Are we having fun yet?

By Ria

a.n. Thank you to anyone who has been reading this series and stuck with it, and especially for the feedback. This is the last but one part, and I promise it does come to a conclusion at least after all this angst. If you've missed parts you can find them archived at my site www.csichaostheory.co.uk

Sara worked hard, diligent, ever the professional. It had always served her well, her professionalism. It meant she could drop herself in work, anytime, any place, and not have to think about her life for a while. Or, more importantly, not think about him for a while.

The words stung. Re-treading the same conversation over and over. "I said I'd see you tonight…I missed you too."

Of course Sara didn't know who the words were said to. They could have been to anyone. But she knew the tone, knew the affliction on the words would only ever be towards a lover. It made his behaviour over the last few meetings all the more incomprehensible; if he had someone else, why was he still bent out of shape at her leaving. He'd obviously moved on. More than she had managed anyway.

Not thinking about it. Sara reminded herself. Unfortunately, now she had all the time in the world to do just that. The case was cracked. The elation that should have been there had been severely dented, the satisfaction of a job well done absent in spite of the relative quick success.

It truly was a case of wrong place for Grissom, of rotten timing. An opportunistic house burglar, with Grandma's gun no less, out for a few bucks, ending up with an attempted murder rap instead. A seventeen year old who should have been in school. A smart enough boy that he knew to wear gloves to disguise finger prints. Not smart enough, seeing as he stripped off the gloves at the first trash can he came to, leaving inside a friction ridge print fat enough to put him away inside for a nice long stretch. DNA confirmed the story the print told. The boy, seeing all the evidence laid out in front of him had started crying. If Sara had been feeling slightly more sympathetic she would have felt sorry for him. Instead she just looked at the pathetic weeping creature in front of her, and wondered what on earth the world was coming to.

'It was just for a laugh, you know?' He had sniffed, looking at her before they led him away.

'A life for a laugh.' Sara had said bitterly. 'Nice trade.'

It was a disappointment really. That Grissom's life had almost been lost to that. For a laugh, for a game. For nothing. It was such a waste.

And now, paperwork sorted, evidence processed and packed as necessary, the news was making the rounds of the CSI labs that a perp had been found and was currently getting processed at the city jail. Sara had escaped before too many people could come find her and start asking questions about the case, but now found herself in limbo. Alone in a city that she used to call home. That still felt like the place she should be. She cruised around for a while, not wanting to go back to a hotel room she hadn't yet used than more than a dumping ground for a change of clothes.

Finally she found herself heading toward the hospital. Someone should tell Grissom his shooter had been caught she decided.

It was evening, Sara realised when she got to the hospital, the sun almost an apparition at the horizon. It was as if the day had just by passed her completely. Considering she hadn't slept in almost thirty-six hours, it was only now that the lack of sleep was starting to hit.

Grissom was still out cold, looking peaceful and asleep now. For a moment, Sara stood at the doorway, the door closed behind her, just watching him sleep. She'd known Grissom a long time, since Grad school, but had never seen him asleep before. She realised this wasn't exactly a natural slumber but Sara thought of it as one; the body using the downtime to heal. The nurse had told her that he was going to be fine. Sara would probably believe her more when Grissom was awake and alert and quoting Shakespeare.

She didn't know where to start. She had so much to tell him. About the boy who had almost killed him. About coming back to Las Vegas after six months to find that everything and nothing had changed. She was so mixed up, and Grissom, lying there unable to interrupt offered the first silent, non-judgemental ear to listen to her. She had often wondered why people talked to people in a coma. It might be because on some level they could sense their presence; after all, hearing was one of the last senses to fail. But really, Sara thought, it was because having a person there, just there and not able to disagree or contradict or interrupt made having a conversation so much easier.

She eventually stepped further into the room. Sat down on the edge of the seat beside his bed, for a moment watching the ECG tracing of the electrical activity in Gris's heart before she opened her mouth and words just seemed to spill in a rush from it. She told him about the boy. About him breaking down and crying when he realised, not that he had almost killed someone but that he had been caught and was going away for it. How much of a waste, of a sense of failure Sara had felt when the case had unravelled in that way.

It was if she couldn't stop talking, because she found herself telling him about how hard it was to be back here. How hard, and yet the contradictory feeling she was getting of being in a place that she knew so well, that felt like home much more than where she currently lived. That she was starting to feel torn in the decision she had made to leave. At the time it had been the best thing to do, and yet now she was regretting the decision.

She eventually grew silent, feeling as if a heavy burden had been lifted from her. Someone else knew. And yes, Grissom might have been unconscious, but just saying all her thoughts aloud made them seem a little bit more realistic to deal with. And this way she didn't have to deal with the embarrassment of someone knowing how she felt. She went back to watching the regular rise and fall of the ECG monitor, leaning her head back against the chair, lulled into sleep by the regular movement.

A hand on her shoulder shocked her awake. She looked up at Nick, watching her in concern, attempting a half smile. 'Hey.' She said, struggling to wake up properly, looking up at the clock to see she had only been asleep half an hour at the most.

'Hey.' Nick said, taking a seat next to her. 'How's he doing?'

'Well, he's unconscious.' Sara said, then bit down on the sarcasm. 'But he's going to be fine.'

Nick smiled. 'That's good to hear.'

Sara nodded in agreement.

'I heard you found the perp.' Nick commented.

Sara shrugged. 'Wasn't hard.'

'Still, at least someone will pay for this.'

Sara followed his eyeline, looking over at Grissom. 'Yeah, someone will pay.' Sara echoed, not sharing the fact that it didn't feel enough that the snivelling boy would be the only one paying.

'Are you alright?'

Sara turned at Nick's concerned tone. 'Just tired.' She told him.

Nick studied her for a moment too long before turning away, nodding. 'You wanna go get some dinner? I don't have to be at work for a few hours yet.'

'Sure, sounds good.'

They stayed only a little longer, till Catherine turned up, and they left her alone with Grissom. They drove to a little French restaurant off the beaten track they had been to before.

'So, how long are you gonna be in town?' Nick asked after they'd both ordered.

Sara shrugged, reaching for a piece of bread, realising only now how hungry she was. 'I don't know; a few days maybe.' She answered.

An awkward silence descended on the table, Sara knew Nick was dying to ask something but was stalling. She decided she was too tired to wait.

'You can ask, you know.' She told him.

He looked at her in surprise. 'Sorry?'

'Well you're dying to ask, aren't you? If I've talked to Warrick.'

Nick tried to look non-plussed, then spoiled it by asking 'have you?'

'We've exchanged a few words.' Sara said mildly.

'And how loud were those words?' Nick asked.

Sara smiled slightly. Then sighed. 'I don't get why he's angry at me.' She said, looking off, over his shoulder, for a moment forgetting he was there.

'Because he doesn't know how else to be.' Nick said softly. 'You know, he missed you.'

'Yeah, I'm sure between dating all these women he was really pining for me.' Sara said, settling for sarcasm to deflect the hurt boiling up inside of her.

Nick looked up confused. 'What other women?'

'Oh, I overheard him speaking to his girlfriend; looks like he found a way to get over me.'

'It hasn't been like that, Sara.'

'Yeah, I'm sure.'

'No, really. He was really cut up when you left.'

'Just not enough to come and tell me.'

'He was just hurt.'

'Yeah, and I suppose I was prancing around the hills singing the hills are alive.'

Nick smiled slightly at the image, but soon turned serious again. 'Why didn't you call him?' He asked instead.

'I wasn't the one making it abundantly clear that there was nothing there.'

'Well, he seemed to think you were.'

Sara looked at him, assessing his words.

'Gee, you know, both of you are as bad as the other. If just one of you had got over yourself and called…' He trailed off. 'You know it's not too late.'

'It's way too late.'

'You don't know that. You both left things up in the air- you need to get some resolve.'

'Well, seeing as whatever I say or do seems to set him off talking isn't the easiest thing to do.'

'Oh, Warrick wants to talk.' Nick reassured her. 'He's just like all us guys, waiting for someone else to start for him.'

'It was never meant to be this hard.' Sara murmured into her wine as she took a sip.

Nick looked at her, waiting for more.

'Do you know how much I didn't want to come back? It's crossed my mind countless times, but every time I went to pick up the phone I couldn't seem to dial. I was scared.' She shook her head. 'And it seems I had every right to be. Because I want to be here, I feel like I belong here, but I have no reason to come back for.'

'You have every reason to come back. Work-'

'That can't be the reason I come back.' Sara interrupted. 'I'll end up burning out again. And I've only just got over that. That was hard enough.' She muttered.

'Do you have feelings for him?' Nick asked abruptly.

Sara looked at him in shock. 'I don't think that's-'

'Because,' Nick carried on as if she hadn't spoken, 'only you can know that, and if you do, then don't you think you owe it to yourself to at least tell him that? Because Warrick assumes you don't.' he stopped, wondering if he had spoken out of turn. Then again, he had sat back and watched two people destroy themselves because neither seemed to be willing to start the conversation.

They ate, near enough in silence, Sara obviously deep in thought. Nick just hoped she would tell some of those thoughts to Warrick rather than let another goodbye pass between them.

Sara found getting to sleep that night hard. Part of it was because of the strange room, strange environment, and even stranger sounds coming from the room next door. Most of it was, however, because she couldn't get what Nick had said out of her head. What if Warrick was as scared of starting a conversation as she was? What if he was waiting for her to start, for whatever reason? What if he was waiting for her to say the words because he didn't know how too?

She knew how hard it was to say what was on your mind without other words coming out instead. She was a master at not saying what she really wanted to say. Look at how she'd said goodbye. It didn't mean anything. That it was easier this way. When really, it had meant everything and it had been a lot harder that way. It was just those words were harder to risk saying, the reaction to them harder to predict. Sara didn't know if she had the strength to risk everything again on the slight chance Warrick didn't think of there relationship as just that one night and that was all. She had carved out a whole new safety net in another state, and she didn't know if she was willing to risk everything once again. Not for him. She wasn't sure that it would be worth it in the end.

What was the worst that could happen? A little voice inside her head asked, sounding a lot like Nick, freakily enough. The worst, she answered herself, the worst would be that she would be left alone. Left alone, and without the hope she had kept alive since that night that it could be more than an exquisite one off. The worst would be that he would laugh at any notion of the two of them being together, that he would taunt her with the fact that he already had someone else, that he had moved on in her absence, that she had left it too late.

The worst would be that she could bare her soul for nothing. Admit her feelings and come away with nothing but the pain she had just spent six months trying to get past.

No, she didn't know if she could go through it. Not just for him. Especially not just for him. She didn't know if she could trust him not to leave at the end of the night without saying goodbye.

The next day, she caught up with a few friends in the city, visited the labs to see Greg and a few other people. Went shopping for clothes as she really hadn't brought enough. It was late afternoon when she dropped in to see Grissom, startling Catherine slightly out of a reverie.

'Hey.' Catherine greeted her, sitting up, looking suspiciously happy.

'What is it?' Sara asked quickly.

'Oh Grissom woke up. Asked if anyone was feeding his spider. If we had managed to catch the perp because he was sure that there would be evidence somewhere in the house.'

'Sounds like Grissom.' Sara said happily, sitting down next to Catherine.

'Yep, it did.' Catherine said, reflecting Sara's happiness. 'It was good to hear him like normal. He even asked if I'd finished all his paperwork yet.'

Sara grinned.

'I meant to tell you, before you left yesterday, you did a good job on the case; no way is that one gonna slip through the net.'

Sara nodded the compliment away. 'Just doing my job.' She said, before she realised what she said. 'I mean, happy to help.' She quickly corrected but the words weren't lost on Catherine.

'You miss it, don't you?' The older CSI asked quietly.

'Sometimes.' At Catherine's look she corrected herself. 'A lot.'

'You can come back, you know. There would always be a job here.'

Sara didn't say anything, the words she had spoken to Nick last night returning, that she couldn't come back just for work.

'Hasn't been the same without you.' Catherine added.

'I don't know if work's enough.' Sara said softly.

Catherine thought about this. 'Well, you know, Grissom's gonna be out for a while. Six weeks if the doctor's get their way. We could do with some cover for that period. You can dip your feet in, as it were. See if you want to come back without the pressure of having to stay.'

'I don't know Cath. I just don't know if I can. I have another job.'

'If it helps, we all get burned out once in a while. But you're too good a CSI to waste it all doing research projects for the bureau. You should be back out in the field, making a difference. Because even when it doesn't feel like it, you do make a difference.'

'Until the next case that gets thrown out because the perp has a better attorney than the state.' Sara said bitterly.

'It doesn't end at one court case. So it gets thrown out- it's not your fault. It just means next time, and there's always another chance to catch the guy, you'll just be ten times more vigilant in putting him away. If you give up, and the guy gets away with it again and again; that's when they win.'

Sara was more than glad that Grissom decided to wake up then, deflecting the conversation away from her. As they left, Catherine added. 'Just give me a ring when you've thought about it. No pressure.' She said, leaving it at that, for which Sara was glad.