Disclaimer: Dont own CSI. What I do own is a clumsy cat named Thomas GilGrissom the third. There was no one and two.

Sorry this update is so late. I've been crazy busy and with the server down or what not it's been hectic. So here you go. #3.

Papers haphazardly covered Grissom's desk as he tried to sort through them all. As soon as he put them where they were supposed to go, the letters on them would blur and change and he would have to go through them again.

This seemed to go on forever until another presence caught his attention. He looked up and there she stood. Fighting the impulse to run to her, he stood.

Sara smiled. "Do you want to have dinner with me?"

"No."

"Come on, let's go to dinner… see what happens."

His words seemed to come from a distance instead of from him. "I... don't know what to do about this."

One corner of her mouth fell, twisting her lips into a cynical smirk. "I do. And when you finally figure it out, you might be too late."

Her voice echoed and she started to slowly walk backwards into a cloud of darkness. Grissom repeatedly called out to her, but she only grinned and shook her head.

Too late.

Grissom awoke with a start. He looked at the clock on the wall of his office. 4:45. Sara had been gone for five hours. He frowned. Sleep wasn't something he had time for. When he realized he was mumbling, he bit his tongue.

He lowered his gaze to see Sofia in the doorway.

"How long have you been there?"

"Long enough. What were you too late for?"

"Nothing. It doesn't matter. Do you have something for me?"

She watched him closely, as a mongoose would watch a cobra, careful, calculating.

"Well, I ran the print Catherine found on a wineglass. We got a hit." Sofia was quiet for a moment.

"Look I don't have time for you to build suspense. You got a hit. Good. Who is it?"

"A Ms. Sara Sidle. One prior for DUI."

His brow creased. "That's not possible. Sara would never handle evidence without gloves."

Sofia lifted and dropped one shoulder. "How can you be so sure it got there while she was processing the scene? I mean, are you even 100 sure she was kidnapped?"

"Of course she was. I know Sara better than that. She wouldn't up and leave and not tell anyone." But Sofia had planted doubt in his heart. Could it be possible that he didn't know her as well as he thought?

"Maybe you should concentrate on the one thing that doesn't lie: the evidence."

As Grissom contemplated this new possibility, Sofia slipped out, a smug grin on her face.

Sara slowly came to, she was conscious of her face pressed against cold concrete. Her mouth was dry and her sight was blurred. She couldn't remember much of what happened, but with her arms bound behind her back and her ankles tied tightly she could guess. She had been kidnapped.

Inwardly, she kicked herself. Why had she let her self become overpowered? That wasn't her. She wasn't some weak, innocent, flower of a woman. No one ever got the better of her. Well, with the exception of Grissom.

Grissom was the only person to every completely get under her skin. Hadn't she learned that all men were good for was a broken heart? Even someone as trustworthy as an EMT had gone behind her back. She needed a man like a fish needed a Harley. Even if the fish new how to work the darn thing it's not like it was possible for it to use that knowledge.

Rage burned inside her. And as the embers grew her thoughts of escape were fueled. First she surveyed her surroundings. Sara was being held in some kind of storage shed. A lawn mower was pushed against the wall to her right, a tool chest to the left with a small paned window above. In front of her was a door with a deadbolt lock.

The wheels in her head began turning in time with her arms. Sara alternated pulling up one arm and pushing down the other, until finally they were free. Making quick work of the knot holding her ankles together and the tape across her mouth she stood.

The world titled for a moment, then straightened when she shook her head. Now, should she try to break the window and squeeze out? Or try breaking the lock on the door?

But she never had to make that choice. Right as she was about to search the drawers of the tool chest the lock turned. Her blood ran cold even as the door opened bringing with it a rush of hot air.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, Ms. Sidle. Attempting to escape are we?"

That voice. Where had she heard that voice? Sara was afraid to find out, but she had to. Slowly, she turned.

Her heart stopped. Her lips moved, but no sound came out. Then a fist like a rock hit the side of her face and she was down. A cloth again descended to her face, only no chloroform this time. He wanted her awake for whatever was going to happen next.

His fist came down on her again and again and all she could do was anticipate the nightmare that was soon to come.

He was making his way down the hall when someone called his name.

"Grissom! Can I talk to you for a sec?" It was Sheriff Mobley. Inwardly he groaned.

He stopped and turned. "I'm late for an autopsy, could you make this fast?"

"Yeah it'll only take a minute." Mobley blocked his escape route. "I need to know if this murder is going to be placed on a cop."

"We'll see."

The sheriff's smile froze. "Look, Gil. This has got to blow over as calmly as possible. No media, no press. Nothing. Last time a cop turned dirty the sheriff was out on his ass faster than you could say D.A."

"We'll see"

Grissom continued down the hall to the autopsy room before Mobley could say anything else. When he passed the lab, he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching him, but when he turned it was only him.

Shaking his head, Grissom entered the autopsy, where Doc Robbins standing over the dissected body of Julia Davis, writing notes down on a clipboard.

"What have you got for me Doc?"

Robbins stopped writing to look at him over the rim of his glasses. "Other than the fact that her lymph nodes are swollen, suggesting that she's recently had to fight off some kind of sickness, our girl was healthy. I took a blood sample and sent some of her stomach contents to tox to be safe. Now on to the reason you're here. Cause of death. Asphyxiation due to strangulation. The stab wound, caused by some slender tool, maybe a screwdriver, was made postmortem. Time of death was around 9:30."

"Which is around the time the husband called in. But what I don't get is why the husband was home if he was supposed to be working."

Grissom looked up at Doc, who was looking back. "Somewhere, something incredible is waiting to be known."