Disclaimer: Just borrowing them. I understand that they belong to others.

I am going out of the country tomorrow for a couple of weeks. I will try to post the rest before I go.

I appreciate the nice feedback coming this way.

Thanks, Sheila

Chapter 7

The pounding on her front door was incessant. The sound of it was only interrupted by periodic messages on her answering machine. She knew exactly who was at her door.

Beep! "Sara, I know you're in there….This is my fourth message since I got here. And I am not leaving. So, here is my new plan. You have not answered the door, and I have every reason to believe you are in there. In 30 seconds, I am going to call fire and rescue. I am going to tell them nobody has heard from you in three days, and that we have reason to believe that you have been incapacitated, maybe you slipped in the shower and hit your head, I don't know yet. But trust me, it'll be good. My guess is that we'll be breaking in your door in about 15 minutes. …And I don't want to hear one complaint. The truth is that I don't know if you are okay. You hear me, Sara…"

She opened the door before he could hang up. She was bleary eyed; her hair was in her face. Sweats hung loosely on her hips. Her t-shirt was thin and worn. Her skin was white, almost translucent. The bruises were mere shadows on her thin face. The remnants of the boot print were like a ghost fading into her cheek.

"Sara?" His voice was soft. She just stared. Her pupils seemed small. He reached out and touched her on the arm. Any concerns about her haziness were quickly erased when she brusquely pulled away and disappeared into her apartment. Grissom followed. It was dark inside. A stab of pain told him that he located her dining room table. He searched for a light, and when he couldn't, he stumbled to the wall, found a window, and raised the shades. The soft light made a difference. Next, he began pulling our shades, and opening windows. It was hot outside, but inside, it was hot and stale smelling. He would worry about the air conditioning later. He turned to find Sara seated on her couch. It had clearly become her bedroom. The floor was littered with cups and prescription bottles. Instant soup containers were strewn around the couch.

He picked one up and looked at her. "You eating anything besides salt and dehydrated vegetables?"

She ignored him.

"Sara, what's wrong?"

"When it's time to go back to work next week, I'll be there." Her voice was flat, something he had never heard from her.

He let out a breath. Puzzled as to where to take this, he began picking up containers from the ground. A few moments of awkward silence, and he stopped what he was doing, sitting down beside her.

"I don't know what to do. I want to help."

"There isn't anything you can do. I'm fine. Just tired. Pain meds, you know?"

"Yeah." He reached to the floor beside her and picked up the bottles. "You've got quite a cocktail here: Percodan, Ibuprofen, Flexerall, Vicodan. How many doctors are you seeing, Sara?"

"Just one."

"Do you suppose he or she wants you to take all of this…potentially at the same time?"

"Grissom…you don't need to be here. Swear to God, I will be back at work the minute my leave is over. Earlier, if you let me."

"Sara, I don't even know where to start."

"You know, Gris, I haven't had a shower in a couple of days. So I think I'm going to do that now. And then I'll call this afternoon and we can talk." Sara stood, simulating an energy he couldn't feel in her.

"Okay, you go ahead and do that. I'll wait right here."

"Ah, I don't think so."

Grissom stood up, blushing slightly. "Sorry. I'll wait outside your apartment."

"No! Grissom, go…away. Please."

He brushed his beard absently. "No."

"You're kidding, right?"

"No." This response had become safe territory.

She dropped back down on the couch beside him. "What do you want?"

"Right now, I'm pretty confused about that, but let's start by getting you out of this apartment."

"Grissom, I am in no condition. Really. I told you that I haven't showered in two days."

"That's okay. I'll wait. Seriously. I'll just sit here. Maybe I'll get the air circulating in this place or clean up or something."

"You want me to go out like this!" gesturing at her face.

"Bruises are almost gone, Sara. How's that shoulder feeling?"

She stared at the floor. "Okay, I'll…I don't know…Don't clean my house. It's embarrassing. Just sit. Okay. Just sit." She got up and backed away from him, making sure that he stayed seated.

………………………………............................................................................................................................

It was a rather odd assembly in Nick's opinion. Doc Robins, Warrick, Greg, David, Archie, Hodges, and Jacqui were all seated along with Nick around the large lab table. It was the table with the light underneath that Doc Robins liked so much and so he had to grin a lttle as Doc surveyed it, discussing its merits with David.

Hodges was complaining to Jacqui that he only came for the promise of free food, and if this was some sort of a joke, he certainly did not find it funny. Before he could continue his litany of unhappiness with an obviously bored Jacqui, Jim Brass came through the door with an armload of pizzas. Behind him, two officers followed, each carrying a cooler.

"Hey guys! Glad you all could make it. I have pizza for everybody: pepperoni, sausage, veggie, anchovy, and all of them with extra garlic." He passed the boxes around the table. "This is the good stuff. Like they make back in Jersey; thin and rich and greasy."

"All of them have garlic?" Greg scrunched up his face.

"Of course! Not my fault your people prefer fish soaked in lye. Which since you told me that, Greggy I have decided that Lutefisk is the single most, bizarre food thing ever."

Warrick grinned at Nick. Brass was clearly bringing a special energy with him tonight.

"So I imagine that you folks are curious as to why I called you all here tonight." He looked around the room. "We've been working a case that's, how shall I say,…dead in the water. And I've been riding these guys about it 'cause I want this perp. And I've been riding them 'cause I've been in a funk, I guess. For this I apologize. Nicky, Rick, Greg. Sorry." Greg looked around as if waiting for the joke to be on him.

Brass continued. "I was about to give up, and then I remembered this thing we used to do back in the day, pretty much before DNA, when we were sort of a loose groups of cowboys around here. We'd get all our best minds around the table and talk it out, all night if we had to. And I thought, what the hell, Gil's off for a couple of days, and so let's think outside the box."

"Jim, if you'll recall, I used to be around then, and I know exactly what you're up to."

"I know, Al. Sometimes, it was a bust. But we had our moments. In fact, I seem to remember this one time when you had…how much was it…we were working the Sampson murders, I think and …"

"Okay, all right, Jim. But those were different days. Ecklie is going to blow a blood vessel." Doc said, shaking his head.

"So what. I'm no stranger to demotion. I fully expect to spend my twilight years with the department as a beat cop on the strip. So, if you are not on board, grab some pizza and thank you for your time. Everyone else, there is soda and beer in the coolers. We are going to work this case out, step by step."

"Beer. In the lab." Hodge was staring at Brass.

"So, I said we used to be looser than we are now. Look, if we could take the evidence to a nice steakhouse, I'd be treating you all right now. But we can't. And while getting plowed would not be helpful, a couple of beers helps the time go by, maybe open up some creativity. What do ya say?"

David was already at the cooler reaching for a long neck.

"Hey David, how about a Bud." Greg was reaching toward him.

Doc Robins took one, and then looked at the beer set in front of David. "I have seen you drink, David. How about you stick to Coke."

Gradually around the table, people set to work.

"Geez, Greg. Take it easy. You drink like you still use a fake ID."

"It would have killed you to pick up a nice Merlot."

"Hodges, does your mama like you?"

"Let me take a look at that weird book. I hear it's been stomping you guys for weeks."

"For the love of pete. People, wear your latex when you are handling evidence. Just because it has been processed doesn't mean you can just start fondling it or anything."

"What's Grissom up to? Didn't think he took days off."

"Hmmm. Sara gone. Grissom gone. Methinks this is connected."

"Shut up, Hodges. Oh, and can you pass the pepperoni?"

"Did Grissom used to come to these…think and drink sessions?"

"Yeah, Greg. He used to dance on the tables. I got pictures."

"Easy, Jim. He's liable to believe you."

"Hell, I hope he did go to see Sara. She could use a friend."

"I hear that boot print on her face is going to scar."

"I swear to God, Hodges. If you do not shut it, I am going to get you some personal experience with a boot print to the cheek."

"Easy does it, Nicky. We got work to do."