Flipping through the mail, Sara sat heavily on her bed.  It had been five weeks since she'd last seen Aeric and two weeks since she'd last received word from him.  The first three postcards and two letters filled her days with joy.  It was nice being thought of, but now, two weeks without a word and it worried her.  He could be hurt, he could just be really busy or… she didn't want to think that, but with her luck with men she couldn't ignore it.  He could just not be interested anymore.  Her heart sank.

                A tear escaped its boundary and trailed down her cheek.  She swiped it away with her hand and stood.  Still, she would hold hope in her heart and that she would still make her date with him that they had set for two weeks from today.  If he didn't show… it would be his loss.  It was time for work.  It seemed that, until then, work was all she had. 

                With her head held high, she left the confines of her apartment and went to the lab.  She'd made it with only ten minutes to spare.  Quickly, she unloaded her duffle bag and grabbed her ID and gun, then went to join the rest of her team in the break room.

                She'd just taken a seat when Grissom entered.  Without much small talk, he handed Nick and Warrick a slip, directing them, "Hit and run, should be pretty simple.  If you get time after handing in the evidence to the labs, find us at The Mirage."  Looking over at Sara and Catherine, he nodded for them to follow, "We have a DB and the press is already there."

                Grissom drove while Sara sat shotgun and Catherine was in the back.  Grissom had just related the few details he'd been given and all three were quietly dissecting it.   In a soft voice, he said, "Sara.  I got your time off slip for the twenty-ninth.  I don't think I'm going to be able to let you have it off.  Nick already asked for it and it's Catherine's scheduled night off."

                Sara turned from the window and stared at him.  That was the night she'd asked off to meet with Aeric.  She already had the following two nights off after that, but felt it would've been all right.  Hell, she'd worked all of that overtime the last couple of weeks.  Turning back to the window, she stared out at the passing lights of the Strip, unseeing.  Damn, what am I going to do?  She could try to ask Catherine to switch a night, but didn't feel that she would be amenable to it.

                Minutes later, they entered The Mirage and were immediately swarmed by reporters and photographers.  The Sheriff was present and he directed the awaiting officers to help them through the throng while he drew the press back to him.

                Grissom nodded at him and they followed the officer toward the elevator.

                It was another high profile case and Sara was beginning to feel that she was just along for the ride.  Catherine was already taking the lead, even over Grissom, by directing them to do certain work.  Her first words to Sara were, "Snap some photos of the crowds.  We can't depend on the security cameras with this many people around."  She did as she was told.

                While in the midst of photographing the crowd, she heard a voice from behind her ask, "Miss Sidle, is that you?"  She recognized the voice but couldn't quite place it.  As she turned around and came face to face with an elderly woman and her husband, she put two and two together.

                "Mr. and Mrs. Carnahan, hello, what brings you to Las Vegas?" she asked.

                "It is you.  I was just telling Henry that it must be you."

                "Yes, that she did."

                "Are you here because of the murder?"

                "Yes, yes I am."  Her shock at seeing the older couple was just starting to fade away as she asked again, "What are you doing in Las Vegas?"

                Mr. Carnahan looked pleased with himself, pushed out his chest and said, "My wife has an affiliation with gambling and I love to travel in foreign countries.  So, I compromised, two weeks in India for me and two weeks in Las Vegas for Frannie."

                Mrs. Carnahan looked to her husband with adoration.  "Isn't he the best?"

                Sara smiled a large gap-toothed grin at them.  They were an adorable couple that she and Aeric had met while in India.  They'd even shared several meals and one guided boat tour with them.

                "You know, you'll have to come back here when you've done your job.  We have some delightful photographs that we took of you and Aeric in Piyali and on the boat.  I had copies made, intending to send them to you."

                At that moment, Sara felt a hand on her elbow and she turned to stare in her boss' blue eyes.  "Sara we're going up."

                When she looked past him, she saw Catherine standing just behind him.  She wondered how long they had been there and how much they had heard.  The last thing she needed was questions about who Aeric was.  And if anything, she knew that Catherine would ask.

                They walked in silence to the elevator, where an officer was holding the doors open for them.  As the numbers climbed, taking them to their destination, Catherine glanced at Sara and asked, "So, friends of yours?"

                And so it begins.  "Yes, they are.  I met them while in India, a nice couple.  We had dinner with them several times."

                "We?" Catherine asked, an amused smile turning up the corners of her eyes.

                Damn.   How did I let that slip?

                The doors opened at that moment and they moved out, but not before Grissom shot her a quick glance.  She could almost see the glare behind it.  What was she supposed to do?  Allow him to keep playing the games that kept hurting her over and over?  No more.  She met his glare with wide guileless eyes and walked past him, following Catherine.

                While she sat in the layout room, she felt a presence beside her.  It wasn't Grissom.  She looked up and saw Catherine eyeing the clothing they'd gathered off the victim.  "Anything, yet?" she asked.

                Sara sighed.  It had been a long night.  A lot of evidence, but nothing to go on.  She leaned back in her chair and took off her gloves, throwing them on the table.  "No, nothing.  No hair, no fibers, and no prints or impressions."

                Catherine took the seat next to her, nearly sounding as defeated as Sara.  This case was going nowhere fast.  "Maybe we should get a fresh look at this tonight.  It's now two hours since shift ended."  She eyed her co-worker with a speculative eye.  "Care to grab a drink before heading home?"

                Sara stared at her moment, contemplating her invitation.  She knew Catherine was fishing for information.  But Sara wasn't up for it.  Catherine would just have to try and bait her another time.  "I don't think so.  I need to get home.  I have a few things to do before I can get some sleep."  She had a letter to write and send.

                Ten minutes later, she was in the locker room, closing the door to hers when Greg came rushing in.  He was hurrying as if he needed to get somewhere fast.  "Whoa, Greg.  What's the rush?" she asked, chuckling.

                "Hot date and I'm late."  He paused a moment.  "Hey, I'm a poet and didn't even know it."  They both shared a laugh at his rhyme.  Stopping in his hurry, he said, "Those were nice flowers you received."

                Sara looked at him as if he were speaking another language.  "What flowers?"

                "You know.  The ones you got the night you returned from vacation," he explained.

                "Oh.  Yes they were."  Her smile reappeared as she remembered them fondly.  She grabbed her duffle bag and walked past him.  She was about to say 'goodnight' when he said something that stopped her in her tracks.

                "Grissom really knows how to pick 'em, doesn't he?"

                She swung around, her duffle bag nearly slamming into one of the lockers.  "Excuse me?"

                "Well, you know.  Grissom has good taste.  Jasmine has a very intoxicating scent.  He –" Greg hesitated.  Something in her eyes told him he needed to stop before he got left behind altogether.

                "Greg, I don't know where you heard that Grissom gave me those flowers, but you, and they, are wrong."  She shook her head, "It would never occur to him to do such a thing."

                "Well, umm, I, uh…" he stammered.  He'd overheard Catherine, Nick and Warrick discussing the blooms.  It seemed like it was definite whom they came from.  "I just thought that since he'd sent you that plant a couple of years ago that he sent these also."

                Sara repositioned her bag on her shoulder again and then asked, "You think he sent those to me without being coached?"

                "Well, yeah."  Greg looked puzzled a moment and then his eyes enlarged as a thought came to him.  "He is an intelligent man."

                Sara huffed.  "Greg, he is a very intelligent man.  But like me, he's not socially adept.  I knew why I'd gotten the plant and it was a nice thought that he sent it.  However, the moment I got it, I knew it hadn't been his idea."  She turned to leave.  "Someone put it in his head to send it.  That much I'm sure of."  And she could say that, because she'd overheard Catherine tell Warrick, with much smugness, that she'd given Grissom the idea.  But she'd already made her decision to stay and taken back her leave slip, so she'd never said a word about it and the plant continued to flourish in her window.  She would always cherish it ­–he had sent it after all.

                Leaving Greg with that last thought, she left the lab and hurried home, but when she got there, she remembered that she was supposed to meet the Carnahans for breakfast.  It was a little diner she'd suggested to them before leaving the hotel earlier that night.

                She walked in and told the waitress who she was looking for.  The waitress nodded, andn escorted her to their table.  The older couple had vacated their booth to welcome her with hugs.  It almost brought tears to her eyes.  She'd only known them for a short time and yet it seemed as though they'd been life-long friends.

                They once again took their seats, but Mr. Carnahan sat with his wife now, giving up his seat for Sara.  With a flourish, Mrs. Carnahan wasted no time and presented a packet of photos to her.

                She pulled the pictures out and began flipping through them, keenly aware of their amused gaze.  She came across a picture of her and Aeric.  They were dancing.  It was a slow song, and he held her close.  The moment of his first words of endearment to her had been captured on film.  She remembered that moment all too vividly.

                But before the warmth she felt coming on reached her cheeks she shuffled the pictures back into a neat pile and laid them on the table.  It would not do for her to get caught up in her memories while the Carnahans were present.  She smiled sheepishly.  "Thank you.  You don't know what this means to me."

                Mr. Carnahan chuckled softly, "I think I do, my dear.  I just hope things didn't end for you back in India."

                Sara shook her head.  "No, we have plans to meet up in a couple of weeks.  I won't be able to meet him exactly when we had planned so I'm going to have to write him and let him know."

                "My, but that is a shame," Frannie exclaimed.  "Is work, once again, taking up all your time?"

                Sara explained, "I'm afraid so.  I'm not going to be able to take that night off.  Two of my other co-workers already have it off, leaving us short-handed."

                "Well, if anything, Aeric will understand.  In his line of work and his traveling, he knows what it's like not being able to make it on time, I'm sure," Henry soothed.

                "Yes, I'm sure he would," Sara agreed.

                But a niggling doubt remained at the back of her mind and wouldn't go away.  Would he actually be there?