It wasn't my idea to come back.

By Ria

www.csichaostheory.co.uk

The room Sara eventually checked into was small but fairly clean, functional if all you needed was a bed for the night. Sara wasn't sure that it was even going to see that much action. She dumped her bag before going out again to find something to eat. It was dark when she got back to the hotel, and after taking a much needed shower and changing clothes, she got the hotel doorman to hail her a cab. The streets grew more familiar the closer to the CSI labs they got, and for a few moments, when the cab pulled up outside of the low slung building, it was all Sara could do to sit and stare at it.

The cabbie managed to wait about five seconds before unsubtly clearing his throat from the front seat. 'Eight dollars and twenty cents.' He told her loudly, breaking her out of the spell that had temporarily held her captive.

Sara paid up and got out, for a moment loitering on the sidewalk in an attempt to collect her thoughts. It didn't seem possible that she had walked out of here six months ago promising herself that she would never come back here.

Her reasons at the time were multi-faceted but boiled down to the same thing. She couldn't cope anymore. She had burned out. She couldn't do her job anymore, not effectively anyway.

At the time it had been the right choice to make. Standing there and looking up at a building that she had spent so much time populating, six months seemed a long time ago.

Stepping into the building felt akin to going home. Living six months in rented accommodation, for the first time in a long time she felt like she was where she was meant to be. It surprised her, that feeling, getting it in this place, but she didn't have time to dwell on it; a familiar voice yelled at her down the hall.

Sara turned a smile on Greg, a genuine smile that after so long some things hadn't changed. Greg still bounded around like an energetic puppy. He grabbed her by the arm, dragging her to the break room, drawing smiles and looks as they went, more than a few greetings thrown their way.

The break room was still functional rather than pretty, although the smell of brewing coffee was as welcoming as ever. She poured herself and Greg a mug each, settling it on the low table by the couches.

'Is Catherine in yet?' She asked as Greg sat down too.

'She's around somewhere. It's a pretty slow night.' He didn't add the luckily but Sara heard it there anyway. When it was one of your own, it changed everything.

'Who's working Grissom's case?' Sara asked.

'I should be getting back to work.' Greg said, dodging the question with no attempt to answer it. He stood up, coffee in hand.

'Greg?' Sara's voice stopped him before he could walk out. 'What's going on?'

Greg turned to her for a moment, not smiling. 'Go talk to Catherine.' He advised before walking out. For a moment, the Greg she had known working in the lab was gone, no more the youthful scientist keen to please. He was suddenly older, wiser, hardened. It was the Greg she had heard on the phone that morning telling her to come here.

As he walked away, again Sara did exactly what he told her to do.

She found Catherine in Grissom's office. Considering that his was the only office in the CSI labs, it had been the first place that she had tried. Catherine was in the middle of staring at a place on the back of the wall as Sara walked in, interrupting her. Catherine straightened up, shuffling a few papers around, as Sara looked over her shoulder. 'Anything interesting over there?' She asked with a small smile.

Catherine allowed the comment a sarcastic look as she gestured for Sara to sit down. 'I've been trying to get my head round some of this paperwork that needs to be done.' She put the paper down on the desk, straightening it in a pile. 'I swear, Grissom might be a genius but he sucks at office keeping.'

'I don't think Grissom will take that as much of an offence.'

'No, I don't suppose he will.' Catherine said with a smile. 'Oh well. He'd better be out of that hospital quick or I'm taking all this to him.'

'Have you heard anything?' Sara said, growing serious.

'I phoned up a while back- all they'd say was he was stable.'

'Well that's something I suppose.' Sara said.

For a moment they were both quiet, contemplating the man whose office they sat in.

'So, what do you want, Catherine? I'm sure you didn't invite me here to complain about Grissom's work habits.'

Catherine smiled at that. 'I asked you here…to ask you a favour.'

'No.' Sara said straight out before Catherine continued.

'You don't even know what I'm going to ask!' Catherine exclaimed.

'I don't need to hear it. I won't do it.' Sara said, something that Greg had said coming back to her. She had known what Catherine was going to ask before she'd even started to speak.

'Sara…' Catherine said, a pleading quality to her tone.

'What about the other shifts?'

'I don't want the other shifts to do it! And none of us can do it, obviously. That leaves you, Sara.'

'You want me to investigate Grissom's attack? Even though I've known him since I was in Grad school, and you don't think someone's going to have issues with that?'

'The DA wants a quick case. And more crucially you haven't been here, and you don't work here. That makes you the best candidate. And I know you can be objective, that you can do your job without being pressured from above.'

She stopped, probably cause Sara was still shaking her head. 'I can't do it, Cath.' The pleading quality had somehow transferred itself to her voice now.

Catherine didn't say anything straight away, just looked at her, carefully assessing her next choice of words. 'I don't want some stranger here, trampling over everything, asking about Grissom. You know him, as well as anyone does. Everyone is already shocked and finding it hard to cope, the last thing we need is some well meaning person from somewhere else muscling in here and causing more people to be on edge.'

Sara had stopped shaking her head. It didn't mean she was liking this idea any more, though. 'What happens, when you don't like what I find. Or I can't arrest a suspect?' Sara finally asked.

Catherine tried not to visibly wince at the memories. 'I know you're a damn good investigator, Sara. And I will take anything you report as final.' She said.

'I don't like this, Cath. This is Grissom. He's lying there in that hospital bed.'

'Which is exactly why you should be doing this!' Catherine interrupted her. 'Don't you think he deserves it? Deserves some justice? Look, if I could do it, I would; but I'm too close- it would be thrown straight out of court.'

'I have a job, you know.'

'Look- it'll take you what, a few days, a week max to complete your investigation? I'm sure you can get that off work. Then you can go back home and get on with your life. But I'm sure that you'll want to be around to make sure Grissom is ok.'

Sara sighed. She looked all around, at the jars of animal embryos, samples of insects. She didn't want to do this; she didn't want to be the one to be investigating Grissom's attack, to have that much pressure on her to get results. But something Catherine had just said caught her by surprise. Caught her on the hop as it were. And for some reason, she couldn't think of any reason not to.

She sat there, in silence. Catherine joined her, knowing Sara enough to know when to stay silent, to let her make up her own mind. Sara sighed. Shifted in her seat. Sighed again. Because she couldn't see another option. She knew what it was like. After all she had been the outsider- the one who came in to investigate. It didn't matter that this time she wasn't investigating one of their own, it still involved them. They were emotionally attached to the case; they wanted what everyone else wanted when they knew the victim, were involved with the victim. They wanted justice, revenge…an arrest, someone to hold up a perp and say this is the bad guy, and he did this, and now he's going to the state penitentiary for X amount of years to pay for what he did. And Sara was also intimately aware of the likely reaction if she couldn't hold up that someone.

Then this was Grissom. She had as much feelings, and emotions about this as anyone else. More perhaps, or certainly different, anyway. She wanted the bad guy put away. Wanted justice. Revenge, even. She wanted to be the one to put him away, assuming it was a him of course, wanted to be the one to find him. That thirst hadn't left her in the last six months. If anything it had returned. Her passion, her energy for the job had been the thing to desert her, to make her burn up, force her to make a conscious decision to leave. And now it was back, there burning slowly away inside of her.

Even if it was for just this one case, maybe, just maybe, it would be enough.

Even as she was nodding her assent to Catherine, though, even as in her mind she was trying to convince herself of that, her heart was quietly, but surely, convincing her that it wasn't going to be that easy. That one case wasn't going to be enough.

Case file in hand, she deliberately avoided Greg on the way back out. Her first port of call, on this case, would be Brass, who was personally overseeing the case, even though it wasn't strictly a homicide. He greeted her in his usual manner; he told her the pertinent facts of the case without even so much as a "welcome back". Sara smiled as she listened; it was like she had never left.

He drove her to the scene of the crime. Sara was deliberately thinking about it in those terms; not Grissom's house, or Grissom's attack. Brass was doing it to, strictly talk of the victim, never Grissom. It made it easier.

In a way.

To see the hole in the wall from the bullet. To see the pool of blood already congealed in the doorway. To see scratch marks on the door, and blood spots on the walls. To disassociate it from Grissom, to not think of it as Grissom's blood on the floor, or Grissom's coat flung haphazardly over a seat at the kitchen table; that the now cold coffee, and slice of toast ready to be consumed were from a man they knew; who was now laid out on a hospital bed.

Sara worked diligently, mostly in silence. Slipping back into routines, procedures she knew as well as her bedtime routine. It made it easier, that she didn't have to think of anything but the particulars of the case.

It came as a shock, when she had finished collecting and collating and thinking over the case, as she packed her case and nodded at Brass who had silently watched her throughout, that Warrick hadn't crossed her mind once.

The man she had spent six months close to obsessing over, someone who could barely leave her thoughts, had not entered them since she'd stepped into this scene. Was this progress? Or was it that with having too many thoughts in it's space, her mind had just shut down that part temporarily. Because certainly, as they travelled back to the labs in the same silence they had travelled to it, Warrick was suddenly there, all around her. Sara thought back to their short, certainly not peaceful, conversation in the lobby in the hospital. Wondered what he'd have to say when he found out she was staying to work Grissom's case. Wishing she could shut down that part of her brain again, because she knew exactly what he would say, and exactly what she would say in response.

Brass glanced over at her as they pulled into the CSI labs. 'You ok?' he asked softly.

'I'll be fine.' Sara said firmly.

'Look- I know you've been a way a while. But I can't think of anyone else who should be working this case. And if you have any trouble. Any hassle. You point them my way.'

Sara wondered, as she nodded and moved to open the door, what he'd think if she sent Warrick his way. Because if she was going to get any hassle, it would be from him, it would be from Warrick for taking the case, and her reasons behind it, not for the reasons that Brass was alluding to. Although, it was nice to know that she had that option.

By ten the next morning, Sara was feeling that familiar frustration, that familiar edginess of working a case. But another feeling, that was also so familiar. The rush of working a case; of getting a hit off AFIS to a partial she had found on the doorknob. Of sending Brass on the judge hunt to get a warrant. Of having a name, and a suspect. Of hitting one dead end to having another route open up for her. The partial was meant to be there.

There were many things that were not, however. A long claw ended lever used on the door. No fingerprints but epithelial cells, maybe, off the end. Criminals were getting smarter; they knew where fingerprints were, and how to disguise them. However DNA off a tiny cell that was not visible to the human eye was beyond most people. Sara was running the bullet through ballistics, waiting for results to come back to point in a direction when Greg knocked on the doorframe to the lab.

'Got the DNA for you. No hit on CODIS, but it is XY.'

'Perps male; there's a surprise.' Sara murmured taking the piece of paper.

'You didn't think it was possible Grissom had a jealous ex lover or something?' Greg asked with a smile.

'I don't think things could change that much in six months.' Sara said.

'True. Not much has changed.' Greg said, coming closer, taking a seat. 'What you doing?'

Sara pointed with her chin at the computer. 'I'm running the shell from the bullet through the databases, see if it's been used before.' Sara told him.

'So what's your initial feeling?' Greg asked.

Sara hesitated, not knowing if she wanted to get into it with anyone this early.

'It's ok, you don't have to.' Greg said to rescue the silence.

'No, it's not that. I just don't have enough yet to form that kind of feeling. It's all been too much of a shock to process.'

'Grissom was meant to be at work. Did you know that? He went home early cause it was so quiet.' Greg told her.

'It could be a case of wrong place, wrong time.' Sara said with a shrug, as the computer beeped loudly to signify the end of its search. 'No match.' Sara sighed.

Sara stood up. 'I'm gonna go see Brass. See if he's got anything more. Thanks, Greg.'

'Just bring me something to compare; it'll be top priority.' He told her.

'I know.'

Sara stopped in a deserted hallway, leaning back against the wall, taking a few deep breaths. She was running through the motions, but not making any tracks. She wondered briefly what the hell she was doing. Then decided that answer was too long winded, and decided instead she had to step back briefly, get everything in order. It wasn't the first time Greg had come to find her; although it was the first time because he had results for her. She knew he was meant well, making sure she had everything she needed, Catherine was doing the same.

If it was her, on the outside looking in, Sara knew she would likely be having the same reaction. However, it wasn't. She was the one they were expecting to deliver results, and Sara was feeling the pressure. Sara also knew she had to be very careful not to compromise any results by disclosing anything, even inadvertently to someone who didn't need to know. Court cases had been thrown out on a lot less, and if Sara had a suspect, she didn't want to lose him in the system.

She wanted to get the guy who had done this, and as Grissom was so fond of saying, there was going to be only one way of doing it. She had to follow the evidence, see where it led. It had to be the way. She just had to make sense of the evidence she had. She had to go back to the scene.

Standing outside, she called through to Brass, telling him her plan. He agreed, asked if she wanted some backup. Sara declined, wanting some space to take a time out and examine the case without being watched from above.

Catherine had afforded her full, if temporary, privileges, which meant she was back to the holster on her hip and a badge around her neck. It also meant she had some transport, and didn't need to rely on cabs when she was working. It was strange how un-strange carrying the badge, the gun felt.

She exited through the back door, only to bash into Warrick coming in. He looked good, and she couldn't help the flip-flop reaction of her heart on sight.

He looked her up and down as she was forced to step back into the lab. He took off the aviator sunglasses on entering the gloom, taking in the gun and badge.

'So, it's true then?'

Sara looked around seeing an empty corridor behind her before looking back at Warrick. 'What's true?' She asked casually.

'That you're back. Working Grissom's case.' Warrick's tone told her he wasn't buying the innocent act.

She considered sarcasm, but settled for a mild 'news travels fast in this place.' She looked at him, his arms crossed, his shoulders tense. He hadn't changed much in appearance. His hair slightly shorter maybe. His brown eyes were piercing as he looked at her. He looked angry. Not unlike last time they had a talk. She just wasn't sure what she was meant to have done that was so bad.

Or why she wasn't angry at him.

'So, any suspects yet? An arrest?' Warrick, it seemed, wasn't avoiding the sarcasm.

'What is it that I've done that's so bad?' Sara hissed at him.

But Warrick either didn't want to get into it in the lab, or didn't have an answer to her question. 'You know, if you need a hand, everyone's around.' He said, 'In case you've forgotten procedure or something.' He added. 'I've got to go.' He added, walking past her, leaving her stunned, standing alone in the middle of corridor. Feeling the biting sting of his harsh words cut deep. She wasn't going to leave it there, though. She'd had enough of biting comments. Enough of his tone.

She traced back to the break room, then the locker room, finding him at his locker. Words floated, echoed in the room, and at first Sara assumed there was someone else in the room. It wasn't till she looked round that she saw Warrick was speaking into his cell-phone, his back to her. She turned round, deciding that it wasn't really the time or place anyway for this conversation. They were both emotional, too emotional.

'Babe, hey, I said I'd see you tonight and I meant it.' Sara stopped short at the locker door at Warrick's soft teasing tone. 'Yeah, I know, I missed you too.'

Sara opened the door, stepping silently out of the locker room, leaning her back against the door. At least she knew now. No conversation needed. He obviously hadn't been thinking about her the same as she'd been thinking about him.

She should have realised when he hadn't bothered to say goodbye.