SEVEN DAYS IN THE LIFE OF SARA SIDLE:

Spoiler: Lady Heather's box. (I don't remember if Sara ever worked in the Lady Heather cases but for this story I'm assuming that she didn't.)

Notes: This is a Grissom/Sara story that centers on Sara's life after "Bloodlines". Each chapter will involve one or two of her colleagues doing or saying something that will affect her life. No matter what happens on each chapter though, I promise you there'll be a happy ending.

Prologue

Sara had listened as Grissom talked about his trip and about the precautions to be taken for a trip to Central America, but she hadn't paid much attention; it was hard for her to hear him talk about going away.

Grissom eventually noticed her lack of response.

"Hey, you must be tired. I'm sorry." He said gently. "Go home. You need to sleep."

Sara gave him a little smile of thanks.

"Bye, Grissom." She said as she got out of the car. But just before she could close the door, Grissom reached across the passenger seat and stopped her.

"Sara?"

"Yes?"

"Think about it, ok?" he said. She was going to ask what he meant by that, but he quickly closed the door and left.

'Think about what?' thought Sara as she climbed the stairs to her apartment. Think about not drinking anymore? She was all for that. After tonight's scare, she had decided not to touch the stuff every again.

Think about taking time off? Well, she couldn't do that now, could she? Without him, they would be short-handed at the lab; she had several pending cases- She just couldn't do it. Besides, (and she rolled her eyes when she asked herself this) where would she go? Home? Disney World?

Lake Atitlán?

She blushed when she noticed that she was clutching the brochure against her chest, as if it were something valuable that she wanted to keep close to her heart. She looked at it for a moment. She had the feeling that he had given it to her with some hidden purpose. Maybe he wanted to entice her with the beauty of the lake… maybe he hoped she'd go, now that they were off season-

'Stop it.' Sara told herself impatiently; 'stop over-thinking'

She needed to be realistic and she better start right now: Grissom had said many things but the one that should stick in her mind was that he wished she didn't have feelings for him. And as for following him to some far away place... no way. She knew Grissom; he would never sacrifice his precious solitude for her.

And besides... even if conditions were different, even if she somehow got the time and a place to go to... she'd never leave, would she?

She sighed. In the quiet of the night, when all she heard were her own hesitant steps down the hallway, she could admit it, if only to herself: She was afraid of taking time off.

She couldn't imagine doing nothing for a whole day, let alone a week. She couldn't imagine lying under the sun in some beach, alone with her thoughts. She could not do it. She needed to be active; she needed to exhaust herself… She had gotten to a point where she could only fell asleep after working a full eighteen-hour shift... or after drinking enough to pass out.

Sara rubbed her face, tiredly.

"Just stop it." She whispered. Stop thinking.

She entered her apartment and leant against the door after closing it.

She looked at the brochure for a moment, and then she shoved it under the phone book. She would not look at it again; at least not until Grissom's return; if he told her he had enjoyed not having every minute of his time filled with work, then she would think about traveling. Because she knew Grissom, (and a little ironic smile graced her lips as she thought this) No way would he last two weeks away from the lab; he was a work junkie, just like her…

He'd be back in a week if not sooner.

FRIDAY

Sara couldn't believe it. Problems had never piled up like this, at least not while she was still in her little apartment, her sanctuary. Once she was at the lab, life was fair game and she dealt with whatever was thrown her way. But today she felt as if she were under some sort of Murphy's law curse:

1. For the first time in years, her alarm clock had malfunctioned and she had overslept;

2. She had a headache (her fault; she was hung over after all) and she didn't have any painkillers around;

3. She had taken too long to get dressed (her fault again since she hadn't done any laundry in a week and the few clean clothes she had needed to be ironed).

4. Just as she was finishing grooming, she had accidentally spilled toothpaste on her blouse (her fault again; she was brushing her teeth and blow-drying her hair at the same time).

"Oh, damn it, not now!" she had growled, running back to her bedroom to change. The only other item that was ready to wear was a blouse that didn't go too well with her pants. Not that she cared that much about fashion, not really; what bothered her was to be late for Catherine's first night as Supervisor. A pissed off Catherine might decide to assign her the worst case.

She was ready to go but first she wasted some precious minutes looking for her car keys; she looked everywhere and she was truly getting upset when she remembered… A cop had confiscated them last night.

It's not that she had forgotten last night; she had simply managed to keep it from overwhelming her with guilt. But now that she had allowed the memories to invade her thoughts, she swallowed hard and for a moment she simply stood in the middle of her living room/kitchen/office, reliving everything that had happened.

She couldn't tell which moment had been the worst: Was it when the cops recognized her as a CSI? Or when they said they'd call her boss? Or was it when Grissom looked at her in the eye, realizing that she wasn't as tough as she desperately wanted the world to think?

She shook her head in anger. She needed to forget last night. Going to work would help.

All was forgotten by the time she entered the CSI lab. Sara Sidle the person turned into Sara Sidle the investigator: completely professional and capable of facing Murphy's law, daring it to try its best.

And just as she had suspected, Catherine wasn't happy about her coming in late and as the cases had already been assigned, she got the one that required visiting a garbage dump. The cops were looking for a female body.

"It's almost certain that Stephanie Cochran is buried somewhere in there," Catherine explained, "CSI is working around the clock since this morning and we'll be helping Eckley's team. Well, you will, that is."

"Oh." Sara mumbled. That was bad, but nothing she couldn't handle. "I'll see you later, then." She said distractedly and left.

Catherine shook her head.

She would have to talk to Sara one of these days. Really, that blouse didn't do anything for her. Mustard and stripes, for God's sake!

By the time Sara returned to the lab, her coveralls were filthy and she had seen enough rotten vegetables to wonder if she'd ever fancy another salad in her lifetime. No, she hadn't found the female body they were looking for, but her work hadn't been in vain: she had found an arm: a male arm…with intact fingers, which meant ID would be possible. 'So there, Murphy', she thought as she went to talk to Catherine. 'My little trip to the dump wasn't a complete waste!'

Catherine was checking out the overtime sheet when Sara knocked on her door. Catherine took one thoughtful look at Sara, who was sporting a freshly-showered, no-time-for-make-up look… plus the same baby-puke colored blouse. Catherine sighed. One of these days, she'd have to give Sara a little talk. Woman-to-Woman talk. Chic-woman to not-so-chic woman talk.

Meanwhile, she listened to Sara talk about Eckley's case. When Sara finished explaining about the arm, Catherine decided that the time had come for a little talk.

"Sara," she said, "Don't you ever get tired of wearing those combat boots?"

"What's wrong with them?" Sara frowned.

"They're masculine shoes." Catherine observed. Then she added with a kindly tone, "Look: I know we do a hard physical work and we need to be comfy, and I know that Grissom would never tell you this, but Sara, we don't deal only with evidence and dead bodies; we deal with the public too. We sometimes need to do some extra effort, but it's worth it, don't you think? After all," she smiled, "being pretty isn't something to be ashamed of-"

Sara hesitated. Somewhere in those words there seemed to be both an insult and a compliment, but she just wasn't sure.

"Well-" she started, but Catherine was still talking.

"-we just have to help nature a little." Catherine said, "And clothes can do a lot for you but they can turn against you too," she said gently, while eyeing Sara's blouse "Mustard doesn't go well with your skin tone, Sara. Those horizontal stripes are a big no-no for you either, because they emphasize your midriff, which isn't your best feature since you stopped exercising-"

"Excuse me?-"

"-Men notice all this, believe me. Even Grissom-" She said meaningfully.

"I don't think he has the time" Sara said with a forced smile

"Oh, please," Catherine rolled her eyes skeptically, "Grissom's a guy, Sara. And like all guys, he notices things. And if you don't believe me, just let me say two words: Lady Heather-"

Sara frowned

"Lady-?"

"- I mean," Catherine continued, "nobody would have thought that Grissom would be attracted to her, but there he was, finding excuses to talk to her alone. Men are all the same, Sara. Show them a little cleavage and black stockings and they're putty in your hands-"

Sara was busily trying to remember this Heather woman. She remembered the web site, mainly because Nick and Archie had been drooling over it and she had teased them a little. But nobody had ever mentioned anything about Grissom-

She blinked when she realized that Catherine was still talking.

"-so you see," Catherine was saying, "- a push-up bra could make a big difference-"

"If I wanted to look like a slut-" Sara muttered.

"What?" Catherine asked, lifting her eyebrow.

"Nothing." Sara replied.

"Uh, huh." Catherine nodded, knowing very well that Sara was getting pissed off. It was time to cut short this talk, "So Sara; all I mean is, if you have a great bod, it's ok to show it off now and then." Catherine smiled winningly, "Just don't wear horizontal stripes, ok?"

"Right." Sara muttered, pushing her seat back, "Well. I have to go to the morgue. Doc Robbins promised to look at my arm-" She left Catherine's office and strode purposefully down the hallway but in a direction opposite the morgue.

She just had to visit Lady Heather's web site.

Catherine let her go with a little sigh. Horizontal stripes and that awful color- Poor girl. She paused briefly to wonder if she had made a mistake by mentioning Heather. It was old history and Grissom had probably forgotten all about her, but Sara might not see it that way-

Oh, well. It might serve as a wake up call for the girl. Sara had potential… if she only took advice!

NEXT CHAPTER ---SATURDAY: Greg

TBC

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