By the time we step off the plane, Sara's face no longer looks so drawn. She looks refreshed from her sleep, and the death-glare that had appeared when I introduced her to Sharon is pretty much gone. I know better than to ask her why it appeared in the first place, though – at least here.

I'm incredibly glad that our flight landed at a New York airport and not Newark, way down in New Jersey. I don't think I could last through an two-hour-long ride at this point. I'm completely exhausted, the adrenaline rush from being so close to Sara having worn off, and I'm just about ready to lie down on the nearest patch of clear floor and take a nap.

"Grissom?" Sara's looking at me with a furrowed brow. "You ok over there? You're walking like a zombie."

I blink slowly, trying to make my eyes focus on her. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little tired. Past my bedtime, and all that."

"Well, I'm awake, so at least one of us is. It's what, three in the morning here? I don't think you'll be too out of place with the sleepiness thing."

I nod wordlessly and just look at her, waiting for her to lead me somewhere. I can't remember the last time I was this tired. I always knew that Sara saps a lot of my energy, but this is ridiculous!

"Gris." She takes my arm and tugs, which immediately brings my attention back. She's touching me again. Granted, it's a purposeful touch, but I'm not up to paying attention to such small details. "Come on, just walk and I'll lead you. When was the last time you slept, anyway?"

I feel like the tables have been turned – usually it's me asking her that question. It's appropriate, though. I don't plan on telling her this, but I hardly slept last night either, so I'm pretty much 0 for 48.

It's kind of nice to be taken care of, though, and I let her drag me through the terminal to retrieve our baggage, then outside to find a taxi. Taxis aren't exactly comfortable or sanitary to sleep in, and I struggle to stay awake until we reach our hotel.

By the time we get there, thirty minutes later, I'm just barely hanging on to consciousness. It's really a curious feeling, somewhat like the floating feeling one would get from marijuana or a lot of alcohol. The vague sense of euphoria that comes with those intoxicants has also come with my exhaustion, and I'm smiling vapidly as Sara checks us in and pulls me to the elevator.

I lean my head back against the paneling and ponder the sensation of our rapid ascent. Sara leans against the opposite wall and watches me in a way that, were I at full mental strength, would make me very worried. She looks like she's about to laugh at me, and I muster up a few shreds of dignity, straighten my back, and force my eyes open wider. She notices this and meets my eyes, giving me a small smile. I smile back and move my gaze to the numbers flicking above the elevator door. Are we there yet?

We stop on twenty-two and Sara informs me that this is our floor. I follow obediently down the hall. She stops in front of room 2208 and nods to the room next door, 2210. "That one's yours." She hands me my card key and gives me a gentle push toward my door. "I'll get your suitcase," she adds when I look back confusedly. "Work on making your hands function enough to open that door in the meantime."

She's right – I do have to work at it, but I eventually get the card in the slot correctly and pull it open. As I step inside, I take stock of the accommodations: it looks like an average to above-average sort of hotel room, complete with generic painting above the bed and plastic-wrapped glasses on the desk. The only thing that seems out of place is a door in the wall facing the bed, and I puzzle over that for a few seconds until I realize that – in some sort of cosmic joke – Sara and I have the adjoining rooms I daydreamed about this morning. I should probably be nervous about this, but that would take too much energy, so I just look at the door for a few more seconds and shake my head blankly.

Before I get a chance to disengage my eyes from it, the door knocks. Or rather, someone knocks on the door – but that thought comes a split second after the first. I really am dangerously tired, I realize. I hope we don't have to be at the workshop early tomorrow morning.

The door knocks again and I realize that I've been ignoring the fact that there's someone behind it. It takes me a few seconds to figure out how to work the three locks on it, but I eventually manage to pull it open.

Sara stands on the other side, once again studying me. "Still with us?" she chirps, waving a hand in front of my face. "Barely," she adds, answering her own question when I don't say anything after a few seconds. She grabs my wrist – her hands are freezing, I notice – and pulls. I'm beginning to feel like a dog on a leash. "Move, Grissom," she orders. "You have to come in here and get your suitcase, because it's heavy and I'm not going to waste my energy hauling it.

I allow her to pull me through the doorway. Her room looks exactly the same as mine, but reversed. This strikes me as amusing and I chuckle. Sara looks at me like I'm nuts. "Sit," she orders, pointing to the bed. "If you fall over, there's no way I'm going to be able to hoist you back into your room, especially not if you have a concussion from hitting the floor."

I sit and am immediately overtaken by the need to lie back on the soft bed, just for a few seconds. I glance at her and note that her back is turned and she appears to be doing something to my suitcase. Good, I can close my eyes. Just to rest them, of course – not to sleep or anything.

I open my eyes after what feels like moments and find an empty room. I look at the clock and discover that I've been out for half an hour. Where's Sara? I'm in her bed, I realize, feeling incredibly rude. Wherever she is, I should get out of here so she can go to sleep.

Standing up is a challenge, but I manage it eventually and stagger to the front door of her room. No, wait – there's something not right about that. I pause, thinking hard, and realize that I'm supposed to be going through another door. The bathroom door isn't the right one, I know that even if I'm still mostly unconscious, and I head for the third door in the room.

It's the one that connects my room to hers, I realize as I walk through it. Good for me, first step in the process of getting into my own bed is accomplished. Thankfully, once I cross the threshold it's a straight run from the door to the bed and I manage to keep myself from stumbling until I'm within comfortable falling distance of the mattress.

I hit the bed face-first and don't move for a second, gathering my will to climb under the covers. I'm not really awake to begin with, I realize, and unconsciousness is too close to even bother taking off my clothes. I just barely manage to kick off my shoes before I crawl under the undoubtedly dirty blanket and drop back to sleep.