A/N:  Reposting a story finished last season.  The story is an A/U and a crossover of CSI/Pretender/Agency.

Disclaimer:  I do not own or pretend to own any portion of CSI, Pretender or The Agency.  Just playing with them.

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1992

            Two in the morning on the coast of Delaware, the tide throws the waves crashing against the cliffs.  Searchlights come on in the distance.  A young woman with blonde hair and brown eyes twists toward the lights and crouches low so as not to be seen.  Through the shadows she glimpses the steely gray gothic-style building, faintly aware of the intermittent sirens surrounding it.  She is dressed fully in black, complete with smudges of mud on her face.  The manhole she has just recently climbed out of is re-covered by sure and steady hands with the lid.  She swiftly covers the edges with dirt, making it appear as though it had never been disturbed.  The sound of ferocious dogs barking draws her attention to the hills behind the building.  Three hunched down figures are diligently making their way from the it.

            She had been told they would try to escape that night.  One had asked her to join them.  She refused.  Three of them would be a tough escape but four was definitely pushing it.  To do it right, with no chance of capture, she'd have to do it alone.

            She quietly speaks to the darkness, "Good luck boys."  Then she turned into the shadows, disappearing into the night.

1995

            Harvard was a haven.  Smiling, she recalled the memory of when she first saw the name of the school.  Sydney had been one of the few bright spots of her so-called childhood.  She had seen it emblazoned on one of those certificates on his office wall.  She had never doubted that with her intellect she would be accepted.  She had needed to provide a background for herself, but for a person with her training that was no great challenge.  She had filled out all the forms, created transcripts and letters of recommendation and changed her appearance.  She was now Sara Sidle, Harvard student.  Now she had to decide what direction her studies should take.  She just knew that she wanted a career that would focus on helping people, especially women.

            Sara took a seat in the theater, where a lecture on Forensic Science was about to begin.  The instructor, Gil Grissom, had just finished writing his name on the board and was setting out a collection of specimen jars and slides.  Some of the jars contained what appeared to be preserved animals.  She shuddered involuntarily, realizing what the other jars contained.  Oh, God, she thought, I hate bugs.

            The lecture almost became a game.  She tried to guess where he would go next with his comments, as she had done with Mr. Raines.  She kept thinking that she knew exactly where he was heading, but then he would look at her and suddenly go off in a completely different direction.  And there was something about the way he looked at her.  The first time their eyes met she felt a little jolt of fear, because for a split second she thought that he had recognized her.  But that's impossible, she told herself.  I've never seen this man before.  She certainly enjoyed listening to him, though.  His voice was soothing, but it was obvious that he was passionate about what he taught.

            Throughout his lecture, Gil Grissom watched her, wondering why he felt as if she was staring right through him.  She took notes – not diligently, but some.

            He ended the lecture with the statement, "The evidence never lies."  The quiet of the room was immediately broken by the sounds of books closing, backpacks being packed, and students talking as they made their way out of the theater.  Sara was not ready to leave quite yet, though.  She wanted to ask him a question or maybe more than one if he had the time.

            She made her way to the front of the room, where another student was talking to Grissom.  Grissom's head was down; he was packing his briefcase while talking.  As the other student walked away, Grissom snapped his briefcase shut and began to pack his jars and slides into a box.  He didn't even look up as Sara placed a large jar of cockroaches in his hand.

            "Need some help?" she asked.  Her voice was deep, slightly gravelly, but with a slight shakiness that made Grissom feel like she was forcing the words out.

            "Not really, Miss..."  He looked up into the deepest brown eyes, eyes he could almost become lost in.

            She reached out her right hand, and he took it.  "Sara…Sara Sidle."

            "Miss Sidle.  No, I don't really need help, but if you want to help you're welcome to."

            They kept looking at each other like they had known each other for years.  "If it's all right, I'll help you and maybe you'll answer some of my questions," Sara said.

            "Okay, starting with what?" Gil wondered what kind of questions she would be posing.

            "Well for one, why do you do this?" she asked bluntly.

            "This, as in the lectures or this, as in Forensics?"

            "This, as in the Forensics… I am curious as to why."

            "Well," he wasn't sure how to respond.  He'd never been asked that except by coworkers.  "I guess because of the fulfillment, of solving something that seems to be so hard to explain and yet can be reduced to such a simple thing."

            "You mean the evidence?"

            "Yes, and then of course there is the fulfillment in helping the victim by finding out who harmed or killed them, and also giving closure to the families."

            "You made the statement, the evidence never lies… but it can be falsified, thereby becoming a lie." Sara watched him closely to see his reaction to this statement.

            Oh that's a good one, she's quick, he thought.  "Good point, but, I have to disagree, the evidence can be falsified but it doesn't lie; it just gives a new pattern to the story."

            "Hmmm, would you care to debate that over a cup of coffee?"  Sara didn't know why she asked him, but she wanted to know more about this man who fascinated her so much.  She would have to tread carefully; he seemed like the type that would analyze a person until he knew everything that made that person tick.  She would have to be very careful.

            "Coffee would be great."  He'd said it so quickly it sounded like he'd done so without thinking, and the frown on his forehead gave him the appearance as if that's exactly what he did.

            They walked and talked about Forensics for two hours after they had gotten some coffee at a nearby café.  He kept trying to swing the conversation to her background, where she came from, her family, her interests, and soon she found that making up a background was quite easy.  She also realized she was falling back into her training.

            He said he would be giving two more lectures that week so they arranged to meet each night at the coffee shop.  During their discussions it hit him how good she'd be if she chose Forensics.  He'd invited her to join him that summer in Las Vegas and intern with the Crime Lab.  She'd said she would see and give him a call if it worked out.      In June she called, and had to tell him she wouldn't be able to make it.  Disappointment was apparent in her voice and something else… something akin to apprehension… but why?  He must have heard it wrong.  He told her to keep in touch.  She said she would.  As she hung up the phone, she turned to look at the three gentlemen with her in the car.  One was a close friend that she hadn't seen in four years, and the other two were strangers to her but he considered them his friends.  She trusted him.

            She traveled with them to Washington, D.C., to the Central Intelligence headquarters neighboring nearby in Langley.  She would for a short time become a consultant to the Agency.  The plan was that they were going to take out those responsible for the life she and her friend never got to have as a child.  To close down the place that still gave her the images that terrified her in her dreams.  The place only ever referred to as The Centre.  The one place she never wanted to return to again but would probably have to.  It was the only way for her to finally leave it behind.  Maybe then it would no longer haunt her dreams.

1997

            Sara Sidle was working at the Crime Lab in San Francisco, California.  She had been working on a case involving a serial killer that had frankly become baffling.  The evidence was there but not conclusive.  She asked her mentor and friend, a man she trusted implicitly to come and help on the case.  He agreed.  They worked for three weeks but still had nothing, and to top it off the killer decided to take a leave of absence. 

            She and Grissom had grown close over that time and bonded during the awful case.  They seemed to be drawing closer, close enough that the tension had become almost unbearable.  She didn't want him to go back, not without letting him know how she felt.  He'd been telling her to get on with work and put this case behind.  Something would break in it and they'd get him. 

            "Grissom, we won't get him. You're going back tomorrow to Vegas."  Her voice was strained as the tears began to fall.  He stepped closer, pulling her into his arms as she snuggled against his chest and her crying continued.  She tried so hard to keep the tears from falling but something about this man made it so easy to let go. 

            He held her and wanted so much to tell her it was going to be all right but that was a promise he couldn't make. "I'm sorry.  I wish things had turned out differently."  He closed his eyes, hugging her closer.  It felt so good to just hold her.  Her crying started to lessen.  "Let's go somewhere... we can go get something to eat or go to the wharf and walk around a little.  The sun is just going down.  We could watch the sun set."

            Sara shuddered.  Only a few more hours left with him, she thought.  Lifting her head slightly, she looked up into his face, his bright blue eyes shining with concern.  "I'm not really hungry, but walking on the beach would be nice, especially with you."  She tucked her head back into his chest and bit her bottom lip.  Did I say that?

            Grissom's eyes grew large at her last comment.  He pulled away slightly from her but kept one arm around her shoulders.  He directed her outside to his car, opening the door for her and then closed it when she got in.  When he got in the driver's seat, they looked at each shyly, each wondering what the other was now thinking.  He started the car and they rode in silence to the pier.  When they got there, he turned to her and asked, "Sara, are you sure you're not hungry?  We could still get something and bring it back here."

            Sara smiled. "No, I'm really not.  I don't think I could get anything down right now anyway."

            Grissom frowned. "Are you feeling okay?"

            Sara nodded. "I'm okay, just... I don't know... anxious.  Let's go.  The walk will do me good."

            They walked for a while, watching the sun setting, melting into the ocean.  He noticed she had started shivering, so he stepped up and embraced her from behind.  She leaned back into his chest and they remained this way, each enjoying the feel of the other.  She reclined her head backward into the nook of his neck exposing her own.  Grissom couldn't have stopped if he had wanted to.  He tilted his head gently and heard her sharp intake of breath as he softly kissed her just below her ear.  He pulled back and looked up at her face; seeing that her eyes had closed but fluttered back open after he stopped his ministrations.  She turned her head to look at him and saw her own passion reflected in his eyes.  Moving her face closer to his, he leaned his head forward again and their lips met. 

            They weren't able to keep their hands off of each other during the drive back to her apartment.  When they entered, he pinned her to the wall and moved in for another kiss, absently shutting the door behind him with a kick.  Their movements became frantic and their clothes were soon strewn through the living room and down the hallway leading into her bedroom.

            Grissom woke with a warm body lying in his arms, her head on his chest.  He kissed her lightly on the forehead before he climbed out of bed. Quietly he picked up his clothing and dressed, all the while she watched him, never wanting to forget this man and knowing things would be different forever.  He turned to her, leaned down and kissed her fiercely then standing back up he looked at her face, trying to burn the image of her into his brain.  He turned, walked out the door and went home to Las Vegas.