Title: Bright Lights; Dig City Author: Jayke Manners

Category: Drama / Angst

Spoilers: Only received up to end Season 4 in Aussie – so pretty much anything up to there…

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or it's characters… if I did, at least one of them would be in my bed right now and darn it all… so would I! Oh and the song is by Sting, the one and only…

Summary: Casefile / Angst / GS

Hey, I'm baaack. It was so wonderful to return to such brilliant feedback… I nearly guv up on this but you guys are so sweet, I had to keep going. Thanks so much for the support. Plus I couldn't leave S & G like that could I? Short one but I'll update soon.

PS… Ghibli., all will be revealed… (oooh, eeerrrr)

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SEVENTEEN

Don't stand, don't stand so

Don't stand so close to me

Don't stand, don't stand so

Don't stand so close to me

Greg could not sing. He really couldn't. Grissom mused over this as he entered the DNA lab, wondering why someone who was so bad at something would be intent on alerting that fact to the rest of the world. He raised an eyebrow when the young techie looked up, slightly amused at the speed of which the stereo was turned off. Grissom was slightly disappointed, he always had liked that song.

"Oh Captain, my Captain." Greg saluted. "You're gonna love me."

He pulled a sheet from an overflowing file. "When you mentioned the DNA might all be from the same location, I ran a few extras on the hair and the cotton thread." He hit the projector and the screen lit up, filling the room with a rather nasty looking pattern. "May I introduce, Mr Cladosporium."

Grissom narrowed his eyes. "Mould?"

"Precisely!" Greg was smirking in his usual 'I am the king of the lab' manner. "In fact very much the kind of mould one might find in, perhaps… a locker room shower?"

Grissom grinned, inwardly impressed with the way the young CSI was growing into his new responsibilities. "Nick's bringing some comparisons. Let me know." He turned to leave, casting a quick glance over his shoulder, "Greg?"

Greg looked up, rather pleased with himself.

"Good work. Go home and get some rest, shift's over."

EIGHTEEN

Sara kept her head low as she passed by the break room. Nick was inside with Catherine and Warrick. She didn't think Nick would say anything to the others, but she didn't really want him saying anything to her either, so as they were having their coffee and dunking their morning donuts, Sara walked right on by.

"Sara?"

God, she was so sick of hearing her name like that. The irritation was compounded by the knowledge of its source. Why the hell had she walked by his office instead of going around back? Not thinking straight, too damn tired. She turned and stood in the open doorway.

Grissom tilted his head, inviting her in. He added a quick, "Get the door," although he was pretty damn sure the slab of wood wasn't going to be much help. He motioned to the chair, "Have a seat."

Sara sat, her eyes guarded. Grissom knew she must suspect something, but either way, she wouldn't make it easy. He figured he'd just spit it out – get it over with and bear the brunt of her anger. Regardless, he let out a small sigh before he spoke. "Sara, I'm taking you off the case."

Grissom always hated the phrase, "the air grew thick." It never seemed to apply itself. Whenever a situation of tension developed, he never found the air to be thick, if anything, it thinned out – particles fizzled and created electricity, you were closer to everything and able to move from one place to the next like slicing through ice with a blade. Yet here he was, sitting in the room when the impossible happened. The air grew thicker than he had ever imagined.

Sara sat in complete stillness, for a moment he thought she was going to explode out of the seat and take a swing at him. Instead, she seethed, frighteningly still. Her voice was low, controlled, menacing. "How dare you."

"Sara…"

"I can't believe this," she continued over the top of his protest, "you hypocritical…you just do whatever…" The words evaded her. There were so many thoughts buzzing in her head, she had no way to place them together in a logical order. It was as if all her anger and frustration seeped from her stomach and rose into her throat. And she was choking on the anguish. Suddenly, Sara leapt from the chair and headed for the door, unable to control the urge to get out, to get away before she did something that would have her jailed, or at the very least, fired.

As she reached for the door handle, Grissom spoke. He struggled to keep his voice even. "You know I'm right about this."

"What?" The thickness suddenly dissipated, the air instantly thinning as the yell broke though its haze. Sara swung around, eyes wild. "God Grissom, you are the most arrogant… If it wasn't for me you'd still be sitting around examining the evidence on Ail Carpenter! And you wanna pull me from the case?" Her whole body was starting to shake with fury and frustration, her breath coming out in rasps. "God, the double standards in this place are killing me! Catherine's ex gets called out on murder - you let her all over it. Warrick gambles his life away and you practically give him a god damn promotion! You become obsessed with Lurie and hey, that's just fine! But the second I become effected by a case, I'm compromising the whole fucking unit! I didn't even know these girls Grissom…"

"Sara…"

"NO!" She was now shouting loud enough for the entire building to hear, the force of her own anger burning in her throat. "I'm sick of you treating me like this. It's one rule for Sara and one for everybody else! Well you know what? I've had it Grissom! I …"

"Sara, I know."

The words, though spoken softly, throttled through her rage and hit like a bullet from a shotgun, penetrating into a deathly silence. From his expression, Sara knew he wasn't simply making a statement of agreement.

Grissom watched silently as her mouth moved, as she struggled to form the words, to come to terms with the impossible. She forced a word from her lips, "What?"

Grissom answered in the only way he could, detached. "I know what happened to you Sara. A year ago. I know."

It took every ounce of strength Sara had to remain upright. Her eyes glazed over. She felt her knees buckling, the walls she had so carefully and painfully constructed, crumble to her feet like salt. But she remained, with only the slightest waver. Her tone was accusing, her voice a stony whisper, "Brass."

Grissom shook his head, "Brass didn't say anything."

"Then how…?"

"I see you, Sara." He gazed at her, trying to make her understand. "I… You take two weeks off, come back wearing too much make-up…" He couldn't hold her gaze, his eyes fell. "I see you."

In any other situation, those words would have soothed, the tenderness with which they were spoken caressed her heart and given her hope. But not here, not at this. "The others?" she asked.

"I don't think so. Catherine said something but… I don't think so."

Sara nodded. Grissom wanted to go to her, wrap his arms around her and whisper into her hair that everything was going to be ok. That somehow, everything would go back to normal and it was all – all of it, every last useless minute – just a bad dream that he could take away. But he didn't. He didn't know what to do. It was impossible to even look at her, just standing there – Grissom had never seen someone look so alone in his entire life. So he did the only thing they could both rely on, he became her supervisor. "I want you to go home."

A small laugh escaped her lips, "Grissom. I know what you're thinking, but I'm fine. It was over a year ago, I've worked a hundred cases since then." Her voice started to rise, "You need me on this, you know it…"

"I don't think…"

"Grissom listen to me…"

"It wasn't a request Sara!" She actually flinched at the intensity of his voice. Oh God, he hadn't meant to yell. Grissom sighed and shook his head, his tone softening. "I want you to go home."

Her anger had returned, but finally, she was too exhausted to argue. Sara turned – defeated – and started out the door, pausing when he softly spoke again.

"I'll have one of the boys take you home."

She closed her eyes, almost smiling at the extremity of his reluctance to be any where near her, "I'm fine, Grissom, " she answered, "I can drive."

"I don't think so."

Sara turned, surprised at the intonation. For a long moment she gazed at him, confused, then understanding, the anger grew. It made little difference that he was probably right. "I can drive Grissom."

He held her gaze, unwavering. "And if I asked you to prove it?"

Grissom had never seen her face like this before. She had been shocked by his revelation, but this was something else. He remembered a case, a few months ago, where the victim had been raped and left for dead. The job would've been difficult enough, but was made even worse by the husband of the victim, who rejected the wife's claim that it was his brother. Sara had talked briefly with Grissom when the brother was finally convicted. They watched the couple walk down the hall, a mile away from each other. "I used to think there was nothing worse than rape," she said. "Guess I was wrong." Grissom turned to her, eyes asking the question. Sara had returned the gaze and held it, as if asking him to help her understand, answering for him when he couldn't. "Betrayal."

And now, Grissom was witnessing first hand Sara's worst nightmare. He waited for her to defy him, to start the yelling and accusations, the anger which would cut his legs from under him, but none of that came. She just stood there with that look on her face, as if she had suspected it all along. She was alone, and she couldn't prove her innocence to save her life.