Disclaimer: I still don't own CSI or any of the characters from the show. If I did, this would be on TV and not on the internet.

Help Me

Sara slept through the night on Grissom's couch and woke up about an hour before he got off work. She sat up and looked around his living room. He hadn't been kidding when he said there was lots of bug stuff. About half of his enormous book collection were entomology books. If you could tell one thing about Grissom from his living room it was that he loved bugs. She carefully lifted herself off the couch and moved to the bookshelf. She found a book sort of hidden between several entomology books, sliding it out of its spot on the shelf, she discovered it was a yearbook. Sara was completely surprised to find a high school yearbook in Grissom's collection. He did not strike her at all as the type to have a yearbook. She took it back to the couch and sat down.

Sara blew the dust off the cover of the book and began to flip through the pages. She laughed at the way the kids had their hair and clothing styles. Then she reminded herself it was the early seventies when Grissom went to high school. She only glanced at the underclassmen, she had figured out this was Grissom's senior yearbook. The only thing she really noticed out of place was that there were no autographs on any of the autograph pages. She finally found the G page of the senior class. She scanned down the side to find Gilbert Grissom. Her eyes moved quickly across the page to spot her friend. He looked much younger, yet still like the Grissom she knew. His smile looked forced and like that was really not where he wanted to be. Sara thought he looked sort of cute at that age, but far more serious than the students around him. Until now, Sara had had a hard time picturing Grissom in high school. He looked like the quiet, studious type. That wasn't really a surprise to her, but for some reason she had always had a hard time picturing his face. He did look much more youthful, not like now, his face was old and tired. He had seen so much in the intervening time that would make anyone look old.

She finished looking through the yearbook and found Grissom in the science club. It was the only extra-curricular activity he had been involved in at the school. Of course, in his teens he had spent a lot of time working with the Los Angeles Coroner's Lab. Only a child like Grissom would help perform autopsies after school. Sara entirely lost track of time and nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard the door open.

"Hello Sara, what have you got there?" Grissom asked as he came in.

"Hi, it's your senior yearbook," Sara's face visibly grew pale as she feared he'd be angry.

"Oh, my mom bought that thing for me. I insisted that it was unnecessary, but she bought it anyway. It's been on my shelf since the day I got it," Grissom explained.

Feeling relief that he was not angry, Sara stood up to return the book to its spot on the shelf, "I was just looking through your books and I spotted that. I thought it would be interesting to see what you looked like in high school."

Grissom laughed, "Just don't tell anyone else you saw me, were those clothes back then ridiculous or what?"

Sara grinned, "You weren't too bad. It's some of the other kids. I can't believe so many people really had afros!"

"The seventies were a bad decade as far as clothes and hairstyles went," Grissom made a face, "I never really went in for any of it."

"You sure don't strike me as the type to go for that stuff," Sara agreed, "when I was in high school it was big hair. And I remember when I was in middle school, some of my teachers wore those hideous plaid pants."

"Ah, I remember people wearing those. I never understand that one. I thought those things were so ugly. I thought maybe people wanted to look bad," Grissom sat tiredly on his couch.

"Can I make something for breakfast? You look like you had a long night," Sara observed.

"Yes, we've got a tough case. The police are calling the guy 'Raspy Robber' because he has a raspy voice according to everyone who has been interviewed. He has hit several small stores in the last week. Two liquour stores, a laundromat and a small restaurant. He's not leaving us many clues. We just know all the cases are connected because of his raspy voice," Grissom rubbed his temples.

"That sounds almost like something you'd see on a TV show or something, 'the Raspy Robber'," Sara almost laughed until she caught the tired glare from Grissom.

"Well it's not on TV, and it's starting to really bother me," Grissom sighed, "not a single lead. The shots on video surveillance are too fuzzy to really see his face very clearly."

"I'm sorry it's giving you such trouble. What sounds good for breakfast then?" Sara changed the subject.

"I'm not that hungry, just a bowl of cereal is good for me," Grissom said.

"Okay, one bowl of cereal coming up," Sara headed into the kitchen.

Grissom leaned back into the couch. Sara was right, it was really comfortable. So comfortable in fact that he was nearly asleep when Sara popped her head back into the room.

"Uh Gris, where is your cereal?" she asked sheepishly.

"In the cabinet above the fridge," Grissom told her.

"Okay, I'll be back in a minute, try not to fall asleep," she teased.

Sara returned a couple minutes later with a bowl of cereal for him. She sat it on the coffee table and then went to get her own. They ate their cereal together, with Grissom describing his 'Raspy Robber' case in more detail. The suspect was a middle-aged white male with medium build and a raspy voice. In each case the man uses a gun to hold up whatever store he happens to be targeting. There had been four robberies connected to the man this week alone. Catherine and Warrick were on the case with him, but they were not finding any trail of evidence. It was a matter of hoping they could either find something at an old scene or he'd get careless and leave something at a new scene.

"Thanks for the delicious breakfast Sara," Grissom joked as she stood up to return their empty bowls to the sink.

"I slaved in the kitchen for three minutes," Sara laughed.

"I think it's time for me to go to bed," Grissom stood slowly.

"You look tired," Sara agreed.

"And this couch is trying to make me fall asleep," Grissom smiled, "so I better get off to bed."

"Good night, or morning. Whatever, just sleep well," Sara laughed.

Sara was sleeping on the couch again when Grissom woke up that evening. She seemed to be having a dream because she was flopping around a lot. He watched her with interest for a moment, before going in the kitchen. He was looking for something to have for dinner when a scream pierced the silence. He bolted to the living room to see a very confused Sara sitting up on the couch.

"Sara, you okay?" he asked.

"I-I had a nightmare," she responded breathlessly, "it was terrible."

Grissom could see pain in her eyes as she moved to sit with her, "Want to tell me about it?"

"Just give me a minute," she visibly tried to calm herself down.

"Take your time," he said softly.

Sara began to speak, her voice shaky as she was on the verge of tears, "I dreamed about that night. I was raped all over again. It was awful. I can't even describe the feelings."

Grissom moved to put a comforting arm around her, but she jumped up.

"Don't touch me," she sobbed.

"I'm sorry," he looked into her eyes. They were filled with fear and pain.

"No, I'm sorry. It's not you, I just, I feel. I don't want you to touch me right now is all," she tried to explain.

"It's okay Sara, I won't hurt you," he stood up.

"Please, leave me alone right now," she ran to the bathroom and slammed the door shut.

Grissom was left in a cloud of confusion. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do in this situation. She said to leave her alone, but clearly she needed comfort. He stood outside the bathroom door and upon hearing her sobs, he knocked on the door.

"Sara, can I come in?" he asked gently.

"Can't you leave me alone?" she yelled.

"Sara, you have no need to be afraid of me, I just want to help you," Grissom explained softly.

He was met by silence. A minute later the door opened, and Sara threw herself into his arms.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me," she wrapped her arms tightly around him.

"It's okay, you are clearly still traumatized by that experience," Grissom soothed.

"I thought I was over it, but that dream seemed so real. It's like I went through it again," Sara sighed heavily.

"Maybe you should see a counselor," Grissom started.

"No," Sara cut him off, "I can't talk to a stranger about my problems, it just doesn't work for me."

Grissom just let her cry on his shoulder. He felt really bad for her and wished there was something, anything he could do for her to take her pain away. Instead he just stood outside the bathroom with her, embracing her as she poured her heart out through her eyes. After several minutes she pulled back, her eyes puffy and red.

"Can you take me to my place before you go to work?" she asked.

"Yes, but what for?" Grissom questioned.

"If I'm going to be staying at your house I will need some of my own things, clothes and such," Sara explained.

"Sure, we can go right now," Grissom offered.

"All right, let's go," Sara walked away.

Grissom stood staring after her for a moment. Sara left him in such a whirlwind sometimes. One minute she had been sobbing on his shoulder, the next she wanted to go get her things from her apartment. Realizing he was still standing outside the bathroom, he chased after Sara to drive her home.

A/N: The 'Raspy Robber' is ripped from the headlines in Denver. I was watching the news the other night and there is a really a guy who has robbed 19 different places recently. He has a hoarse voice so they have nicknamed him the 'Raspy Robber'. I just kind of borrowed the idea of it for the case Grissom is working on. UPDATE Since writing this chapter, the real life suspected 'Raspy Robber' has been caught and taken to jail.