Author's Note: Okay, Chapter 7 is an intermission of sorts from the angst of GSR. AKA: What has been happening in the real world as Sara, Grissom, and Brass have been going at each others' throats? As always, please R&R.

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI or any of its characters. Don't sue me. But if you do own CSI, please drop me a line cause that's pretty awesome that you're reading this!

Important:All thoughts are in italics.

What Lies Beneath, pt 7

The night passed in stunned silence. Brass stayed behind the front lines inconspicuously, leaving the meat of the work to other detectives. Warrick and Nick were assigned to the scene he had just left, and he only stayed long enough to relay the pertinent information. Once they began clearing, he split back to his office.

Catherine noted Grissom's definite absence (and subsequent weak excuse) from her performance meeting. She would have asked questions, but he looked like the proverbial kicked puppy. Putting two and two together to get five square root of three, she dropped the subject quickly and closed the door. Let him wrestle with his demons behind closed doors. Catherine was a close enough friend to know that he savored his privacy. Walking by an hour later she heard the strains of Mozart leaking through the doorframe and smirked.

One thing everyone noticed (but only Greg felt obliged to point out) was the lack of Sara. She passed through the hallways with ghostly quiet. While checking on her DB, Dr. Robbins made the comment that if she turned sideways she'd blow away in the wind. David hesitantly touched her arm and suggested she go home and get some rest, smiling to show his honest concern. She responded warmly, reassuring him that, come 7 AM, she planned on doing just that.

End of shift loomed closer and closer and the loose ends of time frayed farther apart. Sara wandered through well-known streets watching her people of the glass-walls. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was waiting for something. A vision, a sign, an explosion (she laughed at that thought).

Maybe I'm waiting for the white knight on a handsome steed? Who will it be? Captain Brass in gleaming dress uniform, medals shining? Or Dr. Grissom in brilliant full armor? She had to admit the visuals were quite amusing, trying to imagine both of them entering the crime lab on horses.

Elsewhere in the lab sat a morose Dr. Grissom, definitely out-of-armor. Nothing shone about him at the moment and it felt like the universe around him was sapped of color and polish. He caused a dull and grey void wherever he went. Currently, a more appropriate steed for him would be the saddest donkey in Mexico.

The dull grey void rolled up into the break room at approximately 5 AM, attempting to stave off the end-of-shift stretch. He grimaced distastefully at the Hawaiian coffee, the only coffee they had, courtesy of one Greg Sanders. Personally, he enjoyed French vanilla, or just plain Folgers. Nothing exotic.

So I am dull as hell. Another reason… He cut himself off before that train of thought could leave the station. That train had a nasty habit of derailing halfway to its destination and the break room did not need a 50 car pile-up to deal with.

Out of the corner of his mind, Grissom felt Sara enter the proximity. He leaned back in the chair, flattening himself out in hopes of not being seen. Judging by her relaxed state, she had not yet spotted him. But he had noted her, and began watching her approach. He scrutinized how she walked, how she swung her arms by her sides, the pace of her gait, the angle of her head, the crook of her neck, the bow in her slumping shoulders. Every variable was stored for later examination.

He realized he had done this every day for four years, examining her and storing her for later.

Even entomological specimens decay over time. Every specimen has a maximum useful lifetime. Have I waited too long?

He watched her with the ease of a predator sizing up its prey. His stillness allowed him a great advantage over his nimble quarry.

Sara walked into the break room, also frowning once she reached the coffee pot. But she tipped the last of its contents into a mug anyway. She sat down the mug and turned for the sugar and creamer, freezing when she caught sight of motion. A figure in the corner of the room. Her eyes flew up; panic initiated as she backed away. Oh. Grissom.

She's afraid? Of me? A more worrying thought appeared. Of everything… the unknown. Her balance is off.

Sara wordlessly added (what looked like) a pound of sugar to her coffee, then a steady stream of creamer. Grabbing the mug, the prey retreated, facing the predator and keeping her vulnerable side away from him.

All that time their eyes stayed locked on one another, waging a silent war of domination. Remorse battled fear which fought anger. In the end, Grissom never moved and Sara never spoke.

So much for progress, they both thought as the distance between them increased steadily. Grissom found himself missing the warmth her presence brought. Sara, on the other hand, fought the warmth she felt when he looked at her that way. Predatorily, territorially, like she was an object.

I have to let him make his move. I have to leave him alone. Sara passed Nick in a daze.

"Hey, Sara! What… What's up?" He grabbed her arm to stop her from walking past him.

"Oh nothing much Nick, just finishing up that leaf case. We nabbed the guy a few hours ago. Vegetative evidence was 100 proof. All I've got left is the write-up."

He still held her firmly, looking into her eyes beseechingly. "No, I mean, what's up… beyond that."

Sara drug him into a side storage room, lowered her voice and spoke quickly. "Not a word of this to anyone Nicky. Grissom and I are working out a solution. This could be the beginning of the end if… Well, you know. Just know that… I'll miss you."

Nick's eyes widened. "Sara, don't do anything rash here, I mean, if you need somebody to talk to or someplace to stay, I'm always open girl. You know I care. If things go wrong… Give me a call. Don't go disappearing. Or worse." He pulled her into a light hug, squeezing her gently as though she would shatter. "If things go wrong, please let me help. I know it won't be the same, but other people really care for you girl, let us help."

She nodded and smiled, tightening her arms around him briefly. "Thanks Nick. I will." With that she flitted away seeking some place to sit and think everything out. Nick cared. Brass cared.

She decided to stop by the lab and check on her secondary case. Her primary leaf case finished, she was back to her secondary. Her mind had been so strung out since the explosion and now, since Grissom, that she had almost forgotten about the Trudale kidnapping case. Sara stepped lightly into the lab but Greg heard her coming.

"Your DNA sample came back; negative match to Simon Trudale but he shares seven alleles." Greg dangled the results in front of her, waving them enticingly.

Sara hissed as she snatched the paper from him. "Brother. So it was Jeffrey Trudale. His alibi seemed pretty strong but… who can ever tell," she shrugged.

There was a long pause as Sara drifted off into her own thoughts, eyes unfocusing on her surroundings. Greg shifted away, moving back to his work but her voice stopped him. The hair on the back of his neck stood up.

It's now or never. I've thought about this for weeks but only tonight… it may be the last chance I get to ask him. "Do you ever… you know… think of that day?"

When Greg looked up Sara was cradling her hand in her lap. A flurry of emotions crossed his face, stopping at empathy. "Of course. All the time." His expression turned distasteful, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

She exhaled slowly and continued, speaking in a confessional tone. "I just can't seem to forget about it Greg. It's like every time I walk past that window, it shatters all over again. I keep seeing you—" Her breath hitched and she stopped for a moment, swallowing convulsively. "I keep seeing you laying there so helpless." Her head and voice both dropped. "I should have helped you." There. I've said it now. Now it's all out there. I wonder how much he blames me. I wonder…

Motion interrupted her self-deprecating thoughts and she saw Greg spin to look at her. "Sara? You thought you could help me? I had just been blown straight through a glass window, felt the flames licking my ass and you seriously thought you could help me? No girl, the EMTs had to scrape me off the floor. There was nothing you could have done."

He smashed his hands down on the table, startling Sara. Any noise, any motion set her on edge. The explosion robbed her of her defenses. And my common sense, she thought, reprimanding herself for the millionth time for being so jumpy. She held her hands tight and found her gaze drawn to Greg's own hands, which were shaking in time with hers. So. We were both affected more than we'd like to admit.

Sara looked up and smiled falsely, trying to reassure them both. "Flames licking your ass huh?"

Greg's old mischievous grin returned. "Yeah, I finally got some action. Real hot action. Too bad it was over so quick!"

Taking one last deep breath, Sara stood up and approached Greg from behind. Putting her hands on his shoulders she leaned over to look at his face. "Greg? Thanks. Thanks for this. You really, ummm… Well Griss wasn't the best person to…" And I had to know, if it was just me, or if it hurt you too. If it was my fault. I can begin again now, with nothing left to lose. If it comes to that.

He laid his hands over hers, noting that they were still. "S'ok Sara. I definitely understand."

She gently pulled her hands from his and walked to the door, hanging on the doorframe like normal. The look on Sara's face was unreadable to Greg when they locked eyes once again. "Yeah. You do understand Greg. You're good at understanding…."

Thank you my friend, for giving me what I need to start from scratch.

Yet again she slipped away, feeling as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. For weeks, she feared that Greg blamed her for not helping. The look in his eyes that day… burned itself into her soul. Fear, pain, helplessness combined into one look of anguish that she read as an accusation of fault.

I misread. Thank goodness, I misread.

Sara checked the clock on her way back to the evidence vault. 6:49 AM. She promised Grissom that she would be out of there by 7 AM. Sighing, she walked past the evidence vault to the sign-in/sign-out board. There she signed herself out, glaring at the curious stares of the front desk people as she exited towards her car.

See? I can leave on time.

Once in her car, Sara checked the time again. 6:54 AM. Cranking it, she backed out slowly and drove home on autopilot. What she failed to notice was Grissom tearing out of the building just as she turned onto the main road. In her stupor, she also didn't see him jump into his SUV and pull out mere minutes after her. By the time she got to her home Grissom had given up and stopped trailing her to return to his townhouse.

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At Sara's place…

Sara jumped out of her car and ran up the steps, flinging open the door and throwing down her keys. She leapt onto her bed and stretched, determined to get some sleep. Well, more determined to prove Grissom wrong, any way she could.

I'll show him that I can take care of myself. And… if I fail, I still have Brass and Nick and Greg. I still have San Francisco. I still have my mom and brother.

She closed her eyes and curled up, hugging her knees to her.

I'll still have me…

At Grissom's place…

Grissom pulled his SUV into his parking pad and slowly rolled out of the driver's seat. He trudged up the stairs and unlocked the door, laying his briefcase down on the kitchen table. Moving to the stereo, he turned on Pink Floyd, Dark Side of the Moon. He listened to Speak to Me, halfway interested, but really tuned in to Breathe. He grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator, kicked off his shoes, and sprawled out on the couch, watching the equalizer on his stereo bounce up and down to the frequency of the music. Sighing heavily, he closed his eyes and ran through the lyrics alongside Roger Waters.

Breathe, breathe in the air.
Don't be afraid to care.
Leave but don't leave me.
Look around and choose your own ground.

Long you live and high you fly
And smiles you'll give and tears you'll cry
And all you touch and all you see
Is all your life will ever be.

Run, rabbit run.
Dig that hole, forget the sun,
And when at last the work is done
Don't sit down it's time to dig another one.

For long you live and high you fly
But only if you ride the tide
And balanced on the biggest wave
You race towards an early grave.

At 7 AM, Grissom laid there, sipping water on the couch, wondering how many times he had forgotten the sun.

And all I touch and all I see is all my life will ever be? I've touched so little… How many holes have I dug? He looked over at his cell phone, resting on the coffee table.

Is it really time to dig another one?

Author's Note: Ah, here we are, perfectly set up for chapter 8. We've come full circle my friends. Back to first person.