Disclaimer: I don't own it, I don't pretend to own it, and I don't mean to offend anyone's sensibilities.

Thank You: Stelmarta for being there! Mom because I love her!

Special Thank You: Duchess of Hell and to Saryn for the wonderful support. Katherine and Anna, for the extra bit of e-mail encouragement while ff,net was down.

Chapter Eleven

Chinatown in San Francisco was as incredible a place as ever existed. Although the 'chinatown' in New York City was technically bigger, nothing could truly compare to the sheer cohesiveness of these people and this place. Gil Grissom walked the streets aimlessly, or to the average bystander it seemed aimless. He stopped every once and a while and bought something from a street vendor. Nothing expensive, so that he wasn't marked as a target for a pickpocket, but nothing truly cheesy, he did, after all, have some standards.

Eventually he caught one of Frisco's famous trolleys; it took him spinning madly to the top of hills and back down again. They were almost as good as a roller coaster, but not quite as rough. It ended near an extraordinarily wealthy district, Porsche's and Bentley's casually parked in super protected and super expensive private garages. He walked now with a purpose, to the granite façade of a rather large condo. Stepping briskly onto the stairs he ignored the bell and rapped smartly on the thick redwood door.

Waiting for someone to answer, he rolled over in his mind the sight of Sara, lounging in one of these bastions of conspicuous consumption. Unbeknownst to anyone but Deng Xao, Deng's husband, a Frisco PD Detective named Lee Wong, and Grissom, Sara was independently financed.

 The 'little dot.com' that she and Deng Xao had once run out of a studio apartment in the worst section of Chinatown to help make ends meet, went public during the dot.com boom of the early nineties.

The IPO went from a buck fifty to one fifty in a matter of hours. Surprisingly, it stayed there. Although Deng Xao was the 'official' beneficiary of the success, Sara helped herself, with tacit permission, whenever she needed it.

Grissom thought it was very odd, but neither of the 'sisters' thought twice about it, they trusted each other. 'Money is money,' Sara once told him in a very 'Sara' manner, 'why the hell should I care as long as I don't have to worry about it?'

 "Good Morning, sir, may I ask who is calling?"

"Gil Grissom," he introduced himself to the maid, a cheerful Hispanic who's English probably consisted of 'good morning, sir'.

"Oh, OK, come in." he was ushered into the main room, where Deng Xao Wong, waited with a fragrant pot of tea. He accepted a cup; it was the same blend she always drank, even when she'd been robbing Peter to pay Paul. She was a woman of very specific taste and the ambitions to achieve it.

"So?"

She resisted the urge to say 'so what?'

"Well good morning to you too, Gil."

"Good Morning Deng Xao. Where is she?"

"She's not here." Watching Grissom's eyes go from bland to blue fire she carefully set down the cup of tea and braced herself.

"You said she was," he said evenly, belaying his underlying temper. My, did he have a temper, she mused, although it was so rare to be let out of its cage.

"I lied,"

"Why?"                        

"She doesn't need you banging doors down right trying to get to her right now. She has enough on her plate to deal with,"

"And you didn't feel like sharing this with me before I undertook an eight hour trip in the wrong direction?"

"I'm not sure it was the wrong direction Gil,"

"You're being enigmatic," he polished off the cup and placed it back on his saucer, "You know where she is."

"Yes and No" he arched a brow, she sighed, "She E-mailed me where she was staying, but I'm not really sure I know where it is and no, I'm not going to tell you."

"Since when did you become an expert on her feelings," he groused bitterly.

"Since we've been living together for ninety percent of our lives," Deng said evenly, "You've met her parents, Gil; you know damn well she never spent any time with them if she could help it. She lived at my house and I at hers. We're as close as sisters, closer even, because we chose to have each other."

Deng, lifted her eyes from the rim of the cup, looking to all intents and purposes like some sort of bizarre Chinese Goddess, "You have no idea how much soul searching she did to go to Vegas, but she did it because of you." raising her voice, helpless against the anger welling inside, "She did it because you made her a promise, and you told her that she could forget it all."

"And I went ahead and did it anyhow" Grissom mumbled.

"You have no idea Gil," she dug the knife in deeper, "you never woke up, with her screaming in her dreams. You never watched her turn from human contact, afraid of just simple friendship."

Wordlessly Grissom hung his head; it was almost verbatim the lecture Catherine had read him the night before, with the exception of the screaming-at-night routine. "So what do I do?"

"What do you want from her?"

"Forgiveness," he said instantly.

"You had that the moment she first saw you," Deng said irritably, "She's never been able to resist anything you asked."

"Then what?" he asked simply, "I don't know what I want her to do, I just don't want her to go."

"Then Mr. Grissom," Deng stood up, "I suggest you ask. As far as I know she's never refused you anything you in her life. She's worked hard to try and achieve something good in your eyes. She became a CSI to try and impress you; she's damn good at it because you are too, and she loves it, because you showed her how."

Deng paced, angrily, "Talk to her Grissom. Tell her you're proud of her, tell her she's done well, and tell her you don't want her to go. She could have come into business with me, made a fortune, married a good man, but she chose to follow you. I suggest you take responsibility for that."

"You're protective of her."

"Damn straight. She's my sister, in every sense of the word." Deng sighed, "And for some reason that now escapes me she adores you."

"Thank you," he raised his eyes to her.

"For the butt whipping? Anytime." Deng cleared the tea tray off the table, "Just don't hurt her Grissom, you hurt her, I hurt you, capuche? Right now she's just upset, real upset, but upset. Hurt her and die." Deng's tone was humorous, but hers eyes told a different story.

"Understood," Grissom sat back in the comfortable, expensively so, living room, "Am I welcome to stay?"

"Always," Deng Xao smiled, "If she's my sister that makes you an honorary brother, of sorts. Far be it for me to deny a family member a bed. You can have Sara's room, unless you want to be a guest?"

"I'll take it," he agreed.

"All yours" she swept off to the kitchen, checked once with the maid, than barricaded herself in the study. Logging on to her computer, she grinned wickedly at the message waiting for her in her inbox.

It was from cwillows@LVPD.org, consisting of one word: "Well?"

Grinning madly, a look almost identical to Sara's maniacal glee at a successful case, she typed in a reply: Bugman is in the house. Guilt trip laid. C-me @ 6 A.M. At the appointed hour, although early for Deng Xao, she waited near her Instant Messenger box. It dinged.

cwillows typed: Well?

DXW responded: He's wallowing in it; I'd give him a day before he's back

nstokes typed: Sure?

DXW responded: yes!

wbrown typed: do you think it will work?

DXW responded: hopefully, I've never known her to not forgive him

nstokes typed: she's really pissed

DXW responded: she might be living with you now, but she's been with me forever. I know Sara; she'll forgive him if he asks for it.

cwillows typed: will he do it?

DXW responded: that I have no control over. Cross your fingers.

nstokes typed: do you want us to do anything?

DXW responded: have her there when he gets there the more tired the better

wbrown typed: wilco, anything else?

DXW responded: pray

cwillows typed: she's back, I gotta run, good luck guys

"Hey Catherine," Sara called out, "You busy?"

"Phone," Catherine waved her cell, "Eddie left an E-mail" she had a slight qualm in lying to the younger woman, but assured herself it was for the best. "Just typing back"

"Is everything Ok?" Sara's brows joined and she frowned, worried.

"Yeah, he'll just be late. Again," Catherine forced a wry grin.

"Bastard" Sara said with real venom, none of the CSI liked Eddie.

"Yeah, well we all have our skeletons." Sara did a double take to see if the comment was directed in the manner it had been taken, but Catherine had her back turned and was digging for her kit. "C'mon, let's go get this guy."

She and Sara entered the residence of Angel Gutierrez, their search warrant tucked triumphantly in his lawyer's pocket. Apparently finding the DNA of the bomber on his hands was enough for Judge Walker to authorize the home invasion. They were looking for anything to connect him to the bomber, including clothing, fibres, any bodily residues, and any other thing that they could possibly think of to examine.

"Upstairs or Downstairs?"

"Top down I guess"

"Cool," they trooped up the staircase, and began the search in the master bedroom. Catherine started in the bathroom, Sara, in the sleeping area.

"So Sara, I hear you're sleeping with Nick" to this comment she received a satisfying crash from the bedroom as something slipped out of Sara's hands.

"Who the hell told you that?" the outraged Sidle asked.

"Nobody," Catherine said amicably, "It's kind of obvious when you show up together driving his car."          

"Did not!" she protested, they'd been driving her car.

"Sara," Catherine said in that patient mommy-knows-already-so-why-are-you-trying-to-hide-it tone of voice.

"Well it's not like we're…sleeping together. We're just sleeping …together."

"Oh now that makes sense" Catherine teased, "Whasamatter, cat got your tongue? Or maybe Nick's got it somewhere, hmmm?"

"Catherine!" she exclaimed, and felt her cheeks heat. Sending a glare towards the bathroom she saw the other woman grinning madly. Sara's face now flaming like a fourth of July firecracker; she stuck her aforementioned tongue out at Catherine before the two of them dissolved into helpless giggles, like a pair of teenagers.    

Sara lolling on the floor caught herself, "Damn it Cath,"

"Sorry, I just had to say it, you left yourself wide open" Sara rolled on her stomach to face the bathroom and smiled, genuinely, at her friend. Catherine grinned back, accepting the relationship and all it represented in the easy gesture.

"So…"Sara prodded.

"So what?" Catherine asked, "Do you want me to give you my approval or something?"

"Maybe"

"Do you need it?"

"No," Sara blushed, again, "but…"

"Nick's good man, but you know that." Catherine said, "Go for it, hell, if I were ten years younger I'd give you a run for your money."

"Don't you dare!" Sara warned.

"Wouldn't dream of it, I promise" Catherine folded her hands "Cross my heart"

"Good," Sara sat back up, resuming her dusting of the bedroom and its fixtures. The Red Creeper powder in its neat little tin was a glaring reminder of who was not there at the moment. "Hey Cath,"

"Yeah?"

"You heard from Grissom lately?" Surprised at the timing of the question, but not the contents, Catherine pondered her options.

"I haven't heard from him since the end of that day. He took vacation." Technically she was truthful; they'd gone to visit the body early in the afternoon on the day of the shift that Sara'd walked out, although she was sure that wasn't quite what Sara had in mind for an answer. 

"He did?" Sara had yet to return to the main CSI building, instead taking fieldwork where she wouldn't have the chance to run into him.

"Yeah," deciding to make a point or at least a stab at one, "I think … I think you've upset him Sara. He's in a bit over his head."

"Oh really?" her voice dripped sardonic sarcasm. 

"What he did was wrong, Sara. But I've known Grissom at least as long as you have, he's …he just doesn't understand that people can be hurt by the things he says. Especially if they're true."

"You don't need to justify him to me, Catherine." Sara sighed, resigned, "God knows that I should understand.

"Give him a chance," Sara was silent, Catherine could see reflected in the bathroom mirror that the face of the young CSI was set like stone, with a few defiant tears trailing down and Sara stubbornly ignoring them.

Diplomatically, Catherine decided not to push it.