked, handing Grissom the glass.

"What have you found?"

"Here." She pointed to the bombers head and Grissom held up the glass, leaning in close. It was just like before. The two of them, working a case, bending over the evidence. Close enough to touch with just one millimetre of movement. It was right.

Grissom looked to where she had pointed, hovering the magnifier over the bombers left ear. It was small, almost invisible. Something most people would have missed.

"Is that… an earpiece?" Grissom looked at her, she was watching him, her face scrunched as she tried to work out what it meant. "Did the witnesses say anything about him receiving instructions?"

"No," Sara said, they straightened, still keeping within each other's personal space. She flicked through the file once more, holding it out so that Grissom could read with her. "If anybody noticed, they didn't say anything."

They frowned at each other in confusion and Grissom could see the exact moment she worked it out. Her eyebrows quirked up slightly and she shifted onto her right leg, making her body language more open than it had been since he arrived.

"Someone was giving him instructions," Grissom said, and Sara nodded.

"The question is," she continued for him. "Who?"

"Lady Heather?" Ecklie's voice sounded from behind them. Both Grissom and Sara jumped. Forgetting, for a moment, there were other people in the room. Grissom could see her retreating back into herself. The openness from before sliding away from him. She stepped back and Grissom was left alone by Russell's desk. He looked round to each person in the room, they were all watching him. Expectant. Nick and Catherine had small, satisfied smiles ghosting on their lips.

"I don't know," Grissom said, slowly. He didn't, for one moment, think that Heather was behind this. "This isn't something Heather would do." He chanced a quick look to Sara, but her face was passive. A mask he couldn't read.

"You don't think she's capable of something like this?" Catherine asked, sceptically.

"She's capable," Grissom said. "More than capable, but this isn't her style. She didn't do this." His voice was firm, and he watched as Catherine and Nick exchanged a glance, the latter quickly looking over at Sara before returning his attention back to Grissom.

"When was the last time you spoke with her?" Ecklie asked.

"A few days ago. By phone."

"I guess your cell service is better than it used to be." Her voice was soft, hurt. Grissom looked over and Sara was regarding him coolly. He wanted to say something, but there were too many people around.

Catherine and Nick shifted slightly on their feet and Russell was watching Sara carefully.

"We need to speak to her," the supervisor said, and Grissom looked to him. "Whoever is behind this has a connection with her, and you."

"What makes you think that?"

"Because of what the bomber said," Nick answered. "Tell Dr Grissom, I'm doing this for Lady Heather." Nick looked him over. "If that's not a connection, I don't know what is."

It was hard to dispute that. Heather was mixed up in this somehow. And so, it seemed, was he. But why? Grissom hadn't been back to Vegas for over two years.

"Grissom and I will talk to her," Sara said. Everyone turned to face her, but Sara wasn't looking at him. She was looking at Russell.

"You sure?"

"Yes. She more likely to speak to him than anyone else, and he can't go on his own." Sara and Russell looked at each other for a few moments. Something passed between them, and Grissom could feel the familiar stirrings of jealously rising within him. There was once a time he and Sara would communicate like that. No words. Just a look. An understanding. The older man, satisfied with whatever he could read on Sara's face, nodded.

"I'll start working on a profile for Lady Heather," Catherine said. "Whether she is behind this or not, the more we know the better."

"Good luck with that," Grissom said, dryly, as he turned to Catherine. Before she left, the redhead gave him a pointed look before flicking her eyes to Sara. Talk to her.

I know, Grissom thought.

"I'll meet you by the car," Sara called to him, and she walked away without a backwards glance.