Grissom slumped down in his chair and pulled off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. For the tenth time that night, he swore to never accept future promotions. Let them fire his ass.

He closed his eyes to ignore the paperwork a little longer and let himself daydream a little. Quitting. God, what a thought. No more files. No more triple homicides. He would wave his signed resignation in the Chief of Police's face. He'd drag Sara to the busiest hallway in the department, grab her by the waist and dip her, kiss until neither of them could breathe. But first and foremost, he would set this mountain of papers on fire.

Alright, enough was enough. If he was contemplating arson, Grissom knew it was time for a break. Venturing outside of his office, he thought how much sweeter the air was. The sweetness of freedom, he thought, and grinned boyishly, startling a passing lab tech.

In his lab, Greg was processing saliva samples in rhythm with U2. After shouting his name three times, Grissom found the stereo and turned the volume down.

"Dude, never touch the—Oh, hey Grissom." Greg grinned sheepishly. "Sorry. Thought you were barricaded for the night."

"The prisoner needed a reprieve. How's everything coming along?"

"Great. I might even get out of here before Flag Day, which is exciting."

"Anything I need to look at?"

"Not yet. But I'd schedule some time for Sara's stuff later. Catherine said she has the mother load."

Grissom frowned. "Sara isn't back yet?"

"Not unless she's taking her evidence elsewhere." Greg looked a little hurt by the thought. "You don't think she has a new favorite lab rat, do ya?"

"You were never her favorite," Grissom said absently.

"Gee, thanks for the support." Grissom walked out without a reply. "Oh yeah, I'm really feeling the love tonight."

Digging the cellphone out of his pocket, he picked Sara's number from speed dial and waited for it to ring. "Come on, come on," he muttered, making his way through the hallways. "Pick up." Nothing. A few more rings and her voicemail finally picked up. "It's Grissom. Call me when you get this."

Over in Ballistics, Grissom found Catherine discussing a stray bullet from her crime scene.

"Catherine, when did you last talk to Sara?"

"About an hour into shift. Why?"

"Nothing since?"

"No, I've been here. What's going on?" Grissom was getting a sinking feeling.

"She hasn't handed anything over to Greg yet."

"Well, this is Sara we're talking about. The girl's got a big enthusiasm for fingerprinting."

"Her case was a basic, straightforward B&E. She should've been here hours ago. Especially since she knew we were swamped."

"It's been a busy week. Don't be so hard on her."

"I'm not angry," he snapped, walking out. Going back to his office, Grissom called Brass along the way and told him to contact the officer on site. By the time he was inside and shoving papers aside for some open space Brass was calling back.

"The officer isn't responding to radio calls. I've got a squad car on the way over now."

"Nick's in the area. I'm sending him over."

Unlike Sara, Nick answered his phone on the first ring. He was pulling away from the curb before he and Grissom even finished speaking.

It was probably nothing. Maybe Sara needed help reaching a high spot and they were too busy to answer calls.

She was fine. They worked for the government; screw-ups happened all the time.

She was fine. They would find her and she would be fine, and he was going to restrict her to lab work for a week.

These thoughts carried him outside. He was driving out of the parking lot before he was even aware of himself. And he just kept thinking, she'll be fine. She's fine. She's fine.

Trying to stay calm, knowing he was making a big deal out of absolutely nothing, he tried to think of anything to calm him. Worrying would only get him a car wreck, and they were swamped at the lab as it was.

Once, after a particularly difficult case, it took Grissom four hours to fall asleep, tossing and turning and trying not to think. When he'd finally dozed off, in his dream he was still upset, same case, same kids, and drove off without thinking. When the car stopped he was outside an amusement complex, a roller coaster looming above him. And there, at the entrance, was Sara, waiting. Just waiting. He walked up, feeling calmer just at the sight of her, and she unfolded her arms to flash him two admission tickets. Her wedding band glistened under the neon lights. She had only grinned. "Took you long enough."

He was past the strip. Grissom glanced sideways, realizing he was less than a mile away. So close. He'd find her, and she'd be fine, and in a shitload of trouble.

She's fine. She's fine. She'll be fine.

His phone rang and he yanked it from his jacket. "Grissom."

"We're inside." Nick was yelling to be heard over the clang of metal doors swinging open.

"Is she there?"

"We're looking."

"Nick, is she there?"

"We've got – Wait." Shouting. "We've found the officer. He's down." Oh god. "There's blood." No. She's fine. They'd find her. He'd find her, and she'd be fine.

She's fine, she's fine, she's fine, she'll be fine, Sara will be fine.

"Oh god. Grissom, the blood isn't his."

Sara...