"Don't be absurd, Sara. You know I can't just drop everything and disappear to New Jersey," Grissom said later that day, wishing the phone he was holding were something he could afford to throw.

"Of course you can," she retorted. "You've got to have racked up, like, three whole years of vacation time in the time you've been in Vegas. All you have to do is use some of it."

"Whether I have the available time or not, I can't leave the lab on such short notice. Believe it or not, I do contribute to the work that's done here."

"I didn't say you don't, Gris. But you know Catherine is capable of handling things while you take a vacation. She'd die of happiness if you offered her the opportunity!"

Grissom grumbled something indecipherable. He didn't particularly relish being told that he was expendable despite his years of work in Las Vegas. "Fine," he said. "Maybe Catherine could take over. But that doesn't mean I want her to. I have cases open, Sara; I can't just leave!"

"Ok," Sara said, sensing victory, "first of all, I already talked to Cath and she's more than willing to cover for you. She's . . ."

"You called her?" Grissom asked indignantly. "You two just decided to leave me out of the loop and cook up a plan of your own that happens to involve using me as a pawn?"

"Chill out, Grissom. We're not 'cooking up' any 'plan." I just called her and asked if, in her opinion, you could take a week or two off there. She said it wouldn't be a problem on her end.  I'm trying to be helpful," she pointed out, "not trying to make you my pawn . . . although that would make for an interesting situation."

"And just how do you think you're helping me by springing this on me?"

Ah, yes, she could nearly taste the victory. "You aren't having any luck quitting over there, even though everyone, including yourself, wants you to. You seem to do better at it when you have access to me, therefore I'm bringing you out here so you have enough 'access' to kick the habit. Again."

"Don't rub it in," he said absently, sighing. "Sara, you know I'd like to come visit you, but I have responsibilities here, and I can't . . . besides," he interrupted himself, "there's no guarantee that if I spend the money to come out there, I'll come home a non-smoker again."

"Who said you were spending any money?"

". . .  Pardon me?"

"I'm the one who just got a bigshot job and a raise, right? I'll spring for it."

"Let me see if I have this right," Grissom said slowly. "You want me to take a vacation across the country and use you to help me quit smoking . . . and you also want to pay for it?"

"Uh-huh."

"Nuh-uh."

"Why not?" Sara asked. "It's not like I'm going to be asking for sexual favors in return or something!"

A moment of ringing silence followed that statement. "I mean, uh, it's not like I'm going to hold it over your head that I'm paying to bring you out here." Sara silently cursed herself, wondering why her subconscious had just decided to slip that comment in as though it wouldn't be noticed.

"Sara, I can't allow you to pay for me," Grissom said finally. "It wouldn't be right. Besides, just because you're being paid more doesn't mean you shouldn't be saving the excess."

"I don't want to save this particular excess. I want to use it for this. I'm not kidding, Grissom, this is what I want to do."

"I won't be party to a waste of your money like this. You have better uses for your money than me."

Sara groaned. "Look at it this way, Grissom. Either you accept it and come out here, or I'm going to bust the money on something far worse than you. Like cigarettes," she added as a sudden flash of inspiration hit her. "For myself."

"You wouldn't."

"I would. For real. Hey, if you're determined to go to smokers' hell, I might as well go with you, huh?"

"No!"

"Too bad, Gris. It's my money, and I'm going to use it how I like. You can either help me use it well, or force me to waste it."

"Sara . . ."

"Listen, I want to get some sleep. Either give me an answer now or forever hold your peace." She grinned hugely, knowing that she'd backed him into a corner he couldn't escape from.

Grissom sat back in his chair, trying to create a coherent thought. Hadn't he told Sara that he didn't think well when things were sprung on him with no warning? She knew he wouldn't be able to give her a well-thought-out answer this way. That was probably why she'd done it this way in the first place, the little sneak!

Not that she'd left him much choice anyway, even if he'd had a week to think about it. "You're serious," he tried again. "You're really going to start smoking again if I don't do what you want."

"Well," Sara said, "when you put it that way . . . yes! Give it up, Grissom. You have no choice but to come up here. Hey, I'll even see if there are any roach races going on in the area, ok?"

"Okay, fine," Grissom said in a defeated voice. "I can probably make room in my schedule for four or five days there, in maybe a week or two."

"Not happening. I am so not giving you that long to think of a way to get yourself out of this. You're coming on Monday."

"Monday? Okay, well, that's almost nine days, I guess I can get myself organized by then."

"No, Gris," she said, barely holding back her laughter, "not that Monday. This Monday. The day after tomorrow."

"There's no way I can do that!" he protested. "Like I told you, I have things, and cases, and stuff to do, and then there's the lab, I'd have to write out some plans for Catherine to follow before I go, and besides, it's impossible to book a flight with only two days' notice anymore . . ."

Sara said nothing, only listened to him run through his list of progressively weaker excuses. "Not a problem," she said when Grissom had finally run out of ideas. "You're already booked on a flight out here. I took care of it; all you have to do is dig out your passport and pack a bag."

"Sara!"

"Don't even try it, Grissom. Your 'boss' voice doesn't work on me anymore; you're not my boss, remember?" When Grissom didn't answer her, Sara sighed. "Ok listen. I just really want you to come out here, ok? I want to make sure you quit, and I want to see you. It's been almost three months. Please, just do what I'm asking you?"

She'd said "please," he thought. Sara never said "please" when she was already getting her way. "I suppose I could put everything together quickly," he acquiesced, disliking the thought of Sara having to beg him for something. "But please, let me pay for it."

"Uh-uh, Gris. My treat. Tell you what," Sara suggested, "I'll let you pay for dinner one night while you're here."

Grissom knew when he was defeated. "Okay, Sara, you win – this time. Tell me what you have planned for me."

*****

"What do you mean, you're 'going away for a while'?" Nick asked, staring at Grissom with wide eyes. "You never go away. And if you do, you make sure we all have six months notice and explicit orders."

Grissom looked up from the desk drawer he was searching. "Oh, come on, Nick. I'm not as bad as that. Last time I went away, if I recall correctly, there was nearly World War Three here because I didn't leave explicit instructions. Sara and Warrick were ready to kill each other, and I think you were getting close to killing both of them."

"Well, but still. You never go away! Come on," Nick prodded, "just tell me what's going on. I won't spread it around."

"No, Nick."

"Fine. I'll go ask Catherine." Nick turned and headed for the office door.

"She doesn't know either," Grissom said, fighting the urge to laugh at Nick's indignation. "And neither do Warrick, Greg, or Brass. I'm not telling anyone here, Nick, because I'm going on vacation, and I don't want to be bothered by the real world."

"It's not like we ever call you pointlessly anyway," Nick protested over his shoulder, still facing the door.

"You would if you knew where I'm going. You'd be curious. And that's all I'm going to say on the matter," Grissom added as Nick's face took on a crafty look.

"Fine," the younger man said huffily as he walked out.

As soon as Nick was gone, Grissom went back to searching his desk. He knew he had a thank-you card buried in there somewhere, he explicitly remembered buying it five years ago to give a friend. Needless to say, the friend had never received the card, and it should still have been in Grissom's desk.

"Whatcha looking for?" Catherine asked from the doorway, startling him.

"Geez, can't a man get any peace in his own office anymore?" Grissom grumbled, standing up to face her. "What do you need, Catherine?"

"Just wanted to see how you're making out on packing and everything. Since you're leaving in the morning and everything."

"I'm doing fine, thank you," he said shortly, then gave her an expectant look. "I'll talk to you in a week or two."

"Oh, that wasn't all I had to say," Catherine said brightly.

"Never is," Grissom said under his breath, sitting down to listen to whatever lecture she was about to give him.

"Hey, nothing big," Catherine said with a shrug. "I just wanted to see if you've got something to give Sara when you get there. A housewarming gift or something."

Grissom started. "What makes you think I'll be seeing Sara?"

"I talked to her, remember? I was part of the 'evil plot'?"

"Oh, right. That."

"Yeah. Well anyway, like I said, I wanted to check if you'd remembered to buy her something."

"Uh, no. Should I have? Is that the polite thing to do?"

"Um, yeah, Grissom. Man, I don't know how you got where you are without knowing stuff like this!"

"By being able to do my job, Catherine. No one cares if I know all the niceties as long as I solve the crimes that need to be solved."

"Yeah, well," Catherine said with a wry smile, "Sara's not a crime, at least not the last time I checked. Trust me, get her something. Not anything big, just a little something to let her know you're grateful. Or to make her think you're grateful, if you're still not."

"Oh," he said, feeling better, "I'm going to give her a card. That's what I'm looking for right now."

"A card's a good start, but you've got to have something besides a piece of paper," Catherine said sagely. Gesturing for him to follow her, she said, "Come on. I'll take you shopping. That way you'll know you're giving her something woman-approved."

Grissom wasn't terribly enthused at the idea of going shopping with Catherine, or anyone else for that matter, but he knew when to do as he was told. Slamming the drawer shut, he stood up and joined her in the doorway. "Let's buy a new card, too – I don't have the slightest clue where mine went."

"Good idea," Catherine said, giving him a pat on the head. "Let's go."