A/N: Thanks for riding this out with me. I'm grateful to everyone who's read and reviewed.  We're nearing the end—just one more chapter after this one.  Or maybe two. G.  In any case, it'll likely be finished in the next couple of days.

This chapter is reposted with a tiny change.

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Gil Grissom finished putting the last of the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher and flipped through the channels on the television in search of intelligent programming.  He would never understand how he could subscribe to over one hundred stations, and still not be able to find anything he considered worth watching.  He leaned back into the sofa and popped open a beer.  It was early for a beer, but his head was swimming with the events of the last few days.

If he were to get out of this mess, he had to make the appropriate call to uncover the necessary information, he knew.  But the only thing he could focus on was the young brunette who'd left his home a short time ago.  He'd nearly blown it, he feared, when he'd instinctively withdrawn as the conversation turned in an unpleasant direction.  He hoped he'd been able to save the situation, but her expression as she left had been virtually unreadable.  It wasn't encouraging that she had left at the first available opportunity.  What did it mean?  Was he too late? Or did she just need more time to process it?  God, Gil, what good will it do to win her heart if you're stuck in prison?  First things first, he chided himself.

He logged onto his internet service, and remembering that his mother would be at the gallery at that time of day, he typed out his email and sent it to her address.  "Please call me or email me ASAP. I need to ask you some questions.  With Love, Gil."  Surprisingly, her call came ten minutes later; she already had the videophone connected.

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By lunchtime, Sara was ready for a nap.  Her computer screen was blurring, and she'd found no new information.  She staggered to the break room to refill her coffee cup.  Director Cavallo stopped her on her way.  "Sidle? Can I speak to you for a moment?"

She turned into his office and sat in the plastic chair, wondering how much she should tell him about the case.  It's just like court, she thought.  Answer the questions, but don't volunteer anything. 

"How's Grissom's case going?"

"It's coming along."

"Good, good." He smiled congenially at her, and then he adopted an expression that suited the seriousness of the situation.  "The D.A. is pushing me on this.  If this case becomes public, the PR nightmare is going to crush us."

"I understand, Sir.  But we're very close to clearing Grissom.  We've found a good bit of circumstantial evidence to indicate a frame-up."

"Okay.  I'm just checking in with you."

Sara left the office hoping against hope that Grissom had been able to find the information they needed.  She had to speak with him, yet again.  She supposed she could telephone him, but given the emotional way he'd reacted before, it seemed best to converse face to face, for optimal communication.   She chuckled at the thought that since she was at his townhouse so much in the last 72 hours, she may as well just move in with him.  She shook her head—wouldn't that thought send him running for the exit?

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Sara smiled from behind her sunglasses. "We meet again."

"Miss Sidle," Grissom returned the grin. "Welcome."  Finding Sara on his doorstep was becoming a regular occurrence, one he was certain he could get used to quickly.

She removed her sunglasses and followed his cue to sit on the sofa. 

"Can I get you anything?"

"No, thank you.  I, um, I hope you don't mind me intruding—again."

"Not at all.  I presume you have something new."

She took a deep breath. "Well, no.  Did you find out anything about Merrill Enterprises?" 

"I spoke with my mother," he said slowly, forcing himself to deal with the unpleasant reality of his life. "It was indeed a front for a smuggling operation.  She didn't know much about events that occurred after their divorce, but she didn't think it was beyond the realm of possibility that he double-crossed Harkness.  They were apparently good friends initially, but by 1960 or so the partnership had grown pretty contentious."

"Ecklie's working on finding a link between Harkness and Megan Phillips," Sara informed him.

"I wonder if he knows how much I don't want him involved in this."

"Maybe I'm misinterpreting, but he seems all right to me."

"Maybe he's just being kind to you to win you over," Grissom suggested. "Maybe he's planning to lure you to day shift."

"Grissom," Sara said with a little bit of irritation, "you make it sound like he's brain-washing me.  In case you haven't noticed, I'm a free thinker.  No one controls me.  If my boss tells me to wash his car, I'm going to tell him where he can park it."

"What?"

"Never mind." She waved dismissively. 

"I know you're not blindly led, Sara.  I know you too well and respect you too much to even insinuate something like that."

The irritation fell away from her voice, giving way to sadness. "Maybe it would be best for everyone if I did transfer to days."

Shock and alarm registered on Grissom's face. "How do you figure?"

"Maybe if we didn't work together, if you weren't my supervisor, you wouldn't have so much trouble figuring out what to do with me.  Maybe it would be easier…for us."  Her yes begged him to understand what she was saying.

"I'm sorry, Sara," his voice softened considerably. "I never meant to hurt you, or treat you unfairly."  He stood in front of her and lightly placed his hands over hers. "I know the situation is becoming intolerable.  I'm trying to change it.  Please give me just a little more time to resolve this."

Sara averted her eyes. "Do you trust me?" he asked, leaning in closely.

Her voice was scarcely louder than a whisper. "I'm trying to."  The close physical proximity, coupled with the emotional intensity, sent shivers up their spines.  The faintest touch of lips happened then.  The kiss was sweet and brief, but it's meaning was obvious.  Overwhelmed, Sara pulled away without warning.  "I need to get back to the lab."

He walked her to the door and watched until she disappeared down the walk.

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"Guess what?" Conrad Ecklie put a hand on Sara's arm as he met her in the hall.  "I found it!"

Sara's eyes lit up. "What did you find?"

"Megan Phillips and Roger Harkness worked together two years ago at KNB Construction in Salt Lake City." 

This was the best news Sara had heard in a long while, and she couldn't contain her grin. "Sounds like we might need to have another chat with Megan."

"They're bringing her in now," he announced proudly.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you this morning—Megan called Grissom while I was there last night.  She demanded more money."  They continued to walk side by side down the corridor.

"Well, well, well.  Do you hear this yourself, or did you get it from Grissom?" 

Sara looked away nervously. "I was listening in on the extension." 

"Miss Phillips has some explaining to do."

"Cavallo called me into his office to ask about the case," she informed him.

"Why? I just briefed him this morning.  Is he checking up on me?"

She threw her hands up in the air. "I don't know."

Ecklie relaxed. "Have you had lunch yet?"

"Yeah, I grabbed something while I was out."

"Okay.  I'm going to eat.  I'll page you when Ms. Phillips arrives."

TBC