Disclaimer: Trust me, if I owned them, this story would be on the tube, not on the Internet.

Day 1

8:26 AM

It was a cold morning in July when criminalist, Gil Grissom, heard his cell phone ring. The view from his condominium in Las Vegas revealed that the sun had risen hours ago, and he wondered who would be calling him now. Every one he knew, which included only the people he worked with at the lab and court offices, and quite a few dead people, were knowledgeable to the fact the he, and his team, worked the nightshift. He wouldn't expect any calls for another six hours or so. He looked up from his search to find one of his entomology books and picked it up. "Grissom," he answered.

"Gil, its Catherine," he heard on the other line. Catherine Willows, one of his long time friends and co-criminalist, sounded unlike her usually vivacious self.

"Good morning, Cath. Is something wrong?" Now he was worried. What could she be calling about? It couldn't be about work. She had just closed a double homicide that night and said she would be spending the day with her rambunctious thirteen-year-old daughter, Lindsey.

"Sara's missing," she answered as sobs ran down her cheeks. Six years ago, Grissom had called Sara Sidle, a friend he had known for a long time, to assist him in an internal affairs situation. Since then, she has worked side by side with Grissom and his team. Although their relationship had been puzzling, mystifying even, over the years, there had been no doubt in anyone's mind that the two socially inept pair had had a sort of bond that was in a way unexplainable.

Grissom had wondered for a long time what to do about this situation. Her feelings for him were obvious from the start, and, at times, he let his feelings show; but only for a short while before he closed up again. Whenever Sara would try to reach out to him, he had stood there like an idiot, just listening and not being able to tell her that…

"Gil! Don't you understand?" Catherine screamed at him. He was still standing in front of the bookshelf, mouth agape. "Sara's missing! Gil! Are you even there?" He was in awe of the events. A few hours ago, he had left the lab, noticing Sara sitting in front of a computer screen. Research, he thought, and left. Now he was wondering if leaving was such a good idea.

"I, I'm here, Catherine." His speech was slurred, impaired by his shock. It was then that he noticed that Catherine had hung up. He sat down in his chair, put his phone on the table, and just sat, gazing at the blaring sun through the window. He heard a knock on the door, and, believing it was Sara, ran to answer it.

He was disappointed to find that it was only Catherine. "Oh, hi," was his only greeting, and he went back to sitting in his chair.

"Gil Grissom!" She picked him up by the collar and stood him in front of her. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I believe I was contemplating my life. And you?"

Catherine did not appreciate his stark reply. "Weren't you listening to me on the phone? Sara is missing! Get up and do something."

"What can we do, Catherine? I trust you've called everybody note worthy, and I haven't believed in magic since I was four. So excuse me, but I am rather upset and do not wish to be beaten with meaningless antics!"

"We have to go out and find her!"

"Do you know the odds of finding her? Do you? Slim to none, Catherine. Slim to none!" With that, he sat back into his chair, resting his head in his hands.

Catherine backed down. She had no idea what he must have been going through, and decided to just sit in the chair next to him. "Grissom, you know how you always tell us to never get ahead of the evidence?" Grissom picked his head up in curiosity, and slowly nodded. He knew what she was getting at. He stood up, extended his hand towards her and nodded again. Catherine looked up and smiled, and placed her hand in his.

They walked out the door, and as Grissom turned to lock it, he remembered last night, with him and Sara at a crime scene they had been investigating.

"Have I ever told you a story my mother used to tell me as a little girl?" the young brunette asked as she fingerprinted a broken table.

"No, you haven't. Would you care to share?" Grissom inquired.

Sara took a deep breath. She had shared her family's secret with him months before, having broken down crying right in front of him. She trusted him with her life, and wished only that he trusted her, too. She began the story.

"She used to tell me, 'There once was a beautiful princess named Lily, who, when she was very young, wished to have a prince to call her own. One day, many, many years later, she found him. They fell in love, and had a beautiful daughter named, Samantha. However, one day, the prince found a berry that he liked very, very much. The only problem with that berry was that it made him very mean when he drank its juice. The princess found out and tried to stop him, but it only caused him to be more mean. One day, when he had a lot of the berries, he hit the princess. Samantha had seen this happen, and ran to help her mommy. Lily told her that they were just playing a game, and when Samantha asked if she could join, Lily told her that it was just for grownups. That year, Samantha watched her mommy and daddy play this game many times. And when Samantha asked if she could play, Lily would always tell her just to go to her room.' Then she would say, 'And what is the moral of this?' and I would always reply, 'Don't get in the way of grownups.' She would always pat me on the back, saying that I was right, and then kissed me goodnight."

During the story, Sara had stopped dusting and just sat next to the table. "I didn't know it at the time," she said, "but my mother was really telling a story of our family. She was trying to keep me out harms way." She looked up at Grissom, tears in her eyes, about to fall, and told him, "So much for that." She quickly broke and walked swiftly out of the room. Grissom ineptly continued to stand there, not knowing what to do, or if he should do anything.

It was now that Grissom realized the time to do something was then, listening to her sobs through the closed door. He wished he had done something then, and realized now that it might have kept them out of this excruciating predicament.

"Grissom! Come on! I've called Brass. He's going to meet us at the station." Jim Brass, captain of the Las Vegas Police Department and a friend of Grissom's, was never one to be subtle about anything. Grissom knew he would get a piece of his friends mind soon enough.

8:43 AM

Jim, Catherine, and Grissom all stood outside the police station, waiting for co-criminalists and friends Nick Stokes, Warrick Brown, and Greg Sanders. When Grissom had called, the three had been on a case he had assigned them, only a few miles from the station. They would be there any minute, and Grissom tried his best to wipe his tear-stained face.

Nick had answered the phone, and when Grissom told them what was going on, Nick didn't even bother saying goodbye. He knew it would only hinder their chances of finding Sara.

Not a minute after Grissom had completely dried his face, the group noticed the government issued Yukon pull into the station's parking lot, and three very worried men were quick to jump out of it, barely taking the time to turn it off.

"Yo, Griss, what's going on?" came Warrick's voice has he approached the already growing group of people. "Nick said something about Sara being missing? That true?"

Grissom, at this point, was incapable of answering, and, noticing this, Catherine took over. "She was there when I left the lab this morning, so I called her wondering about some evidence, and she didn't answer. And her answering machine didn't pick up so, her phone's probably off."

"So no way of tracking her cell," said Nick, talking more to himself than to anyone else in particular.

"Did you try her house?" Greg asked, speaking his first words since he heard the news. Sara had always been a little more than a friend to him, even if she didn't reciprocate these feelings.

"Yeah," Jim answered. "No answer, so I headed over there. No answer from the inside."

"And she didn't request a leave for today, this week, this month?" Warrick asked Grissom, knowing he forgets these types of things easily.

For the first time since he called Nick, Grissom answered, "No." Simple, yes, but that was all he could get out at the moment. Warrick understood. Sara was like a sister to him, but he knew she meant so much more to Grissom, even if he didn't want to admit it.

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Meanwhile, Sara was on her way to Santa Monica, Evanescence blasting on the stereo. She was on a long emotional journey, one she began twenty-one years ago. One that would never end. But she knew a way to confront it, a way to embrace it, to control it and not let it control her. She was out to see the one who caused her so much pain and anguish; the one who once tried to protect her from it all. The one she thought she could trust not to hurt her. And in a way, she was never hurt, physically. Her mother made sure of that.

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9:01 AM

"So what have we got, Jim," Catherine asked as they made their way into the conference room of the Las Vegas Police Station.

"She's not picking up any of her phones," Brass began, "and she wasn't scheduled for a leave any time soon, if at all." Their workaholic friend almost never took a leave, only using her mandatory days off because of excess overtime to revisit cold cases- the ones that got away.

Before anyone could say anything, Jim cut in again. "When I went over to see if she was home, I noticed her car wasn't there. And I may just be a cop, but I am capable of deduction skills." His attempt at a joke went unnoticed. "Anyway, I don't think she was kidnapped."

"What, she just ran away?" Nick asked, surprised at his friends supposed actions.

"I'm not saying that, I'm just saying that she most likely left of her own free will."

Meanwhile, throughout the conversation, Grissom was sitting at the end of the table, whiskered chin in hand. "Maybe not, Jim," he exclaimed, eyes still focused on a very interesting spot on the table as they other five turned to him.

"What are you getting at, Grissom?" Catherine asked, perplexed. "If she took her own car, how could she not do that by herself?"

"Kidnapper could have taken her keys with him and drove off with her, possibly restrained in some way." He finally looked up, eyeing Brass and Catherine. "We can't rule anything out."

"Plus," Nick added, "It's not like Sara just to leave and not tell anyone." They all nodded in agreement, except Grissom.

"Unless she didn't want us to know where she was going," he stated matter-of-factly. The group mulled over this for a moment, contemplating where Sara would go that she wouldn't want the rest of them to know about

"A boyfriend, maybe?" Greg asked, receiving a glare from Grissom, and quickly shut up.

"I don't think so," Nick said, hoping to relieve some of Grissom's pressure. "I mean, she didn't tell me everything, but when she was seeing that guy, Hank, I think his name was, I did see a noticeable difference in her attitude. And after whatever happened between them, I haven't seen her the same since." Grissom cringed at the mention of Hank's name. He knew it wasn't fair to Sara to keep her for himself if he didn't give her anything in return, and knew that Sara did need a life. Never the less, he was still as a jealous as ever to learn of her relationship, and completely furious when Catherine told him about Hank's cheating on Sara. It pained him to think of Sara in that kind of situation, but one he could do nothing about.

Grissom was knocked out of his reverie when he realized Catherine was trying to get his attention. "Yes?"

"I was saying that we should get back to the lab. If she took her car, she took her GPS system."

This was enough for Grissom to shoot from his chair toward the parking lot, berating himself for not thinking of that before. He was gone before the rest of the team got out of the building, all heading for Nick's car, hoping to soon find the answers they were looking for.

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Sara was only half way there when she noticed her gas gauge almost empty. She pulled into a lonely gas station, and as the tank was filling, she contemplated her motives for leaving her friends and going to the one place she dreaded; the place where so many bad memories had taken place. The place where she felt safest. Great, she thought, now I'm schizophrenic.

Her parents' old bed and breakfast was nothing close to being fancy, but not a run down shack like some of the others in the area were. Actually, it was pretty well kept, tangibility wise. The occupants were another story altogether.

Sara's thoughts were interrupted when the familiar click of the gas pump told her she could begin her journey again, and she almost didn't take the nozzle out of the car, for fear she would actually have to complete her drive.

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