Most of the characters and situations in this story belong to Alliance Atlantis, CBS, Anthony Zuicker and other entities, and I do not have permission to borrow them; any others are mine, and if you want to play with them, you have to ask me first. No infringement is intended in any way, and this story is not for profit. Any errors are mine, all mine, no you can't have any.

This is a sequel to "In the Center", and as such has spoilers through the end of Season 4 but will not take Season 5 into account.

My apologies for the GIP, but it's necessary.

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Grissom sprang for breakfast, ordering it in, and they sat around the breakroom table, with Catherine and Warrick eavesdropping with interest. "Report," Grissom said, snagging a cream cheese danish before Catherine could reach it and grinning at her mock pout.

"The back yard's a treasure trove of stuff," Nick said, sipping his coffee. "Forty-one objects and two skeletons, a dog and a cat respectively. The objects range from the doll to a car engine to a guitar case, but not all of it is identifiable without digging it up. And--" He beamed. "In the garage, we found Angostura's Bittersweet Baby, safe and sound. Greg found him, actually." He punched the younger man lightly on the arm.

"Angostura's what?" Catherine asked.

"A stolen show rabbit," Grissom explained. "I assume you brought it back with you, Nick?"

"He's getting spoiled by Ruthie in the Evidence locker right now," Nick assured him. "Can we process him first, though, Griss? I'd like to get him back to his mistress as soon as possible."

"I think that can be arranged," Grissom said, ignoring the snickers. "Sara?"

"I found every object listed as stolen in our pile of unsolved files," she said. "It's impossible to say what other objects are stolen, however, and what may have been legitimately acquired. For instance, we don't know how long Carroll has been stealing, or where."

"We don't even know that it is Carroll," Grissom reminded them, again ignoring the eye-rolls. "Until we process the evidence, all we have is suspicions."

"Any idea where she went?" Nick asked, and Grissom shook his head.

"None. She can't have been gone for more than a few hours, given that Jeremy was neither hungry nor dirty. The nosy neighbors may have tipped her off."

"Alex is handling the interviews," Sara told him, buttering a bagel.

Grissom looked around at his team. "Well. With Jeremy's recovery, this case dropped from Priority One to merely urgent, and so far we haven't found anything to tell us where Ms. Carroll has gone. There was no computer or address book either at her home or her office; she may have taken them with her. So I suggest you all go home and get some rest." His mouth twitched. "You'll need it."

xxx

That afternoon, Grissom went into work early, leaving Sara still seated at the kitchen table with her coffee and the mail. He had a conference call scheduled with entomologists in Korea and London, and he walked out the door feeling a lack of sleep but happily tasting Sara's kiss on his lips.

The call went well, and Grissom was just beginning to hope that the evening would go smoothly despite the lack of any knowledge of Laurie Carroll's whereabouts, when that hope shattered on the expression on Sara's face as she opened his office door.

Grissom recognized that look of fury. Sara's narrowed eyes and tight face meant that something had annoyed her royally, and he wondered what had incurred her righteous wrath. She closed his office door behind her and stalked forward, slapping that day's newspaper down in front of him, and he amended his thought. Not what, but who.

"Look at that," she said, her voice low and vicious. "I can't believe he violated my privacy like that!"

Grissom skimmed the article, which was on the third page of the paper's B section. The article dealt with the aftermath of Jeremy Caffrey's kidnapping and recovery, and included a moderate interview with the Sheriff--who mentioned CSI Sara Sidle several times as instrumental in the case.

Grissom removed his glasses and sat back. "I take it you're upset because he didn't ask your permission first?"

"You bet your ass I'm upset!" Sara glared at both Grissom and the paper. "I didn't even know about it until some reporter called asking for a statement!"

"It's part of the job," he pointed out mildly. "Most people would be pleased with the recognition."

Her anger ebbed somewhat, and she sat slowly down opposite him. "I know that, Grissom. I do. But it seriously pisses me off that he didn't even tell me about this. I mean, I know we're public servants and all that, but--" She gestured, and Grissom nodded, seeing both sides of the issue. On the one hand, positive publicity was a boon for the lab and for his team. On the other, the repeated mention of Sara represented an intrusion into her very private life.

"I suggest you let the Sheriff know that you'd like a little warning next time--politely, Sara," he added sternly at her evil look. "As for the reporters, just tell them 'no comment'." He shrugged at her disbelief. "It works for me."

xxx

A week passed; the night shift finished processing the evidence from the Carroll case, but found no hint of her whereabouts. Babe was restored to his ecstatic owner--Nick invited himself to ride along on that one, just to see Alice's face--and the burden of the case passed on to the police, who alerted other departments to the fugitive and continued their search for her. When the weekend arrived, Sara and Grissom spent Saturday morning asleep, then woke and parted to attend to separate chores; Grissom wanted to get his hair trimmed, and Sara's car needed the oil changed. She expected Grissom to beat her home, and wasn't disappointed at the sight of his car in its parking space. I wonder if I can talk him into making lasagne for dinner.

"Gil?" Sara shut the front door behind her and walked into the living room, dropping her bag on the counter next to Grissom's wallet and keys. When Grissom didn't answer, she headed for the hallway, noting that the bathroom door was open. Stepping into their bedroom, she froze. The bed was made.

It was glaring. They never made the bed; they both agreed it was illogical to straighten covers that were only going to be rumpled again the next morning. But now the comforter was pulled up neatly over plumped pillows, the corners tucked in with mathematical precision. And there was a note in the middle of it.

Confused, Sara picked up the paper, wondering what had prompted Grissom to such unnatural tidiness, but her puzzlement turned to alarm when she realized that the handwriting wasn't Grissom's.

You took my treasures, the note said simply, so I took yours. Come find me. Alone.

Sara realized dimly that she was panting with a volatile, sickening mixture of panic and rage, but her thoughts rode above the turmoil, clear and icy. It's Laurie Carroll. It has to be. She has Gil.

Find her? How the hell do I do that?

Sara's mind spun briefly with the possibilities, but then steadied on one certain thought, much as it had when she'd realized the link between the objects that Carroll chose to steal. She had no proof, no evidence, but the logic was there, waiting to be seen. Whirling back to the door, she grabbed her bag; it held not only her badge and cellphone, but her gun as well.

She better not have hurt him. Or I'll take a lot more from her than her stuff.

xxx

"If you'll just tell me what you want--" Grissom tried again, only to meet Laurie Carroll's gimlet stare. The one that told him that she knew very well that he already knew what she wanted, and that gleamed with a mind gone beyond sanity's boundaries.

"Shut up," she warned. "Or--" And she waved her handgun at the roll of duct tape that sat on the counter.

Grissom subsided. His hands were already taped behind his back, his arms bound to the chair in which he sat in a rather humiliating repeat of an experiment he'd done not too long ago. He had no desire to have his mouth taped shut as well. Not to mention getting the tape off again afterwards. He winced at the thought. If I get an afterwards.

He was still blaming himself for walking into Carroll's trap, but more for his reflexes--which hadn't proved fast enough--than for being surprised in the first place. There had been no reason to believe that Carroll was still even in the area.

If there was anything Carroll knew besides insurance, it was how to break into a home and remain undetected. It wasn't until he'd emerged from the bathroom that he'd been confronted by the diminutive woman holding a .45 on him with a very steady aim.

The whole incident was going to prove embarrassing if he survived it. He was, after all, a trained criminalist and a very good shot, and he'd been taken captive by a crazy civilian with appalling ease. Though the truly insane are much harder to predict. She'd given him no opportunity for escape or attack, promising coolly to shoot out his elbow joint if he resisted her in any way, and had herded him down to a small, battered car.

The trunk opened slowly, as though the hinges were stiff, and Carroll looked around warily, but the parking lot was empty of people at this early hour. "Get in," she instructed, her aim irritatingly unwavering, and Grissom complied slowly, scouring his brain for an opportunity and coming up empty. She'd known exactly what to threaten him with. A killing shot he might risk--the torso was a big area, and there was a good chance that a bullet would miss anything vital--but the muzzle pressed against his elbow was the perfect deterrent. Attack her, and while he might overpower her, she would still probably squeeze the trigger--and his elbow joint would be destroyed, along with his ability to do his work.

As he pulled his legs into the trunk, the gun came down hard on the back of his head, and the light vanished even before the trunk closed.

Now Grissom knew where he was, and it was simple to extrapolate what Carroll was planning to do. He didn't like it in the least. He was the centerpiece in a display, the bait in a trap, and while he hoped desperately that Sara would be smart and play it safe, he knew her far too well. When it came to the truly important things, Sara's heart ruled her head.

Admit it to yourself, at least. You wouldn't have her any other way.

The front door clicked as the lock turned, and then swung open. Sara walked into her own apartment, her hard stare encompassing both figures at once without surprise. "You okay, Griss?" she asked calmly, and Grissom nodded, realizing with an odd surge of mingled fear and satisfaction that Laurie Carroll had made one grievous mistake.

She had made Sara Sidle angry.

"I'm fine," he said, equally casual, though his heart was pounding. He'd almost fooled himself into calm, reasonably certain that while Sara was the target of Carroll's revenge, he himself was the one in physical danger. But his heart wasn't at all convinced, and was crying out in rage and anguish at the sight of the gun leveled at Sara's midsection. He clenched his teeth on his emotions and schooled himself to wait.

There was nothing he could do anyway. Words had already failed him.

"I'm here," Sara said flatly, dropping her bag on her breakfast bar as she usually did. Her badge was around her neck and her gun in its holster; she still wore her Forensics vest, and that told Grissom that she must have some plan. She always took it off before leaving the lab, even though it went home with her.

Carroll sighed, as though Sara's arrival completed something for her. She didn't look threatening; small and trim, she looked to Grissom remarkably like the typing teacher at his high school, except that her hair was in a pixie cut instead of a bun. But she handled the gun with the assurance of the expert, and her aim did not waver.

"You're prompt," she said with satisfaction, and Sara shrugged.

"It wasn't hard to figure out what you meant. Your house is still under surveillance; mine was the next most logical choice." She leaned back against the counter, folding her arms. "Though I suppose you could have just stayed at Grissom's."

"The taking's part of it," Carroll said, and walked over to Grissom. "I'm going to take him from you, your most precious possession." She looked down at Grissom with a sort of cool pleasure. "I took the precious things and made them mine. Making you mine would be the ultimate prize, but it's beyond my capabilities." She smiled, and Grissom's spine crinkled unpleasantly. "I know my limits."

"You're wrong," Sara told her, and Carroll laughed as she brought the .45 to bear along Grissom's temple. He tried not to flinch, the back of his mind supplying him with images of close-range head shots.

"Don't give me any lies about him being a person rather than a possession. Lovers own each other, that's how it works. Anything that's loved can be lost."

"That's not it," Sara returned, unfolding her arms and straightening. "He's not my most precious possession." She grinned, a hard flash of teeth. "Close, but...no."

A pang struck Grissom, even though he was assured of her love for him, and one irreverent corner of his mind insisted on speculating what she treasured more.

He squinted out of the corner of his eye. Carroll was frowning. "Don't try lying to me."

"He's not." Sara's voice was passionate. "The thing I value most, you have no control over, Laurie." She took a slow, deliberate step forward. "Do you want to know what it is?"

The pressure of the gun muzzle didn't lessen, but Grissom felt the movement as Carroll shifted her weight uneasily. "You can't stop me."

"No. I can't." Grissom turned his gaze to Sara, but she wasn't looking at him; all her attention was on the smaller woman. He could see the iron tension in the lines of Sara's body, though her hands hung loose and open. "But killing him won't steal my one precious thing from me."

She took another step forward, and Carroll seemed almost hypnotized by her words. "It's my self-respect," Sara went on softly, moving slowly closer. "I love Gil more than anyone else on this Earth, but if he made me lose respect for myself I would leave him in a second."

Grissom drank in her words, ignoring the ache they generated. They made complete sense to him; of course Sara would hold some things higher than even love.

"I lost it once, not too long ago," Sara continued, her tone thoughtful. "And he helped me get it back. He gave me the best gift one human being can give another. But you can't touch it, Laurie. It's beyond your reach." She was standing directly in front of Carroll now, and Grissom swallowed against the lump her statement had raised, and concentrated as Sara's voice dropped even lower.

"My treasure's beyond your limits, Laurie. And you know your limits. So why not let it go?"

See Chapter 9