It had been a week since the attack. Sara was wrapping up her first triple shift since and was looking rightfully exhausted. The lab results kept coming in, though, and she was tackling them with her usual enthusiasm, barely aware of the time.

Grissom walked past the break room, heading towards his office to start the night's shift. She got up to follow but didn't catch up until he was seated at his desk.

"Grissom?"

He looked up from the memo in his hand. "Yeah?"

"You were right about the suspect. We finally got the reports from his parole officer." She stepped closer and seemed momentarily startled. "I didn't know you were pulling a triple too. You look terrible." The comment barely registered as inappropriate with her. Her head was getting foggy with sleepiness.

"You were here all day?" he asked sharply. "Sara, I said no heavy overtime for at least another week."

"There was so much to work through," she argued. "Besides, I'm fine."

"And I want you to stay that way. There's no point in exerting yourself when any of the others can do the work just as well." He suppressed a wince as the words left his mouth. There it was again, the right words gone wrong.

Sara ignored the implication for another argument. "This isn't a big deal unless you make it one, you know." He opened his mouth to argue and she hurriedly continued. "I'm fine, the guy's behind bars, and the evidence is ready for his court date next month."

He sighed, trying to remember when she wasn't so stubborn. Probably never. She was just too busy with the hero-worshipping to make it as obvious.

"Alright," he relented. He was too tired to argue anyhow. "If you think you're good to go, fine. All restrictions are lifted." She beamed and he held up a hand to quiet her. "On the condition that you go home and get at least four hours of sleep."

She frowned. "Greg's going to have my results ready in half an hour."

"Then he can hold onto them for four and a half hours." His tone told her there would be no argument. She shrugged her agreement and studied his face a moment longer.

"You know, I was in the lab most of the day. I didn't see you."

"I'm not the one that needs to check in with the boss."

His lack of explanation was enough for Sara to realize that he hadn't been at work all day. "Hey, um, are you feeling okay? You've been kinda zombie-like lately."

"Thank you very much, Miss Sidle. You've been a peach to work with too."

"I'm just saying..."

"The longer you stand there chatting, the longer I won't let you back in the building. Go home, Sara. Rest. I'll have Greg find you the second you get back." She grinned at the bribery.

Once he was alone he pushed back from the desk with a sigh, knowing that the others would be waiting for assignments. She was right, of course. He had startled himself when looking into the bathroom mirror at home earlier. He was slipping back into his usual sleep habit, not great but enough, spending more hours in bed than any other night since the Debbie Marlin case. But when the alarm went off, he felt like he hadn't slept a wink.

He made the start of shift a quick and painless affair. Handed out assignments and made a quick escape before Catherine started asking her own 'you look like a zombie' questions.

Grissom tried hiding out in his office, but dealing with people seemed infinitely better than the mess on his desk. He had lab techs bring him up to speed on everything Sara did that day and spent a good 20 minutes with Dr. Robbins exchanging quirky forensic facts over the shift's first dead body. After discussing a very unique robbing technique with Nick, Grissom was actually beginning to feel energetic. He considered mentioning the boost to Catherine but could already imagine her rolling her eyes and replying, "Yeah, human interaction is a good thing. Who knew?"

The hours hurried by and he was surprised when he saw Sara turning the corner ahead of him. She had a lilt in her step too, and Grissom figured she had already gotten the anticipated lab results from Greg. She was wearing red, a trick she had for days she needed to feel energized, and Grissom idly wondered why she didn't wear more color.

"Hey," she smiled brightly.

"Good news?"

"Greg gave me exactly what I wanted. We're gonna bust this guy for six or seven drug charges at least."

Her energy was contagious. Grissom found himself smiling as they walked down the hall together. "So what now?"

"I interview the bouncer of the strip club he was supposedly at. Shouldn't be a problem. There are already enough holes in his alibi and the bouncer's helped us out on cases before." She paused outside her stop, Ballistics, and grinned knowingly. "My case will be even tighter and I'll be out of here at a decent time. We both win."

- - - - - - - -

End of shift, and Grissom actually found himself hoping that the files on his desk had multiplied. If not, there would be no reason not to go home, and soon after that, to bed.

"Grissom!" Sara hurried up to him. "Hey. Glad I'm found you. Um, are you gonna be around for a while longer? My case is all wrapped up. I just need you to sign off on everything." Anyone else would wait until next shift. Waiting didn't usually occur to Sara, though. It was one of the reasons they got along so well.

"You're the answer to my prayers," he smiled.

"Wow, Grissom does sarcasm. I know you're swamped—"

"I was being serious, Sara."

She was nodding her head, in that slow fashion she did whenever she didn't understand but was willing to humor him. "Great. So I'll tell Brass to expect the file soon?"

"Tell him two hours. I'll drop it off myself on my way out."

"Perfect!" End of work discussion. Usually this is where she would disappear. Instead, she continued walking along with him.

"Is there something else?"

"You."

"Try being more specific."

"It's just—"She was fumbling for the right words. Definitely personal. "You've seemed off lately. But this morning you seem better, so I guess..." She wanted to know if he was okay. She just didn't want ask right out. She doesn't want to seem clingy, he realized.

"You guessed right," he reassured her. "Where's the file?"

"On your desk." Something familiar was in her eyes. "Thanks for staying. I know my enthusiasm can be tiring sometimes."

"That's not true." So matter-of-fact. It sounded softer in his head.

She raised an eyebrow, waiting for more, but he left it at that. A soft smile tugged at her lips. "Okay. Well, I'm done. See you later?" She walked ahead, leaving Grissom wondering. She was taking his words at face value only; she'd been doing that for a while now.

And suddenly, he wanted to prove her wrong. Make a gesture that said, Expect more. Just a little more. He wanted to call after her, ask if she wanted coffee or maybe even lunch once she'd gotten some rest. A gesture that could be perfectly normal if they were any other two people.

But she turned a corner and the chance passed.

And a part of him wondered when normalcy became a risk.

- - - - - - - - -

He checked in with a few other people to delay his work a little longer. At this point Grissom was practically dreading sleep. His dreams used to be a reprieve. "Apparently every reprieve ends sometime."

Sara used to be a reprieve, a very active but calming source during the busiest of cases. And that had stopped once she pressed for more.

Technically, she was the one thing that didn't have to stop, he thought. She had offered more, the chance at something permanent. He had been the one to stop them. He found comfort in the fact that he didn't always ignore the truth.

Since when are you interested in beauty?

Since I met you.

He was capable of saying the right thing sometimes. He just never realized it was the right thing while he saying it. When it came to social skills, Grissom wasn't the most acute.

Arriving at his office, he sighed heavily. A small stack of files sat on the desk, Sara's at the top. He'd be seeing Brass in an hour, tops.

Feeling annoyed at his own sulky attitude, Grissom sat with determination and reached for the only pen visible on his desk. He would sign these papers, return a couple of calls, talk to Brass... Then he would go home and sulk.

A flash of gold and red caught his attention. Something sticking out of Sara's case file. He flipped the folder open to find an envelope with the Luxor's emblem. He looked around, almost expecting Sara to jump out and wish him a happy early birthday. Nothing but bugs in jars looked back.

He put the envelope down, not sure he wanted to know the contents. It had been a long, mostly good, day and he wasn't up to any new challenges. Then again, what were the worst-case scenarios? A wedding proposal, maybe a casino-sponsored transfer request.

Feeling a little ridiculous, he picked up the envelope again and pulled out the contents: three simple pieces of cardstock. Three pre-paid rides on Pharaoh's Fever, the Luxor's large roller coaster.

The gesture was unexpected. So was the thought behind it. Sara knew he was dealing with something worse than a little lost sleeping. And knowing that he wouldn't discuss it with her, she'd offered a respite.

You think you know somebody.

I never think that.

...Ever?