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: Unbearable

A/N: Finally! I think things will be getting interesting now. I'm trying to wrap this fic up by Thursday evening, since I have no faith in TPTB. I may not make it, but I'm going to try. So expect some more chapters very soon. Reviews are wonderful. I love reviewers. You all make my day and make me want to write more.

Two months had passed since Sara started volunteering at the women's shelter. Her evenings before work were full, between training at the shelter, and her class at the university. She had to cut back on her overtime hours immensely; her life outside work was more important to her now.

However, she found her job had become easier for her. The pain was still there in almost all of her cases, but she could disconnect herself and work through it. Her solve rate was excellent.

Sara was happy, she figured, for her. It was a new emotion for her, so she wasn't really sure how she felt. She only knew she felt better than before.

That was until she read today's newspaper.

There was an article on the front page of the "Local" section, highlighting the shelter, and their upcoming publicity event. Sara had helped organize the event, and there was a medium-sized picture of her, Ms. Ellen and the two other event volunteers standing outside the small brick building, smiling into the setting sun.

When the reporter had stopped by to interview them late last week, Sara had thought nothing of it. But now she realized that her flapping jaw might have gotten her into trouble, as she was mentioned throughout in the article. How she worked for the Las Vegas Crime Lab, and that she had recruited a few members of the lab and the police department to participate in the event.

She had kept her volunteer work quiet. Only Greg knew how she spent her time outside work. The thought of the entire lab knowing what she was doing was humiliating. What will they think of me? Will they assume I've been abused too? I don't need them prying into my personal life.

She was also quite sure that Ecklie was not going to care for the unanticipated publicity for the lab. She did not want another confrontation with him. He couldn't make her give up volunteering, could he?

As for Grissom, she had no idea what he would think. Not like she cared… much.

She left for work early, unable to shake the feeling of apprehension that clung to her.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Greg had just arrived for shift, brimming with excitement. Rumor had it that a new CSI was arriving tonight to work with Nick on the swing shift. Greg was hoping for a young, pretty, single blonde.

He prayed they wouldn't get called out to a scene. He wanted to hang around the lab and get the scoop on the new recruit. Most likely the new CSI hadn't shown up at the lab yet – Greg remembered spending most of his first night filling out paperwork and getting a physical from a very unfriendly nurse.

Greg had brought in the "Local" section of today's newspaper. He couldn't wait to razz Sara because she was on the front page. Although, in all seriousness, he was super proud of her, and thought she looked fabulous in her picture. The young woman to the left of her was pretty hot, too, and Greg was going to ask what her status was.

He was the first to arrive in the locker room, and as he was hanging his coat up, Sara walked in.

He sensed her uncertainly and asked, "What's wrong?"

"Did you see today's paper?"

"Yeah!" Greg waved his copy in the air. "I think you look great! Who's the hot chick standing next to you on the left? Is she single?"

"Greg!" Sara reached for the paper, but Greg snatched it away from her.

"What? You don't want everyone to see how great you look?"

"No... it's not that… I don't want the lab to know about it…I might get in trouble…"

"Know about what?" Nick and Warrick both poked their heads into the locker room.

Sara looked mortified, and Greg calmed down a bit. He handed the newspaper to Warrick.

"Sara's in the paper, but she wants to keep it quiet."

Both Nick and Warrick read the small article beneath her photo, Nick reading around Warrick's shoulder.

Nick finished first and looked up at her with pride and newfound understanding. He smiled. So this is what you've been up to.

Yeah. Sara dropped her head, cheeks flushed, embarrassed by all the attention.

Warrick spoke quietly, "Sara, you really did this? Organized this event?"

"Yeah."

"Wow. This is great. Good for you!" Warrick beamed at her.

"I agree," Nick echoed. "I think this is fabulous." He walked over to her and enveloped her in a huge embrace, whispering in her ear, "I'm proud of you."

"Wait," Warrick said, "If he gets a hug, I want a hug."

"Aw, c'mon!" Greg interjected, feeling left out. "It's my newspaper! And if this is going to turn into some big mushy sapfest, I get to hug her first!"

"What's this about a newspaper?" Grissom demanded, interrupted them.

Greg watched the stances of his friends change instantly. Warrick immediately turned to face Grissom, as did Nick, both taking defensive stances in front of Sara. Nick was closest to Sara, practically blocking her from Grissom's view, and Greg didn't miss Nick's glare at Grissom either. Sara immediately turned and stood facing her locker, head down, clearly embarrassed.

They're protecting her from him.

"It's nothing, Griss," Warrick said. "Greg's just playing around."

Greg shot Warrick a dark look, but played along. "Yeah, it's just something I wrote that got published in the newspaper. It's… a personal ad."

Nick shot Greg a complimentary look, and continued with the ruse. "Yeah, we were just razzing him about it."

"May I see the newspaper?" Grissom's tone was authoritative. It wasn't a question.

Warrick had the paper folded over in his hand, so that the picture of Sara was hidden.

"It really isn't a big deal," Warrick stated firmly.

"If it is my CSI's newspaper, which does not belong at the office," Grissom intoned, shooting Greg a nasty look which Greg promptly returned, "then it is a big deal to me."

"The newspaper, please, Warrick."

Warrick rolled the newspaper up tightly, and practically smacked Grissom's chest with it.

"Here ya go, boss. Nick? You coming?" Warrick's tone was mildly defiant as he walked into the hallway.

"Yup, there's no need to hang around here anymore." Nick's tone was filled with much more animosity. He turned to Sara and shot her a look of compassion. If you need me…

Sara smiled weakly at him. I'll come find you.

Nick stormed by Grissom, not looking at him, and he and Warrick disappeared from Greg's view.

Greg didn't want Sara around while Grissom read her article. So he walked over to her, again blocking her from Grissom's view.

"Hey, Sara! I need a big favor. I was going to ask one of the guys but since they're busy, would you help me get something from my car?"

"Sure," Sara said quietly.

Greg touched her shoulder to get her to follow him. He shuffled her past Grissom, who was standing in the doorway looking somewhat confused and mostly angry. This was typical of Grissom as of late, so Greg completely ignored him.

"It'll be all right," he said quietly to her as they walked down the hallway together. "You did a nice thing, there's nothing wrong with that, and it'll be all right. If anything, you made the lab look good."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Grissom walked back to his office and unrolled the newspaper. What was the big deal with this?

Grissom felt lost. His team seemed to have re-solidified, but without including him. They were protecting her from me. I saw it. And they didn't want me to see this. Why?

Three seconds after he looked at the paper, Grissom knew the answers.

Underneath the photograph of Sara and three other women, were the words "Criminalist And Local Shelter Team Up To Host All Day Women's Safety Event"

Grissom read the small article, describing how a Miss Sara Sidle was volunteering her time at the battered woman's shelter off Desert Hill Road. How she and two other women had organized the event under the supervision of a Ms. Ellen. Strange name.

It explained how Sara worked at the Las Vegas Crime Lab as a criminalist for the night shift, and that she had recruited some people from the lab and the police department to participate in the event.

The article went on to describe the activities: various seminars relating to women's safety, domestic abuse, and rape; a presentation by a local all-women shooting club regarding firearm safety; and two installments of an hour long self-defense class. The event was going to be held at the shelter on Saturday.

This is where she has been. Why she isn't working overtime anymore. She has been doing this.

And suddenly Sara's strange conversation in his office from two months ago made sense.

That's what she meant. That's why the cases bother her. She thought she was helping them, but she wasn't.

Grissom felt a pang of sadness at Sara's confusion in her role as a criminalist.

I have no idea why she thought we would help people – we see them on the worst day of their lives.

But… she figured that out. That's why she wanted to see that DB in the morgue. She was proving to herself that she couldn't help her. And now, she's volunteering at a battered woman's shelter, because she can help there.

Grissom's heart filled with a new emotion – pride. He was almost overcome with it.

I have to speak with her about this. Tonight. I'm going to tell her about Sophia, and how it was a misunderstanding. I'll tell her how proud I am of her.

Doubt echoed in the back of his mind. "What if she won't listen?"

As Grissom stood up to leave, he noticed an unfamiliar figure standing in his doorway.

"Excuse me; you are Dr. Grissom, correct?" The soft-spoken young man appeared somewhat skeptical as he scanned Grissom's office.

"That is correct." Grissom shifted into his quirky scientist mode. He loved to do this, to knock people off-balance. "And you would be…?"

"Scott Bennington. CSI Level 2 from the Santa Clara DA in California."

The man was tall, at least six foot, with short dark hair and a lean build. He was most likely in his mid forties. He stood unobtrusively in the doorway, and extended a well-tanned hand out to Grissom, unaffected by Grissom's cheeky verbal inflections.

Hadn't Ecklie said something about a new CSI?

Grissom approached him, shaking his hand. "What brings you to Las Vegas, Mr. Bennington?"

"I'm here on a six-week rotation program. I am to report to a Ms. Catherine Willows, but I was told she was out at a scene, and I thought I would take myself on a tour of the lab."

Scott looked away from Grissom, his intense blue eyes taking in every detail of Grissom's office. Grissom got the distinct impression the man was cataloguing everything he saw. He's clearly intelligent.

"I read your article in Forensic Magazine. The one on mass grave deterioration rates? It was very enlightening."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," Grissom replied. Polite banter was not Grissom's forte, and he hoped this Scott Bennington would depart soon.

Scott must have read Grissom's mind, because he calmly dismissed himself two seconds later.

"I guess I should be going. It was nice meeting you, Dr. Grissom. I hope we will speak again soon." Scott's tone was polite and respectful.

"It was nice meeting you, too, Mr. Bennington."

As Scott went to leave, Grissom picked up the newspaper off his desk, determined to go speak to Sara about the article. Unfortunately, he didn't have as good a grip on it as he thought, and the interior portions of the newspaper slipped out onto his desk and the floor.

"I'll get that," Scott said, stepping back into Grissom's office and bending over to pick up the scattered papers.

"Uh… no, it's all right."

Scott ignored him, and organized the papers back into their proper order. He reached out with his right hand for the front page of the section, the page with Sara's picture.

Grissom handed it to him.

As Scott wrapped the front page around the section, and went to fold it in half, his eyes caught the photograph of Sara, and he paused.

Grissom sensed something was wrong immediately, and his apprehension grew as the younger man began to read Sara's article.

"Dr. Grissom, does Sara Sidle work here at this lab?" Scott's voice was soft, but heavy with some unknown emotion.

"Yes, she does. She works the night shift, for me." Grissom surprised himself as his tone grew possessive.

"Would you introduce me to her, please?"