Disclaimer: I don't own CSI.

Man, I've been really mean to Sara. I'm like thebully who gives a kid candy then takes it back, says they stole it, and beat the crap out of them. Not that I've ever done that literally. And to Wiccamage, sorry. My explanation is I was overdosing on Dr. Pepper and it was 3 in the morning and I can't promise I'll never have out of characterness again, but I'll try harder. Also, if anyone gets a chance they should watch Manhunter with William Petersen. Corny but awesome.

'Earlier today an explosion rocked an apartment complex. Police are not releasing more information other than it was not an accident and there are no suspects at this time. Surrounding apartments received major damage from smoke and fire. One man, who lived next door, was admitted to the hospital with second degree burns, but he should be released within a day or so. We'll bring you more information on this story tonight at nine.'

Warrick switched off the small TV set in the break room, turning to Nick, who was pouring a cup of coffee. "Give you two guesses what our assignment will be tonight."

"Hmm, let me see. Would it be where that twenty bucks you owe me is?" Nick chuckled and sat in the chair across from him.

"Me owe you? You cheated and we both know it." Warrick challenged good naturedly.

"I did not."

"You really expect me to believe that you accidentally jerked the controller out of my hand?"

"Do you want a rematch?"

"Let's go, man."

"Whoa, down boys. We got work to do." Catherine walked in with the assignment sheets.

Nick pointed to Warrick, "You lucked out and you still owe me."

He waved him off, "Yeah, yeah."

Catherine spoke to them as she started another pot of coffee. "I'm sure you two have both heard by now what happened to Sara's apartment. Bomb squad has confirmed that the area is stable, but with all the damage done by the fire and water, it's going to be a challenge gathering evidence. And don't worry Sara is fine. She's staying with Grissom until this all blows over. Okay? Let's go."

Her feet pounded against the pavement, her heart hammered inside her chest, and her lungs burned, sending a fire through out her entire body. But she couldn't stop. He was right behind her she felt it.

Her knees gave, careening her forward. Her hands hit the pavement, but didn't prevent her from slamming her forehead into the asphalt. She tried to stand except her legs could no longer carry her. She had to keep going though.

Suddenly, someone grabbed her shirt and pulled her backwards with enough force to rip the sleeves. He pulled her roughly against him.

"Now, now, Ms. Sidle. You weren't trying to escape were you?" Sara trembled and jerked her self side to side, but from the silent rage in his eyes it was obvious she wasn't going anywhere soon. And the only screaming she could do remained in her head.

"Sara. Sara. Sara!" Someone was shaking her. It was him. He'd come back for her.

"No, No. Let go of me!" She struggled against him, lashing out with her arms and legs, but he held her still, close to his chest.

"Sara, it's me; Grissom."

She fully awakened and stared up at him. Concern wrinkled his forehead. It was then that she remembered where she was and why. Grissom having an officer drive her car over, Catherine bringing her some clothes and a card from Lindsey, shower, guest room.

"What happened?" he asked.

She groaned and pushed away from the warm comfort of his arms. "It was just a dream." And before he could ask any more questions she quickly got untangled from the sheets and locked herself in the bathroom.

Grissom sat staring at the disordered bed-sheet and comforter, totally at a loss as to what his next move should be. It was obvious her dream had been more than a nightmare. But could he really expect her to share secrets when he hadn't so much as told her his favorite food in all the time he'd known her?

Sara watched herself in the mirror, feeling like a peeping-tom in her own skin. For the umpteenth time she counted her bruises as if she were one of the countless victims she'd seen on that examining table; A contusion near her hair line, slightly swollen, one on her right temple, split lip, a long patch of discoloration on her neck directly below her jaw. If she were to strip she'd see the marks on her wrist, arms, shoulders, torso, waist, thighs, calves, toes. Some of them were as small as pin pricks, others—most—noticeably the size of a fist.

Even she was surprised she was alive. At the moment, though, it was hard to believe it was something to be thankful for.

They had a couple hours before their shift started. So, while Grissom made a pot of spaghetti, Sara showered and dressed. Soon, they were both sitting at the table, with the only audible sounds coming from their utensils.

Finally Grissom spoke up, "Did you know that there are approximately 232 insect eggs in a jar of tomato sauce?"

Sara stopped, with a fork of noodles halfway to her mouth. Slowly she set it back on her plate. "Thanks, Griss."

"They're completely harmless. Heck, there are people who eat fried scorpions. I've never tried them, but mealworms in rice—"

"Could we possibly talk about something else?"

"What was your dream about?"

"I told you; nothing." Sara pushed back from the table. "Maybe we should go in early. You know see if—"

"Wait, I should probably tell you something."

Sara halted and waited for him to speak up.

He took a deep breath and plunged in.

Hmm... I wonder what he's going to tell her.