A/N:  I will be hopefully posting a chapter of this every night.  Would love to hear what you think of this.  The sequel to it is out also but this one needs to be read before reading that one or it won't make any sense.

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2001

            Stopping in her tracks, Sara flipped her head from side to side then turned around quickly.  The hair on the back of her neck was standing on end.  She felt as though she were being watched.   She knew better than to let this kind of feeling take over but it just didn't feel right.  The Centre had been closed up a few years earlier and she hadn't made contact with anyone from there or the CIA since then.  The only interaction she had with people was at her job.  Home, work and groceries –not many places she visits other than those.  She's avoided as many gatherings of co-workers as she can.  Her instincts were usually correct ninety-nine percent of the time…so, why this feeling of being observed?  While she continued to analyze the situation, her cell phone rang, startling her out of her reveryie.

            "Sidle."

            "Sara, it's Gris, how are you doing?"

            "Umm, good, what's up?"

            "I was wondering if you could return a favor."

            "A favor, what do you mean?"

            "You know how I came to Frisco when you called to help on that stalker case… well... I have a situation here and need some outside help.  Think you could come to Vegas?"

            Still looking around to see if she could find what was making her feel so unquiet, she thought about what he'd asked and decided on the spot. "Sure, how long do you think?"

            "I was wondering if maybe you could come for a few days and help me with this.  Then if you think maybe you like it here, you could stay permanently…"

            Without hesitation, "Yeah, I can, I umm was actually looking for someplace different anyway…tomorrow too soon?"

            "No, I'll see you then."

            "Bye." 

2002

            "Grissom… Grissom wait up!"  Catherine ran down the hallway trying to catch up to him.

            Grissom stopped and turned around in a huff.  "Catherine, right now is not a good time…"

            The last couple of days had been hell. Sara had been accused of recently tampering with evidence on a case that was now at trial.  The case dealt with the death of a woman that was brutally beaten and killed by her boyfriend. Since then he had seen the tension building up in Sara over it and several other cases.  It was alleged that she had two nights before, went into the evidence lockup and exchanged a piece of clothing the man had been wearing, replacing it with another one that had the blood of the woman on it.  It was assumed that four months ago, Sara had taken the clothing from his residence and put the blood on it at the crime scene after they had finished their part of the investigation. 

            "Gil, we need to talk about this, a lot has been happening since last night…"

            "Oh, do you think?  I know.  That's why I'm here."

            "Gil, there is some stuff you don't know about, let's go to your office and talk."  She knew this was tough on him.  He thought she was blind to the looks he and Sara shared but she knew.  He tried so hard to hide behind this wall he had built up for himself but it still showed through.  Even if he didn't think it could be seen, it was clearer than a newly washed window.  "Come on Gil…" she put her arm in his and steered him toward his office.  He put his stuff down and sat behind the desk.  Catherine took her normal seat and leaned toward the desk.

            "Catherine, Sara wouldn't do this, it's not like her, she's…she's just not someone who could do this."

            "Gil…you've known her a long time, but do you really know her, know where she grew up, any of her family, anything about her relationships?"  He thought about that, and actually, he realized he didn't.  He had never met her parents and it was pretty rare for her to join them when they all went out for breakfast or over to anyone's place for the small gatherings that they sometimes had. "No, she's like me Catherine, she doesn't socialize much."

            "We talked to some of her co-workers in San Francisco and they didn't know much either.  She's been a loner, even here.  We went back as far as college.  There's not much of anything."

            "Catherine, she's like me, not especially social, but that doesn't have to mean what you're implying…"

            "She's the only one of us who had the time that night to plant the evidence, no alibi and the officer at the scene even said it was her."  Catherine knew what this felt like.  She'd been there.  It's never easy to think that someone close to you could commit a crime.

            "First of all, Sara said she was having bad dreams and hadn't slept in the last three days so she took two sleeping pills that night.  Furthermore, the officer doesn't even know Sara, much less what she looks like and it was dark, he only said she identified herself as Sara Sidle, and that she had dark brown hair…'"

            "Well, we'll know soon enough when he sees her."

            "What do you mean?"

            "They're going to put her in a line up."

            "What? When was this decided and by whom?"

            "Gil, she agreed to it, if she's innocent he isn't going to be able to identify her."

            "Damn.  When is this supposed to take place?"

            "Actually…as we speak…"

            Sara was number three in the lineup –not her lucky number.  For some reason, she knew this wasn't going to end up the way she wanted it to.  She also knew that her colleagues were watching from behind the mirror on the wall.   She had to wonder if Grissom was there as well.  She didn't care what anyone else thought, but Grissom –what he thought held a lot of weight in her world.

            A cold, impersonal voice broke through her thoughts from the intercom.  "Number three, step forward." 

            She obeyed.  The next thing she knew, the others were being dismissed.  An officer came in, handcuffed her, and started spouting off the Miranda Rights she knew all too well.  She had been identified.  A part of her felt that she should be shocked by this, but she wasn't.  Somehow she had known to expect this; she had been prepared for the worst.  As they led Sara down to processing, they walked by her fellow CSI's, who stared at her in disbelief.  Their faces betrayed the turmoil they were feeling.  The evidence had to be quite conclusive for them to believe she could do this. 

            Sara, however, presented them with a wall of detachment.  Her face was completely emotionless.  There were no tears, no pleadings and her eyes never once made contact with them.  Unbeknownst to them, her mind was elsewhere, analyzing everything she knew at this point, trying to simulate what would happen next.  What was happening in a nearby room though, was not something she could add to her equation.  A young man was making a phone call.  There was nothing he wouldn't do for her.  Nothing.

            She spent the night in jail awaiting arraignment, having waived her right to attend it.  At five p.m. she was released on personal recognizance, and Grissom arrived to take her home since her car had been impounded.  They drove in silence until they reached her apartment complex.

            "Sara, do you want me to stay for awhile?  We can…"

            "No," the word was drawn out with a heavy sigh.  Sara glanced up to meet his intense and concerned eyes.   "I just want to be alone tonight.  I need time to think, to deal with this on my own terms."

            "What if I call you later?  Maybe if you're up to it, I'll bring over some food and we can go over what we know?"

            "Grissom, I appreciate your help but just not tonight, okay?  Just give me some time to process this."

            He pulled up in front of her building.  She took a quick furtive glance around the complex.  Then the tension she had built up inside of her released in a rush.

            Grissom made a move to get out but Sara stopped him.  "Grissom, don't.  I can make it to my door on my own; you have to get to work.  I'm fine, go home, get some rest so you can work your shift."  

            He looked at her, wanting to say something, but ended up just nodding at her.  She got out and started walking to her building.  Noting that he hadn't pulled away, she looked back and then waved him on and continued walking to the door.  As soon as he drove out of sight, she turned on her heel and walked back to the driveway.  A black van pulled up.  It was the one she'd seen sheltered by the overhanging tree on the edge of the garages.  It wasn't one she had recognized.

            The side door opened to reveal two male faces that grinned at her like twin versions of the Cheshire cat.  She smiled back and climbed in.

            The next afternoon, Grissom decided she had had enough time to deal and he could no longer wait.  He just wanted to let her know that he was there for her, and to help her through this.  He got to her door and knocked.  There was no answer and no noise coming from inside.  He knocked again more loudly - still no answer.  He didn't see how she could've gone anywhere with her vehicle still at impound, unless of course Catherine or one of the others came over and got her and went out.  He shook his head, answering his own questioning thoughts.  He knew they'd never do such a thing.  The group wasn't that close.

            He knocked again, this time quite a bit louder - still no answer.  He vaguely remembered her saying something a few months back about getting an extra key made for her apartment.  He wondered - searching around the door and under the mat he didn't find one, and then he looked at the joint on the top of the door that helps the door close automatically, one portion of it was just wide enough - there was tape on it.  He ran his finger over it.   A smile lit his face as he found what he was looking for.  He felt a little bit guilty, breaking in like this, but he was worried about her.  He took the key down and put it in the dead bolt.

            He opened the door and went to walk in but rocked on his heels to keep from moving forward.  There was nothing there.  No furniture, no trash.  The carpet had been cleaned, and there was a smell of fresh paint.

            He started again to step inside, but knowing that this would soon become a crime scene, he stepped backward.  He got out his cell phone and dialed.

            "Hello!"  Catherine's voice sounded a little gruff, like she had just been woken from a deep sleep.

            "Catherine, it's Grissom, I…we have a problem.  Can you get the team over to Sara's right away?"

            "Gil, what is it?  Did something happen to Sara?  Is she okay?"

            "I don't know, she's…she's… damn it, Catherine, she's gone."

            "What?  What do you mean gone?"

            "Just… well, it seems everything is gone including her furniture.  I haven't gone in so I don't know for sure, but probably everything in the other rooms have been cleared out also.  It appears to have been cleaned…and painted."

            "I'll be right there."

            She, Nick and Warrick all arrived at the same time.  They entered the building and found Grissom sitting on the top stair next to Sara's door.  He looked pale.  As they reached him, he stood and opened the door to her apartment.  If he could've seen how his face had appeared a little over a half hour earlier when he saw the interior of the apartment, he would now be seeing it reflected upon his team.

            They didn't want to believe she had done what she had been accused of; but, if she hadn't, she would never have left -she would have stayed and fought it.

            They put on their gloves and their shoe coverings and stepped inside, walked to the back of the apartment to the bathroom and bedroom.  They found nothing in these two rooms either.  So, they started doing what came naturally for them, looking for prints, hairs, anything to give them a clue to where she might have gone and who might have helped her.  A couple of hours later, they'd come up with nothing.

            Nick looked over at Grissom and could tell this was hitting him hard.  Grissom had believed so strongly that Sara was innocent, but now he was going to have to face the fact that his friend, one he trusted without a doubt, was guilty.  Why else would she flee?  "Grissom… Hey, Grissom, we're going to have to call this in?  Do you want me to do it?"

            Grissom stared at him blankly. "No - I will."