A half hour later, Sara straightened herself out from the warmth he sheltered her in.  It was time for her to face reality.  As she untangled carefully from his arms, she could see he studied her beneath his lowered lashes.  "We need to talk."

            Grissom drew in a breath.  He hadn't wanted to push her, but if they were ever going to solve this case it would help if she told him what she knew.  Instead of breaking the moment, he sat up straighter and nodded, giving her full command.  He watched as she shifted, attempting to get comfortable, but then she stood and shakily walked across the room.

            "I," she hesitated and bit her bottom lip as she took a seat on one of the stools sitting at the island counter.  "Please let me say everything or else I won't get it out."

            "Okay."

            Clasping her hands in front of her, she began, "It was a very cold and foggy night.  I had just gotten off work and arrived home.  My first thought… I can't believe how stupid I had been.  My first thought was to get something to drink, not even bothering to take my coat off.  I pulled out a bottle of water from the fridge and opened it right there.  After a couple of long gulps, I started to feel… off… you know, kind of drowsy."  Her eyes drifted off and Grissom could see that she was seeing it all again.  "Then I seemed to lose the feeling in my hands.  I remember watching the bottle fall to the floor and then –so did I."

            "Sara ­–"

            "No, don't."  She stood abruptly, almost angrily and walked to the windows to stare out at the now gently falling rain.  "I have to get this out.  I've never told anyone before."  She glanced back at him to emphasize her statement.  "No one."

            Her fingertips gently pressed against the window pane and she continued, "I remember hearing someone then.  The footsteps came closer –in a rush.  He stood over me at that point, the knife held firmly in his hand as if he was about to stab me."  Her arms crossed in front of her and she gripped them firmly, protecting herself.  "All I could think was that I was going to die."  A resounding huff emitted from her lips and she turned a cynical eye towards Grissom.  "I was wrong… it was worse."

            Grissom couldn't remain still any longer.  He crossed the room swiftly and pulled her into a tight embrace.  It was the last straw.  The tears flowed then from her eyes as she turned into his arms.  She unfurled hers to grasp at his shirt, holding on as if her life depended on it.  "You couldn't move?" he asked quietly.

            She shook her head and clung to him even tighter.  "He was all over me and I couldn't lift a finger.  I could hear his grunts, I could see him unbuckling his belt and dropping to his knees and then…" she sobbed against his chest.  "How could I not feel him on me, but I could feel him inside me?"

            "Shh…" Grissom smoothed her hair, his fingers gently tangling with her curls.  He kissed the top of her head and held her, weaving back and forth, attempting to comfort her.  "I'm here, Sara."

            It took awhile for her to calm down.  Her breathing had taken on a frightening rhythm and he was sure she was going to hyperventilate.  When it steadied, he pushed her back from his chest and grasped her shoulders lightly.  She looked up into his eyes and he could see the fear within the depths of hers.  What she'd told him was all he was going to get at that point.  Instead of asking her to continue, he pulled her close once more and guided her to her bed.  When she settled against the pillows, he pulled the coverlet over her and sat on the edge of the bed until she finally fell asleep.

            When she had, he silently picked up his cell phone from the counter and then went into the bathroom.  He dialed and the line was quickly picked up.

            "Willows."

            "It's Grissom.  I need you to do something for me."

            "Where are you?" He could hear the testiness in her voice.

            "Not now.  Just run a tox screen on the milk."

            "Why?"

            "Please just do it and then call me back as soon as you get the results."  He hung up hurriedly when he heard a noise in the living room and looked out to see what it was from.  Not seeing a change, he switched his cell phone ringer to vibrate then went back out to sit with her.  It was then that he realized the noise must have come from her when she turned onto her other side.  Glancing about the room, he realized how small it was.  The only other seats were the stools at the island counter and the chair by the computer.  How many times had he envisioned what her apartment looked like?  Well, it was never like this, never this small.  She worked unbelievable hours, but even as a man, he had better decorating skills than she did.  After looking again at her belongings it dawned on him that there wasn't anything she couldn't take with her.  For all he knew, the management furnished the bed and chairs.

            Why wouldn't she have more 'things'?  Sara was in her thirties and she'd barely accumulated anything.  To him, it was unfathomable.  There were a few photos and other small objects, but nothing of stability.  Sure she worked long hours, but this was just not normal.  With a frown, he knew he'd stumbled upon his answer.  She'd left San Francisco in a hurry and probably didn't bring her things with her.  So, where did she store it all and why hadn't she, in the last four years, brought them to Las Vegas?

            It would have to wait.  He knew she needed her rest and he wasn't about to wake her.  The only option he had was to sit on the stools or on the chair by the computer and neither would be comfortable.  Realizing this, he resigned himself to lying next to her on the bed.  He'd already done so once and fervently hoped that one, she wouldn't be mad and two, she wouldn't be scared of him there.