Title: Bright Lights; Dig City Author: Jayke Manners

Category: Drama / Angst

Spoilers: Only received little part of season 5 in Aussie – so pretty much anything up to there…

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or it's Characters. Bummer.

Summary: Casefile / Angst / GS

Sorry for the delay in posting… again. I'm not sure, but I think this is where the story ends. I'm not really, really sure… am in a funny mood and have just written the thing and am posting it straight away, so perhaps it isn't the best. It's very brief, I don't know if it comes across hurried. I can rewrite it more descriptively if you think I should.

Let me know what you think ppl. I need guidance… Who knows I may pull the whole last chapter and do it again, I might continue, I might just stop. Hmm, am in an odd mood right now, can you tell?

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FORTY SIX

There were two moments that would stand out unlike any others in Gil Grissom's life. One, hadn't yet occurred. The other happened a split second before Sara's finger squeezed the trigger.

She died.

One moment, Sara was there – desperate, frightened, angry, only a sliver of the person she once was. But she was there. The next, it was as though a light switched off in her head and she shut down, fading to black. It was all the time Grissom needed.

His hand, only inches from her own instantly closed on the weapon, flicking on the safety and causing her finger to halt half way to its destination. She was slow to react, turning to look at the pistol in hazy confusion. The finger once again squeezed against the trigger, as if determination alone could change the truth. Her mouth opened slightly, a voiceless question, and as Grissom eased the weapon from her hand and her eyes returned to him, Sara was gone.

"No!" In a flash of fury, Corbett charged toward the pair, but didn't get two feet before he was grabbed either side and thrust face down onto the floor, the officers' snapping cuffs behind his back and pushing none to gentle knees against his legs. A few muffled cries were silenced by a swift yank to his feet, face pushed against the wall and a fast, "Shut up" by Brass. His monstrous rule ended as quickly as it had begun.

Grissom spoke to Sara softly, slowly placing the weapon behind his back. "Sara?" he whispered. "It's over. You hear me? This is over." He watched as the words drifted into her mind, floating around like a mist in winter. "Listen to me Sara," his voice was soft, yet commanding. "Go back to my office. Right now. Stay there and wait for me, I won't be long. Ok? Sara? Go on. Right now, go on back and wait."

She watched him for a moment, before instinct took over and she followed the order. She walked without wavering, her back straight, her steps even.

Brass watched her leave before turning to Grissom, he didn't like the calmness that had descended, it was unnatural. "Are we gonna have a problem here?" he asked.

"No," Grissom replied. Gil's face was vacant, unreadable. "No problem."

"Right." Brass sounded sarcastic, even to himself, as he grabbed the back of Corbett's shirt and practically threw him at the officers. "Get him out of here."

Corbett stumbled, face red with barely restrained fury as he hissed the words at the detective. "I'll get you for this. I'll have your badge. I'll have all of you fired. You think you can touch me now? I'll be out of here in twenty four hours."

Brass was coolly dismissive as he watched Corbett being pulled to the door. "I don't know what you're talking about. Nothing happened in here."

Corbett realised what Brass implied as he was half way out the door, he swung back to look at Grissom, voice trembling with anger. "I'll get her again you know," he yelled. "It's never over. It's never over."

The wall actually cracked against the onslaught as Corbett was hurled backwards, crushed into the plaster with a force neither man knew Grissom possessed. Corbett gurgled in surprise as hands closed over his throat, his eyes bulging wildly at the voice which whispered hellish promises in his ear. He saw glints of blue light, stars and moonbeams that danced in front of his eyes while a black curtain slowly lowered to his chest. But the expected never came. Once again his death scene was snatched from his grasp, a bolt of light breaking through the darkness as he felt the hands being pulled away, the voice in his ear fading as his vision slowly returned to normal.

In the end, Corbett decided the only way to get a job done was to do it oneself. The last memory that flickered through his deeply troubled head, as he dangled from the bed-sheet that night in lockup, was that of Gil Grissom, struggling in the vice like grip of Detective Brass.

FORTY SEVEN

She sat, silent.

Grissom halted in the doorway, momentarily surprised by the wreckage in his office. There was broken glass, papers strewn across the floor, not a chair was left standing. At least the couch was unscathed.

Unlike the girl who sat on it.

He remembered the last time he'd seen her sitting like this, elbows on knees, head bowed. Then, Grissom had offered her a ride. A ride home. But back then he hadn't known Sara didn't have one.

She didn't look up as he knelt in front of her. Didn't move her hands as he took them in his. Didn't answer as he whispered her name. He was about to lift her chin, to raise her face so he could look in her eyes and see if there was anything left at all, when her head slowly descended, brow resting quietly against his shoulder, breath soft against his neck and chest.

His hand came up and lay against her hair, softly stroking as he spoke into her ear, "It's ok Sara," he told her. "We'll think of something, all right? It's gonna be ok. It's gonna be ok."

For the moment, it was a nice thought.

If only either of them believed it was true.