Grissom took a few steps slowly and set her down, not bothering to go the full length of the hall. Sara got right to work lifting the prints while he stared expectantly over her shoulder. She cast him one look over her shoulder and he backed up.

"Go make some tea. There's lemon zinger in the cupboard if you'd like something to drink."

"I'm fine. If you want something I can-"

Sara let out an epithet of frustration.

"Grissom, even these aren't defined enough. The treads are heavier, but still not heavy enough to match the treads from the Carpenter's hallway. There's still something missing." Sara swiveled on her heels from her crouched position and stared down her floor. "I don't get it. Helen Carpenter wasn't that heavy. The most she could have weighed was 140, tops."

"Come here." Grissom commanded, handing her a mug. "We need to step back for minute."

Accepting the mug graciously, she stood and followed him into the kitchen. As he sat himself down on one of her stools and inhaled the steam from the lemon tea, it struck Sara for the first time that evening how surreal this entire situation was. Resigning herself to it, she took the stool across from him on the other side of the counter and leaned over her own tea. There were no answers in the bottom of the mug.

"How did this happen?" Sara thought out loud. "How do you go from loving someone to killing them?"

"People change. Our suspect and our victim are not the same people they were when they married."

"What's our next move?" She asked.

"Take a break. Clear our heads. Think about something other than the puzzle."

Sara stared at him darkly.

"This isn't a genius crossword. We're working within a limited time frame." She reprimanded.

Grissom was quiet. He chose his next words carefully.

"Sara…" He paused. "Assuming you eventually move on and find another job, which you will, you're certainly capable-"

"Move on? From what?" She interrupted. Grissom detected a note of pain in her words and realized how his words sounded.

"I mean, from the lab. I don't imagine you'll stay in Las Vegas forever."

Sara pursed her lips and looked away. He waited until he thought it was safe to continue.

"I hope you know that there are more superiors like Ecklie than there are like me."

"Is this my evaluation?"

"I'd call it a word of caution. Sara, you have to learn to let go sometimes."

"Gil-" A look of surprise flashed across his face and Sara bit her lip and winced. "You've been telling me for five years now to let go. I know I have to; but I choose not to. It's a conscious decision I make to not give up easily."

"No one would think any less of you."

Somehow Sara's hand had left her own mug and was wrapped around his. The heat from the tea seeped through his hands and into her own.

"I don't care about anyone else. I care about how I feel and I care about what you think. Other than that…" Sara flashed a cavalier grin, but didn't finish the sentence.

Grissom was silent.

"Don't confuse your job with your life. When you get older…" Grissom searched for the right words while Sara bit her lip to keep from cutting him off. "I hope you have something you can look back on other than 'I worked for twenty years straight.'"

Sara laughed lightly. It surprised them both.

"I know that, to a point. Like I said, I just ignore it."

"You can't."

"If this foster care thing pans out-" Sara stopped at the grimace on Grissom's face. "What?" She asked defensively.

"Do you think you're prepared to handle everything that a foster child encompasses, Sara? Are you ready to be a parent, for all intent and purpose, to another human being?"

"I've been there, Grissom, I can't think of anyone more aptly suited to this than a veteran of the system."

"I think it's admirable." He offered. The tone of his voice told Sara everything.

"You don't think I can do it." She stated.

"I think foster children, by nature, are very complicated, you know better than anyone the needs and demands of these kids. I just hope you've really thought this out."

"Do you think I'm complicated?"

"Yes, very much so." Grissom admitted.

Sara laughed again, but this time there was a darkness to it.

"You are not allowed to do this to me Grissom."

He blanched.

"You can't direct the course of my life and issue edicts on how I should or shouldn't live. You cannot tell me in one breath to make my life meaningful and undermine the way I choose to do it in the next. You can't manipulate me like that."

"I don't manipulate you." He defended.

"Oh, my God!" She said sarcastically. "Egypt has a new king of Denial."

Grissom's face clouded over briefly and he looked away. Sara rose from her stool and tossed the remainder of her tea down the drain and leaned against the counter. She waited for Grissom to respond. He wasn't getting away this time, she decided. She had him cornered, for once. She had a sense of grim determination to see this conversation through once and for all.

"Cleopatra."

Sara stared at him in disbelief.

"I'm sorry, what?" was all she could manage.

"Mark Anthony received a gift from Egypt of a fine woven rug. Inside, Cleopatra had concealed herself and managed to get past the Roman guard without notice and proceeded to seduce Mark Anthony; thus effectively altering the course of Egyptian history for another thirty years."

Grissom crouched down and ran his finger along the floorboards.

"When was the last time you swept?" Grissom asked, following her trail of vision.

"Last weekend! Lay off!" She defended.

"I didn't mean it like that. Remember what you said about the evidence void?" He prompted. Sara rubbed her eyes with exhaustion. He bolted upright and nearly hit Sara's chin with the top of his head; she was standing so close.

"They had a rug." She pronounced.

"Very good."

"He rolled her up with the intention to dump her, gets as far as the kitchen and changes his mind."

Grissom stared at her in admiration.

"If we find the rug, we can prove he lied." She realized how narrow the odds were of finding it. "It can't be that far away."

Sara paced the kitchen; fatigue giving way to adrenaline. She dashed quickly down the hall and behind the bedroom door to throw on a pair of pants and grabbed her jacket from the table.

When she reemerged, Grissom had had his coat on and was waiting by the door.

"There's a creek and a park three blocks from here, people throw paint cans, beer bottles and their general trash in the ravine, its disgusting."

"It's close enough and convenient."

"Exactly."

They both dashed out the front door, breaking into a jog. It was nearly six thirty and the sun was breaking up over the dessert. Already the heat of the day was taking over the cold of the night. By the time they got to the ravine, Sara was sweating and exhilarated. Grissom hauled a camera out of his tool kit, which Sara hadn't even thought to bring. Sure enough, the posh Persian rug stood out amongst the trash. Grissom handed Sara a pair of gloves and they hauled the waterlogged piece of evidence up onto the bank. Sara grinned from ear to ear.

"Told you."

Grissom barely looked up from his camera.

"Even IA can't dismiss this if it holds up as the Carpenters."

"I remember there was a photo of Helen in the bedroom looking down the hall. I bet the rug was in the photo." She wagered.

"It's still circumstantial at best, but it should be enough to at least delay his departure."

Grissom flipped open his phone; prepared to make the call, but handed it to Sara.

"You're the one with friends in high places." He chided.

Sara's grin stretched from ear to ear as she waited impatiently for someone to pick up.

"Hello? This is CSI Sidle calling, can I speak with someone in change of the Carpenter investigation? Thanks."

Grissom hung back watching the exchange with admiration. She turned at caught his gaze and smiled when he winked at her. She'd survived another evaluation day…