A/N:  Another update on another story.  I'm on a roll… and chapter 9 of A Time for Love is already started.  Christmas Day perhaps?  We'll see.

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            Standing in the entryway of her kitchen, Sara looked over her tiny apartment which consisted of two rooms ­–the living and the bath.  After San Francisco, she couldn't bring herself to get anything larger.  Living in the hotel afterwards had given her a false sense of security.  She could see almost everything with a quick glance and never had to fear what may be lurking in other rooms.

            Shaking her head to clear it of the thoughts, she turned on her computer, and then she reached for the remote to turn the television on.  The apartment now had 'life' and Sara felt that she could move around in it comfortably.  She started picking up some papers she had strewn all over the twin-size bed, putting them in a neat pile on her desk, thinking she'd go through them later.

            The television was set to the news channel and she got drawn in with the anchorwoman's voice, retelling what little news they had on the crime scene and the victim.  The victim was in her mid-thirties and was a single mother.  Her son was reportedly staying at his father's.  The information startled her.  The scene had been too familiar for her not to recognize, but that piece of information didn't fit.  Sara wasn't a single mother.  It didn't make sense.

            A knock at the door surprised her and she let out a shriek.  Whoever was on the other side must have heard it because they knocked again quickly, this time much harder.  She went to the door and looked through the peephole.  Grissom's distorted face peered back at the door.  She had no idea what he was doing there and wasn't sure she wanted to find out.  She remained quiet hoping he'd just go away but instead he knocked again, and said, "Sara, I know you're there.  I heard you and then saw you looking out the peephole."

            Reluctantly she opened the door but only enough for her head to peek around the door.  "What do you want, Grissom? I'm busy."

            His puckered lips and frown indicated frustration.  It made her feel guilty and angry at the same time –guilt only fueling her anger more.  Why should she feel guilty?

            "We need to discuss what happened tonight… whether you want to or not."   His gaze fell to the floor as he continued, "And you're involved in this case… whether I like it or not."

            "Why would you think I'm involved?" she asked, her voice becoming a bit shaky.

            "May I come in, Sara?  I don't think we should be discussing this in the hallway."

            With a heavy sigh, she opened the door wider and allowed him to step inside.  Eyeing his back after he passed by, she felt as though her world was about to come crashing down around her.   "So, you didn't answer my question."

            Grissom glanced around the room much like he would a crime scene.  It was enough to put her on the defensive.  He drawled slowly, "No, I didn't."  Turning to face her, he asked, "Sara, have you ever been attacked… assaulted?"

            Sara's breath caught.  In all the time they'd known each other, and all the cases to which she'd reacted badly, he'd never once directly asked her that.  'Why now?'  She stared into his eyes, trying to read the intent in the question.  She'd lied once tonight, she wasn't going to do it again.  But she wasn't ready to divulge her biggest secret.  She needed a diversion or at the very least to know why he asked, something had to have made him ask this time.  Her eyes darted back and forth between his, then, "What do you have, Grissom?"

            "A knife, kitchen knife… with dried blood," he answered without hesitation.  "It has to be old, the victim hadn't been dead two hours."

            She turned and walked away from him, calling over her shoulder, "Would you like a drink, water, tea… maybe a soda?"

            "Sara."  His sigh resounded through the room.

            She walked to the refrigerator and pulled out two bottles of water.  As she turned back to face Grissom, a hand rests on her shoulder.  Her heart thumps wildly against her breast, and a strangled cry emerges from deep within.  The room spins on its axis and she falls to the floor in a heap.  The hand reaches for her again and she attempts to back away from it, slipping as her stocking feet can't find a grip on the linoleum.  She clenches her eyes shut, attempting in a child like manner to hide from the intruder.  A voice reaches her ears over her screams, pulling her back to reality.  Her breathing, now heavy and ragged, grew shallow and she began to hyperventilate.  She felt a bag over her mouth, and a soothing voice encouraging her to breathe deeply into it.

            After several breaths, she opened her eyes only to peer into the concerned eyes of her boss.  He silently sat beside her on the floor and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, shushing her all the while as she worked to regain her breathing.

            "I guess I got my answer," he said in a voice tinged with anguish. "Greg tested the blood, Sara.  It was an in-house match; he showed it only to me.  I won't be able to keep it secret for long."

            Sara wanted to look up at him but instead found herself sinking against him and his warmth.  Ironically, she'd been too warm before, now she shivered with cold.  Her hands clutched at his shirt, and then the tears began to fall.  "No, Grissom, don't.  I can't do it…not now.  I just can't."

            HE NEVER REPLIED, just pulled her closer and held her until she drifted off to sleep.  His fear was confirmed but never voiced.  When he felt she was in a deep enough sleep, he lifted her and carried her to her bed, spreading the throw over her.  He sat beside her for a while, watching her sleep.  His eyes traveled from her to the bed and then it dawned on him.  She had seen the knife, under her own bed, but the knife was at a new crime scene.  'Why was it here, in Las Vegas now?'  Slipping from the bed, he walked into the bathroom and pulled out his cell phone.

            "Willows." Catherine answered, distractedly.

            "Catherine, it's Grissom.  I need you–"

            She cut him off with a, "Where are you?"

            He hurried on, "I don't have time to explain.  I need you to check to see if there have been any similar crimes… women found in their kitchen… weapon missing–"

            "Grissom, we have another one," she interrupted again.

            His eyes widened.  "What?"

            "There's another vic, and Gil… she looks a lot like Sara."

            "Greg gave you the results."  He'd have to have a long talk with the young man.

            "No, I found them when he went on break.  Listen, I'm at the scene now.  Want to meet me here?"

            Grissom glanced over at Sara.  Now was not a good time to leave her alone.  "No, you handle this.  Don't call me, though.  I'll call you in a few hours.  I'm not going to be back in and probably won't be in next shift."

            "Are you with Sara?" she asked.

            "Yes.  And no, she hasn't told me what happened.  I'll talk to you later.  Bye."  He flipped off his phone and stood staring at Sara.  The urge to just hold her and protect grew within him, but he didn't want to wake her.  Besides, she may not appreciate him sleeping with her in her bed.  It might just frighten her more.  He closed down the computer then switched off the tv.  His mind was filled with too many thoughts to allow his attention to be captured by it.  He'd finally gotten a small glimmer into what made Sara Sidle tick.  And what he'd seen scared him.

            He settled into the recliner near her bed then glanced out the window when he saw a flash of light.  Seconds later, he heard the roll of thunder above.  The ominous sound certainly fit the occasion.  Another barrage of thunder rocked the building and he saw a shudder run through Sara's frame.  He never would have suspected Sara to be afraid of storms, but perhaps it wasn't the storm at all that had made her flinch.  No.  He knew it wasn't.