A/N: Sorry for the short chapter, but I have a lot to do tonight. I hope this holds you over until I can write again (probably tomorrow morning). Until then, remember, reviews are my best friends, and to all of you who reviewed, you made my day. Please keep them coming! Enjoy!
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Day 1
12:11 PM
It had only been about an hour since Grissom saw his chances with Sara slipping away, and decided to do something about it, when he found Catherine sitting at a computer screen aimlessly.
"You know," he said, startling her, "just because you keep staring at it doesn't mean anything will change."
"So, I guess that power nap you took helped make you a little more rational?" She had mandated he take a half hour power nap after he emerged from his office. Sleeping wouldn't even be close to describing his state as he lay on his couch staring at the ceiling, plotting ways to get Sara back.
"A little," he lied, and knew all too well she wouldn't buy it.
"Gil," she said, standing to be in front of him, "you're not going to be good to anyone, including Sara, dead on your feet. You need to sleep." Her voice was controlling, but utterly sympathetic for how he must feel.
"Yeah," he whispered, mind wandering to the times he hurt Sara, the times he shot her down, and he wished that he had just told her how he felt. He wished she knew. He wished she was there, right next to him, and that he wouldn't be driving himself insane trying to find out if she was even still breathing.
He needed a time-out in his life, a chance to breathe, but most of all, he needed Sara.
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It had taken Sara an hour to figure out how to use the grungy old map, but once she had, she was on her way again, much to her displeasure. She couldn't believe she was doing this. Leaving every one behind without telling them had been hard, and she kept thinking, in the back of her mind, that something was going wrong back at the lab. The nagging feeling that she couldn't get out of her head almost made her turn on her cell phone, just to give them an idea of where she was.
But every time she would pick it up, a part of her kept telling her that, for no better reason, Grissom should know how she felt every time he shot her down. And then the other part of her brain would tell her that she wasn't being irrational and that Grissom didn't deserve this, and… Oh God, she thought, I'm schizophrenic but at least I'm not lost anymore.
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