Grissom stared at the cast-off on the wall.

He ran through his options for the tenth time, but the conclusion remained the same.

Sophia was tied up with a string of rapes just north of town. Greg was only a CSI 1, he was dealing with trick rolls and B & Es and he needed that experience. Grissom couldn't solo, because he was due in court in a few hours. It was a complicated murder and he had to be the one to explain the entomological timeline.

He was going to have to let Sara work this one. He sighed.

Well, she was going to have to learn to distance herself. He'd been telling her that for years. Sara was a brilliant investigator, but far too emotional.

You know that's not true anymore. Not lately.

Sara's recent calm worried him almost as much as the times she did lose control.

Grissom had a crime scene to work; he approached the bed carefully, stepping around the pooled blood on the floor. He wished the paramedics had been as careful. It would be a nuisance, eliminating all these extra footprints.

"Well, it doesn't get much more open and shut, does it, Gil?"

Grissom refused to be startled. Let Brass think he had known he was there.

"Nothing is ever open and shut. We still have to analyze the evidence. She'll plead self-defense."

"The vic was in bed, asleep. Self defense could be a tough sell."

"What's a tough sell? Sorry I'm late. Hi, Jim. Grissom." Sara had arrived.

She stopped in the doorway, absorbing the scene: the bloodied bedclothes, the spatter on the wall, the smell of blood and vomit in the air. Grissom felt himself flinch. He hoped it didn't show.

Brass filled her in: "Victim is Roger Atkinson, he's still in surgery at Desert Palm, but it looks good, actually. The girlfriend, Kirsten Andersen, is in custody downstairs. You'll need to process her. She called 911, confessed to stabbing him right then. Sounded panicked. She hasn't said much since we got here."

Brass was watching Sara closely as he spoke. Grissom wondered why. Brass didn't know about her parents. They'd seemed closer lately, but it had taken Sara eight years to confide in him, she surely wouldn't have told Brass.

"Andersen and Atkinson? Nice."

Well, that wasn't the response he had expected. Grissom raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"It's just… funny. Never mind. I need more sleep. How do you want to do this, Griss?"

I want to get you out of here.

"I'd like you to get shoeprints from the EMTs, and process the girlfriend."

"Wouldn't it make more sense for me to work in here? You have court, remember." Why is she being stubborn about this?

"Not for hours. I'd like a woman to process her, anyway."

"Fine." She turned and left the room without a backward glance. Brass watched her go, then glared at Grissom accusingly.

What did I do now?

Sara burst back into the bedroom in full crusader mode, Brass at her heels.

Grissom looked up. He had just finished his swabs, and was preparing to bag the sheets.

"Get anything from the girlfriend?"

"She says she did it, and she's sorry. She wants to know if he will be okay. She says she just snapped. Nothing set her off. She's lying. She's hiding something and I know what it is."

He waited.

"He was attacking her, Grissom. She has bruises everywhere, I'm sure when we pull her medical records we'll find evidence of abuse."

"I'm sure you're right, but she stabbed him in bed. Battered Woman Syndrome can be tough to present to a jury."

"No, he was attacking her tonight when she stabbed him. You should have heard her down there, she's completely remorseful. She called 911 right away, before he had time to bleed out."

"He was in bed."

"He was assaulting her. She won't admit it but it's true. 7.7 of U.S. women report having been raped by an intimate partner. 45.9 of women who reported physical abuse also reported being forced into sex by their partners. The evidence will support it. I want to take her to the hospital, run a rape kit."

Brass was staring at Sara again. He must be used to her statistics by now. What is wrong with him lately?

"Cite your source," he challenged teasingly.

She didn't smile.

"The 7.7 came from the National Violence Against Women Survey, Department of Justice, 2000. The 45.9 came from "Forced Sex and Intimate Partner Violence: Effects on Women's Risk and Women's Health, Violence Against Women, 1999. I forget the page numbers. Grissom, she stabbed him with a letter opener, right?"

He nodded.

"There are plenty of knives in the kitchen. Big, sharp, negative for blood. I found a gun in an upper cabinet. The letter opener wasn't an ideal weapon, given her options. It must have been on the bedside table. She was in bed, he assaulted her, and she grabbed the closest object. If it hadn't been such a sharp letter opener we might not be having this discussion."

"Sounds like a theory. Run with it."

Finally, she smiled. At Brass. Who was staring at the bed now, lost in thought.

"Sara?" Brass was still looking at the bed.

"Yeah, Jim?" She sounded nervous. Grissom wondered why.

"I just got The Maltese Falcon on DVD. Come by my place after shift?"

"I might be busy…"

"Please? It would mean a lot to me."

"I'll be there."

Sara went back downstairs, heading for the hospital and the rape kit. Brass shuffled around for a moment, staring at the bed.

"Did I miss something?" Grissom asked. Did you just ask Sara out? No, of course not. What is going on with you?

"What? No. I was just… considering the evidence."