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 Mr Will would be at the mercy of mine. (Bring the handcuffs CSI man)

Summary: Casefile / Angst / GS

Ok, this one is short I know, but I'm still figuring out where this is going. Thanks you all SO MUCH for reviewing, it definitely keeps me writing - especially when I'm about to run, screaming from the bedroom, "Why can't I just fall asleep? WHY?"

Rob – what the heck are you on about? I tried to decipher your review for aages and in then end, gave up. FanFic Obsessive – assume nothing MWAHAHAHAHAH. Pook, god love ya. God love all of ya, you really made my day with your support!

I really am not sure where this is heading… but all aboard the ANGST TRAIN! (and hope is eternal SMK)

TWENTY NINE

Sara nodded at the officer standing outside the interrogation room. He was young, new uniform, boots polished to perfection. "They done in there already?" she asked.

He smiled, thinking if all CSI's looked like this at the end of shift he was damn glad he'd chosen to follow in his father's footsteps and become a cop. "Yeah," he replied. "Bastard lawyered up."

"He's still in there?"

"Until the cavalry arrives." His gaze slid down, not bad, not bad at all. He stole a cursory glance at her left hand and was considering asking a damnfool question when she smiled her thanks and disappeared through the watch-room door. Oh well, he was sure there'd be a next time.

THIRTY

Grissom ran a hand through his hair, trying to pull the tension from his forehead as he walked down the hall. He was headed back to his office, the interview officially over. After the chilling smile Corbett had delivered, his next move was to request a lawyer. He then leaned back in his chair with the most unsettling air of confidence Grissom had ever seen, and said no more.

Exhaustion filled every inch of his body, the past few days had taken their toll. He stopped by the break room to grab a coffee, debated simply exiting the building and going straight home for all of three seconds and ended up exactly were he had started, head in hands seated behind the desk in his office.

"You okay?"

His head jerked up at the familiar voice and he smiled somewhat ruefully at the sight of a battered and worn out Catherine, leaning with her head against the doorframe.

"Mmm," he answered. "You?"

"Yeah."

Grissom marvelled at the strength of the woman standing before him; she really was something. The things she had survived, had become from experiencing them… He knew she spoke the truth about being okay. Maybe they all would be. Tomorrow.

"I sent Warrick and Nick home," she told him. "I've gotta go too, Lindsay's gonna forget what I look like."

He nodded, "No, she wont. Thanks Catherine."

"You should go home too."

"I know." He grinned when she raised an eyebrow. "I will."

"Night Grissom."

"Night Catherine."

Grissom sighed, this time seriously considering taking Catherine's advice. He looked at his watch, he hadn't slept more than twelve hours in what, nearly four days? Paperwork could wait, the case was far from over, but they wouldn't have the warrants' for a few hours anyway. There was nothing here that couldn't wait until tomorrow night. Except of course, Sara's file.

Which he had just noticed sitting on the corner of his desk.

THIRTY ONE

Sara leaned back against the wall of the watch-room, hidden in the darkness from the man who sat casually in his chair, fingers playing a photograph over and around like an ace from a poker deck. She felt somehow removed, as if she were watching herself from a distance, looking through a foggy lens at a stranger, who had no right to be there.

She could feel the eyes of the 'babies' staring through the one way glass, seeing into her soul. "He's getting away," they whispered. "You have nothing. Look at him, he knows it. You're letting him get away."

A strange movement at her side caused her to look down. Sara stared in wonder at her right hand, which tapped at the air in uneven tempo. Her brow creased in bewilderment, when had that started? She clenched it into a fist, digging nails her into the palm of her hand. At the back of her mind, she chastised herself, a perfectly balanced voice of reason that told her she was in trouble. Normal people didn't act this way, they didn't get drunk at work, didn't stay up for days on end chain drinking espresso until their head spun from the caffeine. Normal people spoke to friends about their problems, hell they had friends to talk to. They didn't look down to find their appendages moving independently from their body, or hear voices of girls long fallen to an early death.

And they certainly didn't stand in a darkened room, wondering how far they could get from the building once they had fired a bullet into a suspect's brain.

THIRTY TWO

Seventy-four. That's how many pages there were in Sara's file. Grissom knew this because he had counted them. An hour later, he still hadn't been able to bring himself to read a single one.

Seventy-four. That was about fifty too many for a law officer. Grissom pushed the folder forward on the table and leaned back on the sofa, closing his eyes. His thoughts fell back into the interrogation room, to the words he had pulled from a place that lived in all of earth's creatures, best left well alone. He had never been an aggressive man. Oh, he had his dark side, a well concealed temper that changed the colour of his eyes and kept even the crazy ones a step away. But as a general rule, he was a pacifist. Evil repulsed him, confused him. Sometimes he felt as though it were a being in itself, infecting any mortal it deemed apposite, and there were few strong enough to resist once the talons had taken hold. He had seen everyday people turn into monsters, angels into demons, love into hate.

Grissom felt it touch him in that room. As the words had spilled from his mouth, his thoughts had turned to her; Sara, always Sara. Part of him had understood, could actually accept that a man could love someone so much that the love had turned to hate. That the desire and need to be with another became so great that it was all consuming. To have that craving rejected… He recalled a passage from a long discarded text;

The H-Bomb is green

but the truth of it is black and white -

Indifference beat them all to hell.

He had been surprised by his own anger, the white hot fury that smouldered within his chest. But it wasn't towards Sara, even he realised that. The anger was reserved for himself. For his own cowardice. For the one who watched her suffering and couldn't bring himself to ask her a simple question.

Grissom pulled himself forward and snatched up the file, turning the first page with a heavy hand.

THIRTY THREE

The officer was more than pleased, two visits from a pretty brunette in one day, surely that meant an interest? He smiled as she approached him, giving her his best James Dean.

Sara narrowed her eyes, "Officer Turner right?" she asked. Of course she knew full well his name, she'd only read it from his tag a half hour ago.

"Yeah," he answered. "Hello again."

"Guess you drew the lucky straw," Sara snapped her phone closed and stuck it in her jacket. "Feds are comin' in. You're officially relieved." She grinned ruefully.

"The feds?" he seemed only slightly surprised. "Let me guess, just in time to take credit for all your hard work?"

"Something like that." She jutted her chin, "Listen if you want a coffee before you head back to the station, there's a break room down the hall.

Check the top shelf for the good stuff."

He swaggered a tad, "Care to join me?"

Sara flashed a smile would've knocked Grissom for six. "Wish I could," she answered, "but guess who's the new babysitter?"

Turner was only slightly deflated. "Well," he replied, "maybe next time?"

The smile turned mischievous, her head ducked slightly, eyes flashed.

Hook, line and sinker.

The door made a soft, click as Sara closed it behind her. Corbett looked up, hesitating only a moment. His lips drew into a delighted grin. "Well hello, Miss Sidle," he greeted. "How nice of you to stop by."

The amusement faded slightly as he caught her expression, his own faltering, though his voice remained disturbingly calm. "I don't think you're allowed in here, sweetheart. I've already asked to see my lawyer."

A small laugh escaped Sara's lips. She spoke softly, the words coming out just above a whisper. "Oh I don't think you're gonna need a lawyer," she told him.

Her eyes began to shimmer. "But I might."