"You all right?" Catherine asked Sara a little later.

"I already knew," Sara said, flipping through a date book sitting on her coffee table. She could not keep her hands still.

"That wasn't what I asked."

"I know. It wasn't a surprise or anything." Sara gestured vaguely toward the bathroom door. "I knew already."

"I figured you did. You know how far along you are?"

"Eight weeks."

Catherine sat looking at the younger woman for a few minutes. Finally, she asked, "What are you going to do?"

"Tell the father."

"Then?"

"Go visit my mother for her birthday," Sara said, standing up.

Catherine sighed. "That's not what I meant, Sara."

"I know. I have to get ready to leave this evening. You should go see Grissom."

"Will you call me if you need to talk?" Catherine asked as she carried her glass to Sara's sink.

"Yes," Sara lied.

"Good. You'll be okay." Catherine gave Sara a quick hug and left.

Sara wanted to scream. This was not the time for uncharacteristic affection. She was thankful that her apartment was empty. She picked up the phone and dialed her parent's phone number.

"Hello, Harold Sidle speaking."

"Hi, Dad."

"Sara. How are you doing, sweetie?"

Sara found herself smiling at her father's voice. "Awful, Dad. How are you?"

"We're all pretty good here. But what's wrong?"

"A lot." Sara closed her eyes and tried not to cry. She could hear her voice getting thicker. "I'm pregnant, and I might end up in prison." She could almost see her dad shaking his hand.

"Wow. I don't know what to say about the baby. And why are you going to prison?"

"I'm not. I might be. I don't...I didn't actually do what I'm being accused of. But my boss was injured at work and there's speculation that I might have been involved. That I might have done it." She started to cry. "But I wouldn't do that to him. We don't always get along but we're still friends. He's the--." She stopped talking.

"Oh, Sara. It--We'll make it work out. Okay?"

She was tired of people saying that. People always say that everything will work out but they don't know. "Okay. Is it okay if I come down a couple days early, maybe spend a week with you guys? Just to get away from everything going on here?"

"Are you allowed to leave there?"

"Yeah. It hasn't gone that far yet."

"No one will mind you taking time off?"

Considering I've been suspended , no. "No, I wouldn't have been working this week anyway."

"When should we expect you?"

"Tomorrow some time. If that's all right."

"Of course. I might be at the office, but Mom will be home."

"Don't tell her anything. I have to go."

"We love you."

"I love you guys, too."

"You have a visitor, Mr. Grissom. Shall I send her in?"

"Yes. Thank you." He hoped it was Sara. She had seemed so confused the night before. He was worried. And her also wanted to know what she was planning to tell him.

"Hello," Catherine said from the doorway.

"Hello," he said, trying not to seem disappointed.

"I leave for a few days and look what happens."

"Yeah."

"Are you okay?"

"I will be."

"That's the important part."

"Yeah."

"Sara's in trouble."

"Ecklie's going to have to drop it eventually. There's no evidence, no proof."

Catherine smiled. "Hey, you gave me an actual sentence! Anyway, that wasn't what I was referring to."

"What do you mean?"

"Can't tell you. Anyway, we need to go to bat for her, try to get this fixed. She's under a lot of stress now."

"She always is. Even if it's mostly in her head."

"Do you make observations like that about me?"

"Not to you."

"She's going out of town."

"Why?"

"To visit her mother. But I suspect she just wants to get away."

"Like you did for the last three days."

"Uh huh."

"Is she okay?"

"Don't know. Am I? I don't know." She smiled.

"Hey, boss," said a voice from the doorway.

"Hello," Grissom greeted Warrick as Catherine moved to let him into the room.

"You look a lot better than last time I saw you."

"Feel better too," Grissom responded, wondering when he lost the ability to form complete sentences.

"I'm glad. Is Sara royally pissed at me?"

"Not that she mentioned," Grissom answered.

"Is there a particular reason she would be?" Catherine asked, wondering for a moment if Warrick and Sara had a relationship.

"I made her stay here," Warrick told her.

"You made her?" the other man asked.

"She was ready to bolt."

"Why?"

"Because she's Sara," Warrick said. "Don't get me wrong, I love the girl."

"You all call Sara a girl too often," Catherine said, feeling annoyed and defensive.

"You all talk about me too much," Sara said from the hall. "I'm very pissed at you, Warrick, to answer your question. And I want to talk to Grissom for thirty seconds before I leave if that's okay."

"You're leaving?" Warrick asked.

"It's my mother's birthday."

"Oh," Warrick said. "I love you, take care of yourself," he told her as he hugged her and left the room.

Catherine followed him and raised an eyebrow, to which Sara shook her head.

"When are you coming back," Grissom asked her.

"A week, maybe. It'll be before you're out of the hospital."

"What did you want to tell me?"

"That I'm pregnant," she said quickly. Like a band-aid.

"Is it mine?"

"Barring amnesia, you are his or her father, yes."

"Have you decided what you're going to do?"

"I wish people would quit asking me that," she sighed. She was getting a headache. The room was completely silent. "I'll tell you when I figure it out. Get better, Gris." She left before he managed to say anything else. She was back in her car less than five minutes after she had parked it in the visitors' parking lot.

"Sara," her mother said as she opened the door. "It's great to see you again."

"Happy early birthday, Mom," Sara replied. They looked at each other for a moment, then her mother waved her inside. "Come in, get something to eat! I hope you didn't drive straight here. That's really not safe."

"I got here."

"Yes. Yes, you're here."

The house, her mother, it was all overwhelming. It was three o'clock in the afternoon, and she couldn't believe how long it would be before the whole show could end and she could sleep.

"Let's go into the living room," she heard her mother saying, "and talk about what you've been doing since you moved to Las Vegas." Her mother pronounced the name of the city like she was talking about mildew. Not that Joyce Sidle was in the practice of discussing mildew.

"Same as what I was doing in San Francisco."

"Of course. Hmm. Your father tells me you have news."

"Yes."

"Would you like to share it, or is this a father-daughter only thing?"

"No, it's not..." She shook her head. "I'm pregnant."

"Well, goodness, how did that happen?"

"Happened to you once, didn't it?"

"Yes, when I was an adult and prepared to care for a child."

"I am an adult."

"I know that. I mean, I was settled."

"Settled?"

"Yes. Yes, Sara, settled. Do you really expect to be able to raise a child?"

"If I choose to, I would be able to."

"You can't even take care of yourself. Look at you. I can't believe you let this happen. Then to come here and expect your father and I to just fix it for you."

"I'm not asking you for anything! I came to see you, not to be...Never mind. I want to lie down. I've been driving since last night to see you. I'm exhausted."

"I'm sure your lifestyle hasn't left much time for sleep either," her mother said. "Oh! The guest room's not ready yet. You may lie down in your cousin's room. We gave her your old room. We wanted to leave the guest room open for someone else, and we figured you wouldn't mind, seeing as how you don't like putting down or maintaining roots."

"Of course not," Sara said and disappeared upstairs. She walked slowly down the hall and into the bedroom of her youth. It was almost the same as it had been then, except for the few pieces of furniture and the personal belongings she had taken with her. It looked as if her cousin had taken one small corner of the old dresser to place her belongings on. She hated her mother for giving her permission to invade Stephanie's privacy. She had never had any herself.

She buried her face in the soft pillowcase and fell hard into a deep sleep.

When Sara woke up it was dark outside. There was a teenage girl curled up in a chair in the corner, reading a book. She was pretty, but didn't really act like it. She was dressed for bed, flowing green satin pants and a soft white cotton t-shirt, dark hair pulled back in a loose clip. When she looked up and saw that Sara was awake, she put her book on the desk.

"I hope I didn't wake you up. It's just...Uncle Harold and Aunt Joyce were fighting. I'm Stephanie, by the way."

"No, I just woke up." I was dreaming about your father again. And my baby's father. And the man who I wish was my baby's father. "I'm Sara. Um, what were they fighting about?"

"You. Your mom said something at supper tonight, and your dad was, like, defending you."

"What did she say about me?"

"Basically, what she said this afternoon."

"You heard that?"

"I just got home from school when you two were fighting."

"Okay. Hey, I'll get out of your bed," Sara said. She stood and ended up grabbing the edge of the dresser to keep from falling.

"Are you okay?" Stephanie asked, rushing to her side.

"Yeah. Yeah, I just feel sick."

"Happened to my friend Becky when she was pregnant."

"Yeah. Yeah, but it hasn't been this bad."

"The bathroom's right there if you need it."

"Yeah. Yeah. I just realized, I didn't eat today."

"I'll get you something," Stephanie said as she helped Sara sit back down on the bed.

"Don't tell my parents what it's for."

"I won't." Stephanie smiled and left.

Sara stared at her hands. That was stupid, forgetting to eat all day. She needed to get to a doctor. There were vitamins and prenatal visits to think about. With those thoughts came the realization that she intended to have the baby.

"Thank you," Sara said, when Stephanie returned with a glass of ginger ale and a bag of pretzels.

"I know it's not much," she said, handing Sara the glass, "but there weren't any crackers, and you don't really want to risk much."

"You know a lot about pregnancy."

"No, I know a lot about being sick. I end up with a supposed stomach virus every few days, but I blame stress."

"Has that happened since you came here?"

"No, actually," Stephanie said, realizing for the first time.

"I'm glad you're here," Sara said. I'm glad you're not there.

"Oh, you're welcome," the young girl said, thinking Sara was referring to her help that evening.

"Where are my parents?"

"Your father's in the living room. I have no idea where Aunt Joyce is."

"Okay." They sat looking at each other for a few moments. "I'm going to go talk to my dad." She grabbed a handful of pretzels and her glass. "Thank you so much, Stephanie. I'm so glad you're here."

"Good night!" Stephanie called into the hall.

"Good night," Sara said, managing a sincere smile. "Oh. Quit living out of your suitcase."

She slipped quietly down the stairs and into the living room.

"Sara," her father greeted her warmly with just her name.

"It's great to see you."

"Do I get a hug?"

"Yeah, of course." He pulled her into a tight hug, which was kind of awkward for her with the food in her hands.

"Sit down, talk to me," her father said, sitting back down in his chair.

"Okay." She sat her glass down on the table, careful to sit a coaster down first. "I'm having a baby."

"Is that what you decided?"

"Yes."

"The father?"

"We're friends."

"Friends?"

"Yeah."

"Do you sleep with all your friends?" a voice asked from behind her.

"That would be Mom," Sara said.

"Well?"

"No. No, I'm not a slut." Sara turned and looked at her mother. "Sorry, Mom, I know you'd like it if I could tell you that I've slept with every guy at the lab, but that just wouldn't be true, and I wouldn't want to lie to you. But I know how much you'd like it if I threw myself at your feet and confessed all the sins of my young life."

"We don't use that kind of language in this house, Sara. We also don't let supposedly good daughters sleep under our roof. So in the morning you can find yourself a hotel or go back to whoring yourself out in your city-of-the-year." Her mother walked out of the room.

"I'm leaving," Sara said, standing up.

"Sara, coming down here you could barely walk. Sit down."

"No, Dad, I don't need this! I could always handle her before because I had three months of the year away from her. Truth is, I hate her, but at least I love her. She plain hates me." She shook her head. "That made no sense."

"Do you want her to leave?"

"What?"

"I'll make her leave. No one abuses my daughter in my home, Sara. Please tell me she didn't treat you like this when you were living here."

"No, nothing like the last few hours. And it's not abuse, Dad."

"Yes, it is. Would you let the baby's father treat you like that?"

"No, he goes more for cold neglect."

They looked at each other for a moment before Sara burst into laughter.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes. Yes, I'm fine."

"Is he going to be a good father?"

Sara thought about Grissom's unconditional acceptance of Warrick. Then she thought about his treatment of Greg. "The potential's there. I'd like to think he'd be good with his own child, anyway."

"You have me worried now," her father half-joked.

"I'll ignore Mom."

"You were ignoring her really well when you almost passed out standing up."

"I'm fine."

"I'm happy to hear it, even if it's not true. I love you, Sara. Your mom does too, I'm sure."

"Did Mom ever tell you that I thought Stephanie's father killed Aunt Chloe.

"No, she never mentioned that. Why did you think that?"

"I still do. He all but told me, and I knew before that. That's why you have to make sure Mom doesn't send Stephanie back there," Sara said, starting to sound almost frantic.

"Okay, Sara. Calm down."

"Dad, I'm serious! I don't think he'd do anything to her, but she shouldn't have had to grow up there."

"Okay."

"Don't just humor me! I have never been this serious about anything."

"I'm not just humoring you. I trust you. Your mother will be out of this house before Stephanie is. Or you, for that matter."

"Okay. I'm going to sleep then. Is the guest room made up yet?"

"Yes, Stephanie and I did it."

"Thanks. I love you, Dad."

"I love you too, Sara. And, now that you know what you're doing, I'll tell you that I'm excited about being a grandfather."

"I'm glad." She smiled. "Good night."

"Good night, hon."

Sleep was not easy, but it came eventually.