Disclaimer: All right everyone, sing along… "I don't own CSI, its characters, or anything associated with the show. CSI: Crime Scene Investigation is the sole property of CBS and Alliance Atlantis." This document was written purely based on the fact that my muse will not stop nagging me. For the entertainment of you folks only.

Spoiler: Nesting Dolls

Assumption: I am assuming that day shift is 7 a.m. – 4 p.m., swing is 4 p.m. – midnight, and our beloved night shift is midnight until 7 a.m. If anyone knows the true shift schedule, please provide it in a review and I will modify the timetable.

A/N: Thank You Reviewers! Let's get this party started, shall we?

Sara glared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, a look of grim determination on her face. It was Thursday. Finally. Patience was not one of Sara's virtues. She had spent the last 5 minutes analyzing herself in the mirror, making sure she would look presentable tonight, and what she saw was frustrating her.

Her doppelganger's eyes blatantly betrayed her feelings of insecurity. She glared at herself some more, determined to chase her feelings away by sheer willpower alone.

She had spent her week off getting organized. All of her finances were in order. Everything in her apartment had been scrubbed clean, re-organized, or otherwise put in its place to create a sense of stability. She even went shopping, something she despised, and bought new clothes for work.

Her main concern was how the people in the lab would view her now. She didn't want them thinking she was some whiny bitch, or some air-headed emotional bimbo. She feared she had lost the status and respect she'd worked hard to achieve in the past four years. She didn't even want to think about Grissom's opinion of her now. She kept her focus on the office in general.

She would prove to everyone that she was a professional, despite what had happened. It was her new goal, and she was serious about it. Her new clothes were a step in this direction.

Sara had found a counselor who specialized in post-traumatic issues related to violence and death. Her first appointment had been on Tuesday, and although Sara was hesitant to reveal anything significant, she had given Dr. Jennifer Velez a brief overview of her past. Dr. Velez was kind and quiet, non-presumptuous. Sara still wasn't comfortable around her, but she knew deep in her soul she had to learn to cope with her past in order to have any type of future.

Sara had considered resigning and returning to San Francisco, to pursue a different career and start over. But after imagining what was required: leaving Vegas, moving to California, and working from the bottom up, all over again – well – that idea went right out the window. She did mention it as a possibility to Dr. Velez, and she seemed very against it.

Dr. Velez's only suggestion was that she do two things – find one activity outside of work that was purely for her, and find another activity outside of work that would provide her an outlet for her empathy. Sara must have looked puzzled, so Dr. Velez said pointedly, "Take a fun class at the college, something you'd love to do but don't know how, and go volunteer somewhere."

Sara wasn't surprised by the first suggestion; Dr. Velez was associated with Western Las Vegas University. Her office was right off campus. She probably referred a lot of her clients there. Sara smirked to herself as she was leaving, thinking, "We all have our agendas, don't we?"

But she followed the doctor's advice, and went to the university to see what adult education programs they offered. The booklet she'd been handed was sitting on her coffee table, open to the beginning of the listing of available classes. One in particular had caught her eye right off the bat, and she had this light bulb-style idea; she could merge her two activities into one. But she hadn't committed to anything yet. She planned on sharing her idea with Dr. Velez next Tuesday.

She looked at the small flowered clock on her bathroom wall, it was almost 11 o'clock. She'd better hurry – she wanted to get to work early enough to give herself time to prepare herself. Scenarios of Catherine and Ecklie were at the forefront of her thoughts, she kept imagining conversations in her head of how to be respectful and professional towards them, but not act like a roll-over wimpy kiss-ass. She also wondered about Nick and Warrick, if they would treat her differently. And Brass might be different to her as well; he would shelter her and be all fatherly. She didn't need that. She wasn't worried about Greg, she had finally returned his calls, and he was so glad to hear from her, she could almost see him jumping for joy at the other end of the phone. She tried very hard to not think about Grissom at all.

She gave herself one more look in the mirror. She looked like she was going to court, only in more comfortable clothes. She imagined it as a professional, rugged kind of style. She did have to crawl around on floors and on the ground and dig through God-Knows-What as part of her job. So her pants were from an outdoor-camping store, made of some special wonder material that didn't rip, repelled dirt, and "breathed"; and her blouse was scoop-necked, light and feminine. She wouldn't say she looked pretty, she never thought she was all that attractive, but she looked good for her.

She took a deep breath, walked over to the kitchen, picked up her car keys and her "dinner", and walked out the door. She was ready.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Gil woke around 9 p.m. and went through his regular time-to-go-to-work routine. He kept his mind clear of doubts, thinking only of what he needed to do at that particular moment.

His plan was to speak with Sara after he handed out work assignments. He would assign her and Greg together, and Sophia would either be on her own, or with him. He wasn't ready to work a case with Sara just yet, and he was sure she would prefer to be with her friend.

He would explain to Sara the way things would be for the next six weeks. He would be firm and authoritative, but compassionate and open. She would in turn be receptive and understanding. All would be well.

Yeah, right. He had no idea how he was going to do this.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Sara opened her locker to retrieve her vest, noting that her locker deserved a New Sara Overhaul as well, when Greg came bounding into the locker room.

"You're here! Hi! How are you? We have to meet in the common room for assignments in five minutes. Wow, you look hot. Wait, I mean… nice… um…"

"Greg…" Sara grinned. "Knock it off. I've missed you. It's good to be back."

"You didn't miss much. We had a robbery and then we had nothing and then there was a homicide and it was really nasty. I had to go to the scene and there was this dog, and he had crapped all over the dead guy's house, and it stank, and .."

"Is that Miss Sara Sidle I heard?" Nick poked his head around the doorway, interrupting Greg. Nick's voice took on his distinctive sensitive tone, as he asked quietly, "How ya doing?"

"Hi Nick. I'm good."

Nick eyes were bright. He gave her a look asking "Are you sure?" and Sara returned it with one stating "Yeah, it'll be all right."

Greg was sure he was missing something, but before he could open his mouth to speak, Nick said, "I've got to get back to work. I'm glad I caught you before shift started. You take care." His eyes said, "If you need anything at all, come find me and I'll be there for you."

Sara smiled back at him, "Thanks."

Nick hadn't judged her. He cared about her and their unspoken way of communicating still stood firm. His eyes had been warm and gentle. Even though she couldn't see herself with him in a sexual way, she knew her feelings for him ran deep. This was a positive. Perhaps tonight wouldn't be so bad.

Greg interrupted her with, "Let's go get some coffee before assignments, okay?"

"Sure, let's go."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Grissom sat at the head of the common room table. To his left sat Greg and then Sara. Both were quietly sipping coffee. To his right was Sophia, reading through what looked to be trace or ballistics results. She was mumbling to herself.

He had already been sitting at the table when Sara walked in, and he noticed her change in style. She looked very self-assured and he could tell she was trying to present herself as a responsible, competent individual. He couldn't help but be proud of her. She had such stubborn fire in her; it was as if she dared anyone to say she had been out of line.

Time to get to work.

"Sara and Greg, I need you to look into a report of a car theft at the Lincolnside Auto Dealership. This isn't a typical theft, the owner is claiming someone stole 20 vehicles off his lot."

They both nodded and smiled at one another. Grissom knew the dealership specialized in high-end vehicles, and Greg was picking up on Sara's morbid fascination with taking apart other people's very nice and expensive cars.

"Sophia, you need to continue with our homicide, correct?"

Sophia looked up from her paperwork. "Yes. I need to analyze these reports, get some trace results from that lab girl, and I should have a report to you by the end of tonight."

"Good. Anyone need anything from me before we dismiss?"

Nobody spoke. They rarely did. But it never hurt to ask.

"Fine. You're dismissed."

Now things were going to get tricky. As everyone stood up to leave, Grissom stated, "Sara, I need to speak with you in my office for a moment."

Sara paused. Her face remained calm, as if asking her this was a normal occurrence, but Grissom could feel the waves of embarrassment, defiance and fear emanating from her. They flooded him with regret. But he knew of no other way to handle this.

He walked past her, noting Greg's look of concern, and Sophia's complete oblivion that anything serious was going on, and walked to his office. He heard Sara's soft footsteps behind him. His mind echoed Lewis Carroll:

"The time has come…. to talk of many things."