Last Chance Chapter 8 R version

by hazeleyes571

The original Last Chance was removed and is not available here.This is the one suitable for ffnet, but is a continuation of that story and tells you where to find the rest.FINISHED AT LAST!

13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: Not mine, more's the pity. Any song lyrics included here are under copyright by their original owners and no infringement is intended.

Title: Last Chance

Author: hazeleyes57

A/N : Sorry, still a WIP. Getting there, honestly.

Rating: R (no raunchy version this time, didn't seem the right thing to do :-) )

Last Chance; chapter 21

Grissom gradually surfaced from deep sleep. For several moments he lay staring blankly at the ceiling, wondering for a split second what day it was. He turned his head to the left to look at his alarm clock and the large red numbers silently informed him that it was four twenty in the afternoon. He rubbed a hand over his face to wake himself up a little more thoroughly.

Reality filtered back into Grissom's consciousness and he frowned, closing his eyes with relief. He had not yet been found out. His guilty conscious must be bothering him if he was starting to dream about Sara finding out that his memory had been restored.

It was ridiculous, but the longer he left it, the more difficult he found it to tell Sara the truth. She - quite rightly - would want to know why he hadn't told her the day it happened. No one else knew yet, not even Catherine, despite her being present when he had collapsed. God, what a mess. He had just been so relieved to find Sara was alive and well after the shooting that his own success seemed immaterial.

It had to stop. Regardless of the cost – and it might be a high one – he had to tell Sara the truth. Enough was enough. Nor was he going to hide his relationship with Sara any longer. He was going to inform his employer about his change of marital status. Sara's misguided desire to prevent their careers from suffering meant the both of them were investing too much energy in keeping up a pretense.

His mind made up, Grissom didn't exactly spring out of bed, but he got up with purpose. He put coffee on to filter and went to take a shower.

Grissom smiled as the water sprayed over him, unable to think of showering now without picturing Sara with him. He remembered the many enjoyed up at the cabin too. He would have to take Sara up there again before too long, their last opportunity before the baby arrived. She would probably find the hot tub very relaxing and supportive of her few extra pounds. Not that he would mention anything about weight. The pregnancy book he was reading mentioned that women were often sensitive about their extra weight despite the valid reason for its presence. The whole subject was a minefield.

Grissom stepped out of the shower and picked up his watch, wondering what time Sara and his mother would be back from their shopping expedition. As Sara was not due to work this evening, she had taken his mother out to have a look at 'things' for the baby. The two women were ideally matched, one pregnant and one in a walking cast. It would be a suitably slow trip.

As he had no real idea when the women would be back, Grissom prepared a vegetarian bolognaise to go with fresh spaghetti, and cooked one portion of the fresh pasta for himself. It only took two minutes and he could prepare more for the others as soon as they got back. He threw a quick salad together and put two thirds of it in an airtight container after he had taken some for himself.

By the time the fragrant sauce was ready, there was no sign of Sara and his mother so Grissom ate alone.

Somehow it seemed a lot lonelier than when he lived by himself.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sara absently fingered her gold necklace with one hand while she waited for the bathtub to fill. The warm scented water was thick with bubbles and Sara used her free hand to swirl the water to distribute the foam more evenly. Her face was thoughtful, even a little sombre. She sighed heavily, or tried to. The baby made it difficult to take a deep breath; there just wasn't the room.

Sara stood up from her seated position on the side of the tub and turned off the faucets. The sudden quiet was unnerving; she hadn't realised how noisy the running water had been. She hoped that Mary hadn't been disturbed by it; her mother in law had retired to bed early after their exhausting shopping trip.

Sara returned to the bedroom, undressed and slipped on her robe. As she turned to go back to the bathroom she heard paper crinkle in the robe's pocket. She pulled it out, smoothing the well-worn piece of paper. It was the note Grissom had left for her during their first attempt to get her pregnant. She read the already memorised words again. Grace under pressure.

She didn't feel graceful; she didn't know how she really felt. Confused, maybe. But she was under pressure. Mary's inadvertent revelation that her son had been able to give her more details about their wedding than Sara had given him made her question other things. It was a matter of trust and openness; he had promised her that there would be no more secrets. While it was certainly within his character to be capable of playing his cards so close to his chest that even he couldn't see them, this was another matter entirely. Grissom hadn't lied exactly, because she had not asked him outright if his memory had returned, but he had lied by omission. It begged the question; what else had he lied about?

This uncertainty came at just about the worst time for Sara. As her due date came closer she had started getting moments of, well, panic seemed too strong a word, but certainly periods of anxiety where she questioned her ability to be a good mother. It wasn't even as if she had a good foundation laid down by her own parents. Motherhood was not a short-term project that she could have a stab at, then leave unfinished at the back of a closet if she found she had no talent for it. It was a lifelong commitment, not just until the baby made it to eighteen, or twenty-one. She would still worry and fret when this baby was an adult and perhaps a parent themselves. She could be a grandma by her mid fifties. Would she be better at that, one step removed…?

Sara tutted and cut the thought off as she stood in the middle of the room where she shared her most personal and vulnerable moments with Grissom. The internal dialogue was not helping and her hot soak was still waiting. She tried to dismiss her concerns as she re-entered the bathroom and closed the door. Most women probably had moments during their pregnancies where they had doubts about their parenting abilities. Sara gave another shallow sigh as she dropped her robe to the floor beside the tub and stepped carefully into the bubble-strewn water. She hadn't made it too hot and after a few moments while she adjusted to the temperature, she lay back and rested her head on the waterproof pillow.

She closed her eyes and made herself relax. Her mind drifted over various ways to confront Grissom about his memory, or better yet, get him to confess first.

Sara was not consciously aware that she had again taken hold of the two wedding bands looped on her necklace. When she realised what she was doing she examined the smaller of the two plain gold bands, then the larger one. She angled Grissom's band until the light enabled her to read the inscription engraved on the inside, a duplicate of her own.

My glimpse of Heaven.

She smiled softly as she remembered Gil showing her the bands. He had been so pleased with himself finding someone at such short notice that was capable of doing the intricate work required on both of the bands. When Sara had asked if the words were from a quote Grissom had nodded;

"To love is to receive a glimpse of Heaven."

They had been standing in front of the large window of the main room at the cabin; the spectacular views a sharp contrast to the intimacy of the moment. Later, after they had made love, Grissom had held her as if she were the most precious thing in the whole world.

Sara felt the sting of tears as she lay in the tub. She wiped them away with a wet hand, making her face even more wet. It added irritation to her unhappiness and found herself muttering under her breath in less than flattering terms about her hormones. She wished that she could talk to Gil right now, so that he could reassure her that this was all perfectly normal and the wildly swinging emotions would settle eventually. Then she remembered all over again that her Gil was here but that he had chosen not to tell her, and that set her off again.

Bizarrely she suddenly thought how grateful she was that she wasn't an elephant. They were pregnant for a lot longer than nine months. Sara's silent sobs turned to hiccups of thwarted laughter. The baby let her know that she was not alone by kicking a rib.

After twenty minutes of physical relaxation but mental gymnastics, Sara came to the decision that she was not going to tell Grissom that she suspected his memory had returned. There was the tiniest possibility that it had not returned in its entirety. Maybe this had been memory seepage and he had just remembered the odd piece here and there.

It was difficult not to go to his office and demand the truth. She was still angry and thought that in her current volatile state it was best to avoid a confrontation. She had told Grissom before the whole 'Miami' thing that he should trust her, now it was her turn to trust him. She would wait for him to tell her.

Sara sat up and reached for the washcloth. She missed the buoyancy afforded by the water and was left feeling heavier than when she got in tub. She was very tempted to stay where she was. For weeks.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Something was wrong.

Grissom couldn't put his finger on whatever it was, but something was definitely not right. It had started shortly before he had told Sara that he was going to let the 'powers that be' at work know about the two of them. She had told him in no uncertain terms that she thought it was a terrible idea and insisted that he not say anything. Her reaction had surprised and concerned him, but he agreed to wait a little longer. But now he was certain that something else was upsetting her. Grissom wondered if Sara might have said anything about whatever was distressing her to his mother, but he dismissed that idea as totally out of character.

Conversely, his mother seemed in fine spirits; she had enjoyed visiting with them but had not stayed longer than a week. He had driven her back to Santa Monica and ensured that she had everything that she needed before driving back the same day. It was a long day's drive, but Grissom wanted to get back to Sara and find out what was going on. Or not going on.

Sara appeared to have got on well with his mother, she was her usual self at work, the work dynamic still as it was before between them, if one discounted the enforced distance required during working hours. Her working relationships with the other members of the shift didn't appear to have altered either.

But when the two of them got back to the townhouse there was a difference. It was subtle and a year ago Grissom probably would not have noticed it at all, but being with Sara had altered his perceptions about many things including – as his mother had noticed – his ability to relate to others.

Grissom could only describe it as a measure of reserve. On the surface things were the same; they still laughed together, still talked about the baby, still went to baby classes together and still made love – albeit more carefully as Sara's size increased – but there was this lack of 'something'. It reminded of when he first realised that he was going deaf. The inability to hear distanced him mentally, but also physically, because he couldn't discern the subtle nuances of speech. Sara was holding part of herself back. There was a definite layer of something between the two of them now, but when he asked her if anything was wrong she had just given him her usual megawatt smile and told him that everything was fine.

It did not escape his notice that she had said 'everything' was fine.

She didn't say that she was fine.

As was the pattern of his past, Grissom took Sara at her word but let his fears sit at the back of his mind. He tried not to let them influence his behaviour towards Sara, but the effort he made to remain unchanged by his thoughts did alter the way he behaved.

Sara, already feeling ultra sensitive about the changes wrought by the pregnancy and her insecurity about her maternal capabilities, immediately picked up on her husband's new edginess, assumed that he was feeling crowded both physically and emotionally and tried to step back to 'give him some space'.

Grissom immediately noticed Sara's withdrawal. His fears moved from the back of his brain to the front and married life lost some of its glow. He tried to give Sara some space.

It was during one of his efforts to get Warrick to partner Sara on a case – when it was obvious that Grissom would have been a far more suitable candidate – that Catherine finally asked to see Grissom in his office.

The feisty redhead had closed the office door behind the two of them and looked at Grissom until he had eventually had to ask her if there was a problem.

She had given him a look that said 'you're my friend and my colleague, so listen up'.

"You know, I was just going to ask you the same question. Naturally you are going to deny that there is a problem, and I could counter with some witty repartee or pithy wisdom. But I won't. All I'm saying on the matter is don't let your professional judgement be compromised by your private life…"

Catherine quickly held up her hand to stave off Grissom's automatic protest.

"…and to say how pleased I am that you finally have a private life. But the crunch of eggshells underfoot around here is getting tiresome. You need to straighten a few things out and so does Sara."

Catherine ignored the start of surprise that Grissom was not able to hide, and her voice softened.

"Try to remember that she is going through something that will change her whole life. How she looks at herself, how she looks at others and how they relate to her. How she relates to others. Her priorities will change, she has little choice. But she needs a constant in her life, some touchstone that will keep her grounded, give her a measure of security. Someone that cares enough to be there for her. Talk to her Gill, but remember to listen."

There was a long moment of silence as Grissom absorbed what Catherine had said. None of it came as a surprise; he knew the truth of it. What appalled him was how far things had slipped since the trip to the cabin. The comfortable ease between him and Sara was missing and he blamed himself. It was up to him to do something about it. He looked up at Catherine.

"You work with Warrick. I'll go with Sara."

Catherine nodded, an acknowledgement that he had taken her advice on board.

About damn time.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"You haven't forgotten tomorrow?"

Sara looked up at Catherine as the latter stuck her head into the Trace Lab. Sara straightened up with care and shifted to ease her back. Six weeks to go until 'B' day and it was her last day – or night – at work for now.

"No I haven't forgotten. Eleven your place, look surprised. Got it."

Catherine grinned.

"Cool."

Sara smiled in acknowledgement as Catherine backed out. Greg looked over at Sara, his puzzlement obvious.

"Tomorrow?"

"Surprise baby shower."

"Not a surprise then?"

"Can't stand the shock. Bad for me. Bad for Catherine if I get one."

Greg smirked as he picked up the still-warm printout from the mass spec. and glanced at it before handing it over to Sara. He looked very 'cat has got the cream'.

"No surprises here either. Looks like we have the car lot rapist in custody."

"Yay!"

The two of them high-five'd and Sara was pleased to be present when the last piece of evidence had checked out. She would be leaving on a good note. She tried to keep her smile from slipping when she realised that this was her last case for some while. Sara handed the sheet back to Greg.

"Here, you go tell Grissom. It was your case too."

Greg looked at her, unsurprised at her generosity. He smiled gently, picking up her subtle distress.

"Only if you come with me. After all, it is Grissom. I may need protection."

Greg gave a full body shiver and pretended to be terrified. Sara feigned exasperation.

"Oh, come on then, chicken."

They discovered that Catherine and Nick were already talking to Grissom when they got to his office, and Greg made a move to turn away.

Grissom glanced up briefly before he resumed patting papers and moving files on his desk, searching for a pen that he had just put down.

"It's okay, we're nearly done here. Come on in."

Greg looked at Sara and she shrugged minutely. They entered the office.

Catherine turned back to Grissom again.

"Just one more thing. The court date for your case involving the four college boys who were joy riding and hit the driver changing his tire had been moved up to the week after next."

Grissom, slightly distracted, nodded, remembering the case well. He had been solo on the case to begin with as they hadn't at first realised that it was anything other than a terrible accident. It was only later when they realised that the boys had known the victim that the true picture had emerged and Grissom was the only one who could vouch for the initial collection of evidence, which was vital for a conviction. It had been the last case he completed before he took Sara to the cabin.

"It's okay, I've been through the file."

Catherine looked concerned. She tried to be tactful.

"Yes, but that's not the same as being there. What if you can't remember and they ask you a question about something that's not in the file…?"

Grissom looked up at Catherine but a brief, almost subliminal flinch behind her made him catch Sara's eye instead. He found that he couldn't look away from the strange expression on her face. Her dark eyes were totally focused on him and she seemed to be waiting for something. Her whole body was rigid with tense anticipation. What could she be waiting for? Why the tension? All Catherine had said was 'if you can't remember'.

Grissom's stomach lurched. Sara was waiting for him.

She knew about his restored memory.

He saw the moment that she saw his realisation. Sara blinked once, releasing him. In her eyes he could see her sad regret and her disappointment, but also her anger. All at once Grissom wanted to go to her and explain the unexplainable. He stood up quickly as she turned away.

It had all happened in a split second and no one else seemed to have noticed the interaction. Catherine looked at Grissom in surprise as he moved around his desk and he almost ran in to her when she didn't move out of the way quickly enough.

"Grissom?"

Grissom looked at Catherine and he froze momentarily. What to do? Go after Sara or stay and do the work he was being paid to do?

There was no contest.

Grissom continued moving towards the door of his office by instinct, but habit made him briefly turn back to Catherine. Nick and Greg both wore the expression of someone who knew that they had missed something, but didn't know what. They looked at each other, then back at the two other occupants of the room.

"Catherine, don't worry about the trial, I have my memory back, it'll be okay. Nick, leave the report on my desk and I'll get back to you shortly. Greg, DNA yes or no?"

Greg was proud of the fact that he wasn't left floundering amid the flurry of directions. He looked startled but managed to blurt 'yes' before his Supervisor got to the door. Grissom nodded in his direction.

"Good. Tell Brass."

And then he was gone.

The three remaining people looked at each other. Catherine blew her bangs out of her eyes and put one hand on a hip as she looked at the two men with exasperation.

"He has his memory back."

She snapped her fingers.

"Just like that!"

Nick placed his report file on Grissom's desk where it would be the first thing he would see when he returned. Whenever that would be.

"So it seems. But he sure does look like a man who has lost something."

Greg frowned at the printout in his hand. He would put it in its file and hand it in later. The only time he had ever seen Grissom get even vaguely this rattled was usually when it had something to do with…he looked at the open door and back at the others.

"Where did Sara go?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Sara! Wait!"

Sara paid no heed to her husband's voice. She continued to make her way to the locker room and, once there proceeded to remove her personal items from her designated locker with briskly efficient movements. Grissom had followed her and now stood behind her, waiting for her to turn around. When it was clear that she was not going to, he reached out and touched her arm.

Sara looked at the hand on her arm then at its owner. Grissom fought the urge to drop his hand immediately and she arched an eyebrow. He could feel the frost.

When it was obvious that he wasn't going to let her arm go, she looked at him while blindly stuffing things into her purse.

"What could you possibly say to me that would explain why you would rather let me think that your memory had not returned?"

Sara didn't give him chance to reply. The hurt was plain to see on her face.

"What was so bad about our short time together that you…?" She broke off. "How could you?"

Although quietly voiced, Sara's question was raw with pain. Grissom thought that he couldn't feel any worse than he did, but he was wrong. There was a long pause while he struggled to find the words he needed. When they came he was aware of their inadequacy.

"I'm sorry."

When it looked as if Sara was going to tell him that 'sorry' wasn't good enough, he held up his free hand, its palm facing Sara, wanting to soothe her, but unsure how to do so.

"When I woke up and realised that I could remember everything – everything about us -, I was overjoyed. But crashing down on that was the realisation that you might be wounded or…"

Grissom couldn't even bring himself to finish the terrible thought.

"By the time you walked in that door, safe and sound, all I could think was that you were still here and we had another chance at a future that I'd never thought possible, one that I twice thought I'd lost."

Sara had stopped shoving things into her overcrowded purse. She searched Grissom's eyes for some extra clue.

"That doesn't explain why you didn't tell me later."

Sara was holding her overstuffed purse to her chest as if her life depended on it. Grissom sighed, exhaling heavily. He did not have a reasonable answer. In retrospect it seemed absurd that he had not told her the truth.

"Sara - "

Sara's eyes flashed and she cut Grissom off abruptly.

"NO!"

Grissom was taken aback by her vehemence. He didn't have time to draw breath before Sara continued.

"It's too late. Y'know, I know it got a little bumpy in the middle for a while, but things improved and I waited. I had faith and I waited for you to tell me the truth. But you didn't, not until you had to admit it for a case. Not for your wife, but for a case. Just how long were you going to leave it?"

Grissom's mouth opened but nothing came out for a long moment. A sense of calm stole over him. It was the type of preternatural calm that comes with the realisation that you are about to either die in combat or you are so screwed that it couldn't get any worse.

"I wasn't going to leave it, I have been wanting to tell you for some time, but I admit that I was wrong. For what it's worth, I am sorry."

Sara felt some of the tension leave her shoulders and neck. But she was not ready to forgive Grissom yet; he had hit her right in the middle of her insecurities when she was at her most vulnerable. She had opened her mouth to respond when they were interrupted by a voice from the direction of the doorway.

"Hey, there you are! What's this? You tryna sneak off without your leaving gift and the sumptuous offering of nibbles?"

Sara's mouth snapped shut. Great, more people, just what she wanted.

Grissom stopped himself from turning to face Greg, using his body to shield Sara until she had time to recover. It also gave him time to school his own features. He looked Sara in the eyes as he gently squeezed her arm.

"We have to talk, this isn't over."

Sara's ultra saccharine smile was a work of art as she removed Grissom's hand.

"That's not something that you get to decide."

She shut her now empty locker and dropped her keys into her crammed purse, then waited pointedly for Grissom to move aside so that she could join the others. He stepped back, allowing her to pass by. After a long moment he followed, heading for the break room.

Regardless of how he was managing to blind his superiors to his relationship with Sara, there were people on this shift who knew that he and Sara were together and that the baby was his. It would be inappropriate for him not be present on her last day, both as her Supervisor and as her partner. Besides that, he wanted to be there.

His pace didn't alter when he heard the laughter. He'd get there soon enough, and for now he needed to learn to be patient until Sara forgave him.

It would be a while longer before he forgave himself.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Catherine surveyed her living room and wondered whether it would be easier to clean up later. There were several sheets of torn wrapping paper strewn about and the assorted catering mess of glasses and flatware dotted around. Sara had offered to stay and help clear up but Catherine wouldn't hear of it. It was Sara's baby shower and she wasn't going to have Sara do anything but sit and enjoy her party.

Catherine went and changed out of her party finery into clothes more suited to clearing up. She had barely got started when she heard Warrick's voice from the hall.

"Hey, is it safe to come in yet?"

Warrick stuck his head into the room, his expression wary. Catherine grinned.

"Sure! I could use another pair of hands."

Warrick sauntered over to Catherine and he took the tray of glasses out of her hands. Placing the tray down on the coffee table he turned and gave Catherine a kiss of greeting.

"How did it go?"

Catherine had to think for a second, her mind having transferred to an altogether different track. Warrick really did have the most fabulous eyes. She gathered her wits.

"Oh, yes, fine, the party went well and Sara was happy with her gifts as far as I could tell."

"Cool."

Warrick linked his arms loosely around Catherine's waist, his expression becoming unusually serious.

"Is it me, or do you think that there's something wrong between those two?"

Catherine had mirrored Warrick's embrace, but she leaned back a little to make eye contact.

"You mean between Sara and Gil? Mmm, I've been wondering the same thing. Something happened in Gil's office yesterday that set me thinking. Gil told us that he had his memory back and seconds later – without a word, Sara vanishes. More amazing yet, Gil vamoosed a minute or two later. Nicky's of the opinion he went after Sara."

Catherine continued to hold Warrick, her hands in the back pockets in the seat of his pants. He tried not to be too distracted by the hands on his butt.

"You think it's linked?"

"Well, it's a leap, but thinking about it now in retrospect, I think Sara was as surprised as we were when Gil said that he had his memory back. I don't think he'd told her. God knows why not, but He ain't talkin."

Warrick looked down into Catherine's eyes and his arms pulled her closer.

"Well, they have less than six weeks to figure it out. After that they will have a whole lot less time on their hands."

Catherine absently 'umm'd' in agreement, but her smile had altered from amusement to something a lot more personal.

"Speaking of which, we have just over an hour until Lindsey gets home from school."

Warrick looked around the room, his expression innocent.

"Gee, I guess we'd better get started on the clearing up."

Catherine nodded, her expression just as guileless.

"Ahuh."

Warrick's hands slid down to cup her butt and he pulled her up and closer to him, allowing her to feel the effect that she had on him. His eyes wandered all over her face, finally settling on her lips.

"Where should we start?"

Catherine smirked as she ground her hips against his arousal.

"The master bedroom."

Warrick's smirk was threatening to break out.

"Really? Is it very dirty in there?"

Catherine's lips were scant inches from Warrick's ear.

"Positively filthy."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Grissom let himself into the townhouse, left his jacket on the nearest available chair and dropped his keys on the kitchen bar. It had been a pig of a night and without Sara there these last few days they had been very busy. His neck was stiff with tension and he rolled his head and shoulders to try to ease the pressure. What he could do with was a long hot shower but he didn't want to wake Sara if she was still sleeping. The place seemed very quiet and still. He looked around and noticed how tidy everything was. He frowned, the first stirrings of unease moving through him.

Grissom went to the bedroom, treading softly just in case Sara was asleep. To his relief she was lying in bed, facing the side he slept in, and hugging one of his pillows. One shapely leg was on top of the bedding and Grissom smiled wistfully when he saw the discreet tattoo on her ankle. It always brought back good memories.

He quietly crossed the room, kicked off his loafers and shrugged out of his T-shirt. He removed his watch, then his socks, pants and boxers. He took the clothes to the laundry hamper in the bathroom and padded softly back to the big bed. Although uncertain of his welcome, he lifted the covers on his side and slid carefully in beside Sara. He thought that he'd made it without waking her, but she opened her eyes a little and then smiled sleepily.

"Mmm, it's you."

Grissom smiled – partly with relief - as Sara shoved the pillow out of the way, allowing him to take its place.

"You were expecting someone else?"

Sara settled back against him, rested her head on his chest and placed her arm over his stomach. Her voice was drowsy.

"Nah, all my other lovers are busy."

Grissom looked at her, one eyebrow on the climb.

"For which I am grateful. I get you to myself."

"Mmmm."

Grissom's headache was easing as he relaxed, settled back against his pillows and closed his eyes. He was relieved that Sara hadn't given him the cold shoulder.

She was quiet for several minutes and he thought that she had gone back to sleep. He was just drifting off himself when she stirred.

"You smell like work."

Grissom opened his eyes and looked down into Sara's.

"Is it bad? Do you want me to go and shower?"

"No, it's'okay. I like it. A combination of Greg's lab chemical smell, the general fugg of the place and, of course, the washrooms soap. I kinda miss it."

"What? The soap?"

"No, silly. Just work, I guess. And that's after only one day."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay, it's not your fault. I went in for this with my eyes open."

Grissom pulled Sara closer, his hand slowly stroking the top of her arm.

"Actually I wasn't apologising, I was sympathising. Although we both went into this with our eyes open, that's not the same as knowing what was going to happen and how we would feel about all of it."

Grissom looked at her again and wondered for the thousandth time why some benevolent higher power had smiled on him.

"But I am sorry for hurting you through my own stupidity and fear. If I could go back and change it, I would. I don't want to lose you or what we have together."

Sara didn't answer for several moments, her face thoughtful. Grissom could feel the baby moving around where Sara was pressed against his right side and he was briefly distracted, wondering what it felt like from her point of view.

Finally Sara let out a small sigh.

"It'll take more than that to make me walk away from our family. But I'm still angry and it's going to take a while to get past this. It felt like a betrayal and I can't let that go…yet."

She pinned Grissom with her dark eyes and he could feel her residual anger.

"Don't ever lie to me again, by either word or omission. I don't want to do this on my own, but I can and will if I have to."

Grissom did not doubt Sara for a moment. After yesterday's confrontation, he was grateful that she hadn't already decided that she could manage without him.

"I can't promise that I'll never let you down again, I warned you that I was bad at the whole relationship thing. But I can promise that I won't knowingly hurt you."

"It's a start. And you're not bad at this relationship; you just need to work on it. I thought we had that figured out up at the cabin. Things were good there, and although we knew it would change back here, I never thought we'd get to this point."

Sara sounded subdued, and Grissom was profoundly sorry that he had caused this.

"I'll make it up to you. I owe you that, at least."

Sara shook her head and looked in to Grissom's eyes. This time he thought he saw a measure of forgiveness.

"No. You don't owe me anything other than the promise you just gave me. Besides, don't you know that no one ever loses if no one's keeping score?"

One side of Grissom's mouth tipped up at the corner and he frowned with concentration.

"Is that a quote? It sounds familiar."

"Lyrics from a song."

"I like the principle idea. Who is it by?"

"Chely Wright. Interestingly, the song is called 'For the long run'. About being in a relationship for the long run, good and bad."

Grissom obviously was not familiar with the flame-haired singer, but Sara wondered if he'd remember the tune, as she did play the CD at the townhouse occasionally. She hummed a few bars, then sang,

"But the good times keep on coming, and the bad ones ain't so bad. And the worst that ever happens is still the best I've ever had. One thing that you taught me that I never knew before; no one ever loses if no one's keeping score."

While Sara had been singing, Grissom's hand had stopped moving on her arm. When she had finished, he looked at her. It was a moment before he found his voice.

"You are an amazing woman."

Sara looked at him, her expression serious.

"You can be astute."

Grissom pursed his lips, frowning.

"Not often enough."

He had missed the easy banter and the sharp quips that used to fly between them, and it was obvious to him that they still had some way to go before that was re-established. But at least she was speaking to him.

"Thank you."

Sara lifted her head and looked at him, a slightly wary expression on her face.

"What for?"

"Everything. For not giving up on me."

Sara feigned nonchalance, her right hand absently roving over Grissom's chest.

"Yeah, well, too much time invested in you to quit now."

Sara's hand on Grissom's chest was stirring up all sorts of ideas in him that did not involve going to sleep. He captured her moving hand and held it still as a sudden thought struck him.

"In all these weeks that you've been distant, you never withdrew from me physically. You never made me feel that I wasn't welcome in your bed."

"Or anywhere else?"

Sara's answer was flippant, but her expression was unexpectedly serious.

"Or anywhere else."

Grissom agreed, still intrigued and waiting for her answer.

"I was angry with you, but I didn't see why I had to be punished too. Women who cross their legs as soon as the guy has done something wrong obviously don't enjoy sex. I am not one of those women."

"No, you certainly are not."

Sara hid her smile at his heartfelt tone. He wasn't quite off the hook yet.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"But this isn't about what you think. I need to do this."

Grissom looked at Sara with something very close to exasperation. He was more than concerned about her. He stood one side of their bed, while Sara stood at the foot of it, beside an open suitcase already partway filled with clothing. Grissom's voice was firm, with no sign of his underlying fear.

"Sara, we've been over this. I've said I'm sorry, what more can I do?"

At thirty-five weeks pregnant Sara was neatly rounded with the baby, her legs were fabulous and Grissom thought she still looked great. All except for the stubborn look on her face.

"I've already accepted your apology. This isn't about that or you. This is about me. I need to get away for a few days. Before you know it the baby will be here and we'll have no time to ourselves."

Grissom allowed her glare to bounce off him almost unnoticed. She had never needed time to herself before he had been a prize idiot. He felt the ground he had recovered over the last few days slipping away from him as he struggled to find a compromise.

"I understand that, but this is ridiculous. You can't go away on your own like this, not when you are so close to your due date. At least wait until I can come with you; the Mackenzie case will be over by the weekend then I can drive you almost anywhere you like."

Sara carefully straightened from her case. She folded another T-shirt and added it to the pile.

"That's nearly a week away; even closer to D-day. And 'come with you' kinda invalidates the whole 'I need to get away' thing."

She didn't feel as calm as she was hoping she looked. But she knew that Grissom would try to prevent her going if she lost her cool with him.

Grissom sighed and rubbed the back of his neck with a hand. He looked at the case.

"How long are you thinking of being away 'finding' yourself?"

Sensing a whiff of weakness, Sara allowed the slightly sarcastic tone to pass.

"Just a few days. I would be back by the weekend, and then you'll be free as well. We could do something together."

Grissom had little or no choice; it was obvious that Sara had already decided on this course of action. He could see that there was no real expectation of getting her to change her mind.

"Fine, go if you must."

Sara's face relaxed, but she didn't leap for joy. No sense rubbing it in and she wasn't in any fit state to leap anywhere.

But Grissom wasn't finished.

"There are some conditions."

Sara's expression was a wary blend of resigned acceptance and suspicion.

"Which are…?"

Grissom crossed to the bedroom closet and lifted out the pre-packed baby bag for the hospital. It contained everything that she would need when she was admitted to hospital in labour.

"Take this with you. Remember to keep your cellphone charged. Call me when you get to your hotel and let me know that you are okay."

Sara nodded, prepared to be more agreeable now that she had got her own way. Grissom wasn't finished yet and she could tell from his expression that this was leaving a bad taste.

"And I want you to rest. No rushing about."

Sara walked around the bed and went to Grissom, laying a hand on his arm. She searched his face for a sign that she was getting through to him.

"I'll be okay. The baby's not due for over a month, and the clinic said that everything was fine yesterday."

That was another bone of contention; Grissom had not been able to make yesterday's appointment with Sara because it clashed with a court appearance for him.

"When is your next visit?"

"Monday next, ten sharp. I'll be here. Hell, I'll be here by Friday."

Sara tried to reassure Grissom, but he refused the consolation.

"When are you leaving?"

Grissom's tone was resigned, and Sara felt a spark of annoyance, which she immediately quelled. He wouldn't be the man he was if he wasn't concerned about her welfare. She slipped her arms around his waist and felt his arms come up around her.

"I might as well go today, especially now that I'm packed."

Grissom frowned as he went through his mental checklist.

"Where is this place again?"

Had Grissom been looking directly at Sara instead of holding her in a close embrace he might have seen the slightly evasive look that momentarily crossed her face when she answered his question.

"A little place over in Lake Mead way. Quiet, restful, with no casinos or all night parties."

Grissom would have asked for more details, but Sara forestalled any further questions by kissing him. Although surprised, he responded automatically without any conscious thought of resisting. He dismissed as uncharitable the idea that he had just been skilfully manipulated. When they parted they looked at each other for a long moment. Both had expressions that were speculative, one wickedly amused and the other as if judging whether or not they had time for this.

Grissom decided that he would damn well make time, providing he could sleep for some of the afternoon he should be rested enough to work that night.

"Do you have to leave right now?"

Sara, both aroused and relieved that she had diverted Grissom, smiled sincerely.

"I think I could be persuaded to go a little later."

Grissom pulled his head back to get Sara back in focus. His lips twitched with amusement.

" 'A little'?"

Sara grinned as her hands slid up Grissom's arms to his shoulders, with one hand continuing on up into the slightly unruly salt and pepper curls at the back of his head. The next kiss was longer and left her somewhat breathless and flushed.

"Okay, maybe more than a little."

If Grissom had any thought of keeping Sara in bed so long that she gave up the idea of leaving in the afternoon he had enough sense to keep it to himself. As he moved Sara's case to the floor and pulled back the bedding, he was not above thinking that this was not the first time that he had tried to tell Sara how much he loved her with action instead of words.

He hoped it worked this time.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Grissom insisted on checking over Sara's car to make sure that she would have no trouble with it on her journey. Having looked at the tires, the lights, checked the oil and gas level, he finally conceded that she was okay to leave. He did have one more stab at putting her off going.

"You sure you're okay to drive? How far are you going?"

Sara had her shades on for the drive so she felt reasonably confidant that Grissom would not see any telltale sign of deceit in her expression.

"Not far, so don't worry. I'll call you when I get there, okay?"

Grissom wanted to point out that he was not 'okay' about any of this, but he remained quiet. Sara was a strong willed woman and was determined to get her own way. He only hoped neither of them lived to regret it.

Sara took his silence as assent and started the engine. Grissom stepped back from the vehicle and waited for her to pull away. She did so with her usual brisk efficiency and the last he saw of her was the wave of a hand out of the left-hand front window. Then she was gone.

Grissom stood there for a while, frowning as he looked down the empty roadway. When he realised that one of his neighbours was giving him a curious look, he turned and went back inside the townhouse. He felt slightly on edge. It wasn't just the simple fact that he thought Sara was being irresponsible – which he did - it was the feeling that he'd missed something important in their conversation. He shook his head as if to clear it, and crossed the floor to his kitchen area to clear the remains of their recent meal. Perhaps if he tried not to think about it, the conversation would replay and he could find out what he had missed.

Left alone to his own devices for the first time in a while at home and too restless to sleep, Grissom walked over to the B&O and looked through the music collection, now somewhat larger than it had been. He flicked through the jewel cases, not sure what he was in the mood for. Anything but the oppressive silence that he had once thought so peaceful. He stopped at one case and lifted it out for closer inspection. The titian-haired woman on the simply styled cover stared out at him, a half-smile on her face. So that was 'Chely'. He flicked the case over and read the back. The third track, 'One night in Las Vegas' made him blink but he moved down the list until he read 'For the long run'. Although it wasn't his usual style of music, curiosity made him take out the disc and load it into the CD player. He skipped though to track nine and pressed play.

As the music filled the room, Grissom settled on the couch to listen. After about a minute, he wasn't sure if this was a love song or not. The man involved appeared to be less than faithful. The chorus came up for the second time.

'So I just laughed it off, it's no big deal. It's a scratch I know tomorrow you're gonna heal. It's the easiest thing I could have done when you love someone for the long run…"

Grissom realised that it probably was designed to be a love song, with forgiveness at its heart. The fact that it was lyrics from this song that Sara quoted to him gave him cause for optimism. He hoped that it was a sign that she would forgive him in the end. He was reasonably sure that she didn't see him as the unfaithful sort. Ha, that would be a laugh. Hell, he couldn't even be unfaithful to Sara when he wasn't dating her. She intruded in every situation with every woman that he had spoken to, even on a casual basis. He was familiar with his internal dialogue constantly reminding him that Sara had darker hair, or better shaped eyes, or a nicer nose, or longer legs – God those long long legs – or better, more kissable lips. Lady Heather had been the only woman who had even come close, and she had intrigued him despite his long-running 'Sara' thing.

Grissom listened to a few more tracks and found he was beginning to drift off to sleep. He used the remote to turn off the music system and dragged himself off to bed. The bedroom smelled of Sara, the bed more so. As he climbed into the rumpled bed he pulled across one of Sara's pillows and slid it down beside him. If he couldn't have his wife here, her perfume was the next best thing. Scent triggered the memory more than any other sense.

Less than ten minutes later he was asleep, a frown slowly easing from his forehead.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sara looked at her watch and decided that it was a good time to make a pit stop. She desperately wanted a rest room and she was nowhere near her destination. She recognised where she was and turned off the highway, into a car lot attached to a small restaurant. Within a very short space of time she had made herself much more comfortable and could turn her mind to a small meal.

She wondered if the pie was still as good as she remembered.

Less than half an hour later Sara was back in her car. The pie was better than she recalled and she had a second portion carefully wrapped in a napkin to eat later. She still had at least another hour and a half of her journey to complete and she might not pass another stop before she was hungry again. She stopped for gas before she left the town, making sure that she had enough fuel for her journey.

An hour later Sara was beginning to wonder whether it had been wise to mislead Grissom as to her destination. She had only wanted a couple of days to herself, to give her time to think, without him turning up early. She had told him Lake Mead, less than an hour from Vegas, when in actual fact she was on her way to the cabin. She had bought a map in Rachel and had the route written down on a sheet of notepaper. She had been awake on this last part of the journey with Grissom and her memory of the route was very good, as was her sense of direction.

What was giving Sara cause for concern were the dark clouds building up ahead, making the previously bright day seem to slip into premature dusk. With apprehension making her cautious, the last leg of her journey seemed to take longer than she remembered, and she was more than grateful to finally arrive at Grissom's cabin. Sara was by now desperate for the toilet again, and in her haste to get up the last part of the track, she failed to notice that there were no lights visible in Mrs. Weston's cabin further down the mountain.

When Sara emerged from the cabin to collect her case from the car ten minutes later the daylight had deteriorated further and the wind was rising. It was a struggle getting her stuff into the cabin with the gusts threatening to take the box of food out of her hands. When she finally got the last of her things out of the car, she was dismayed to feel a smattering of raindrops on her face.

Inside the cabin it was quieter. Sara was a little perturbed that the place seemed to smell a little stale and closed up. When she had tried to contact Mrs. Weston earlier in the week, she had been unable to speak to her in person. She had left a message on her answerphone, telling her that she would be staying at the cabin this week, but now the refrigerator had no fresh food or milk in it and there was a fine layer of dust evident on the horizontal surfaces around the various rooms.

Despite her misgivings, Sara sent a text to Grissom's cell to let him know that she had arrived safely. She figured that he would still be asleep, and it avoided having to answer any questions about her location. After the message had been sent, Sara made herself a mug of decaf coffee using milk from the carton that she had brought with her, then rummaged in her box of foodstuffs for a can of thick vegetable soup. It wouldn't be a patch on Grissom's home-made soup, but it would be better than nothing. She searched for a bowl suitable to use in the microwave oven, and once the soup was heating through, she made some toast. She was sure that once she had a full stomach, things wouldn't seem too bad. She could manage without the fresh groceries until tomorrow. The weather was bound to perk up; it wasn't as if it were winter after all.

As Sara sat down to enjoy her meal, she had no idea how wrong she was.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

As soon as Grissom woke up he checked his cellphone for messages. He was relieved that Sara had arrived safely, but frowned when he checked the time of the message. Either it had taken her considerably more time to get to Lake Mead than she had expected, or Sara had not sent the message as soon as she had arrived at her hotel.

Grissom swung his legs to the floor of the bedroom as he dialled Sara's cellphone. He was already regretting his acquiescence over Sara's departure, and the longer the cell rang, the more convinced he was that something was wrong.

Suddenly the telephone was answered.

"Hi honey, you got my text then?"

Sara sounded a little breathless. Anxiety made Grissom's voice sharp.

"Finally. Where have you been?"

Eyebrows raised, Sara looked at the cellphone in her hand as if it would allow her to see Grissom's expression. After a count of five, she replied, her tone light.

"Imagine if you will that you are tired from carrying what feels like twenty kilos of water under your shirt. You sit down in a low chair and find that you have difficulty getting up again. Then your cell, which, naturally, you have left out of reach, starts to ring. With me so far…?"

Grissom was not in the least mollified by Sara's explanation. He leaned forward, placing one of his elbows on a muscular thigh and holding the cell to his ear with his other hand. His voice was terse, his words clipped.

"Sara, I'm not in the mood. Are you okay?"

"No, Grissom, I fell half way down the mountain, ass over tit, and am lying at the bottom, thinking about how irresponsible I am."

Grissom knew that he was under attack – she had called him 'Grissom' and in that tone of voice.

"Sarcasm is still the lowest form of wit. It's not unusual for – what mountain?"

Grissom's sharp question caught Sara wrong-footed. She had completely forgotten that she was supposed to be at Lake Mead. She scrabbled for a plausible explanation.

"Eight months pregnant; every small hill feels like a mountain. You know how it is."

Sara tried to be conciliatory, but without appearing to yield too quickly. That was the trouble with being married to someone with such a quick, sharp mind. She hurried on.

"So, I'm here now. What's up?"

The silence seemed to stretch for long minutes as Sara crossed her fingers. Eventually Grissom answered.

"No, I don't know 'how it is'. I'm sorry that you think I have no right to be worried when you are away from me at this late stage in your pregnancy. Nothing is 'up'. I was just calling to see that you had everything you need…"

Sara looked around the kitchen and realised with a pang that the cabin had seemed far more 'alive' when Grissom had been here with her. She thought she heard him sigh.

" …And to see if you have changed your mind about coming…home."

Grissom's small hesitation was nearly her undoing. She suddenly wished that she were beside him now. She forced her voice to be brighter. She'd made her bed; now she had to lie in it.

"I'm good, I have pretty much what I need." Except you. " I'll be back the day after tomorrow."

Sara could almost hear Grissom's frustration over the cellphone. When he didn't say anything for a long moment, Sara opened her mouth to speak, but he beat her to it.

"Sara…"

Nothing else was forthcoming as Grissom tried to find a logical way to explain the most illogical pattern of events that had led them to this moment. Every sentence that he got started in his head seemed to go nowhere and he could not find a succinct way of getting his point across. It was so frustrating. He knew that he had every right to be feeling the way he did about her bizarre desire to be alone for a few days, but he couldn't say 'I want you here, now' without it sounding selfish and autocratic. Maybe he was being selfish, but it was his baby too. He wanted the baby safe, but way out in front of that thought, he wanted Sara safe. With him. Now. How could he explain…?

"Gil? You still there?"

Grissom's mindvoice said 'always' but his mouth kept his secret.

"Yes. Sorry. Take your time. I'll see you…whenever." How did we get here? Did I do all of this? We were so close back at the cabin.

Another brick was added to the wall that Grissom was inadvertently building around his heart. He was backing off to protect himself.

Even Sara's voice seemed further away.

"Day after tomorrow, Gil. I'll be back soon. I gotta go, the cell needs recharging. Love yo- "

The connection was cut abruptly before Grissom had chance to reply. But he said it anyway.

"Love you too, Sara."

Grissom dropped his cellphone on the bed beside him and stared unseeingly at floor. After a minute or so of silent contemplation, he leaned over and opened the previously locked bedside drawer. He reached to the back of the drawer and pulled out a small brown jewellery box. He flipped open the lid, revealing a ring-bed of white silk. Securely held in its soft embrace was a gold ring inset with three princess-cut diamonds. One diamond for each of them.

He had discovered that Sara thought emeralds and rubies were unlucky. She did not mention sapphires at all, so he had been keeping an open mind for either sapphires or diamonds when window-shopping. When Grissom laid eyes on this ring he just knew that it was 'the one'. He had been in and out of the jewellers inside ten minutes. The ring was a one-off, part of a selection that a new artist had made for showcasing his talent, and, most extraordinary of all, it was the right size for Sara. Had Grissom believed in such a fickle thing as fate, he would have said that it was meant to be.

Grissom closed the lid with a snap. He had not planned anything yet for his 'proposal'. He couldn't think of any original or unusual way of doing it. He felt slightly hampered by the fact that as they were already married, he couldn't just say 'please marry me' over a nice meal at her favourite restaurant. Ah, Sara, look what you do to me. He got up and headed for the shower.

An hour later, on his way to the lab, Grissom was pondering over the idea of getting Brass to issue an APB to find Sara. Similar intermittent and intrusive ideas kept surfacing on and off throughout the night. Perhaps he could trace her cellphone signal. Or start ringing the hotels in the Lake Mead area.

At which point Grissom decided that he needed a distraction. Actually, another distraction. Thomas Carlyle had it right in one of his speeches when he said that 'work is the grand cure of all the maladies and miseries that ever beset mankind'.

Grissom pulled over one of the folders sitting on one corner of his desk and opened it up. Ah, homicide and foul calumny, just the job.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"How did it go in court?"

Grissom looked up at Catherine's enquiry. She stood in the doorway of his office waiting for a reply. He didn't need to ask which case she was referring to.

"As you suspected, they tried a few tricks. Fortunately I had the information they thought they needed. It didn't do them any good. The evidence told its own story."

Catherine smiled with true appreciation as she crossed the floor to a chair in front of Grissom's desk. Her eyebrows raised.

"Guilty?"

Grissom's lips pursed with satisfaction.

"As sin."

Catherine looked at him, her head tipped at an angle.

"Do you know, that's the first time I've seen anything even vaguely like a smile out of you this week?"

Grissom raised his eyebrows and his lips flattened out, giving him a rueful expression. He didn't respond to the implied question underneath Catherine's verbal one. He had to follow his own 'leave your personal life at home' policy. He moved a file folder from one side of his desk to the other, and then looked at her. She had no difficulty reading the suspiciously polite enquiry on his face. She handed over the folder that she had been holding when she arrived in the doorway.

"Okay, to work."

Grissom ignored the amusement in Catherine's voice as he opened up the file and started to read. As he lost himself in the results and evidence he was grateful that there was something that could distract him from Sara's absence, for a few moments, at least.

Except that he was still thinking of her.

Twenty minutes later, after discussing the contents of the file, Catherine stood up to go, her mind already on her next task. She subsided back onto the chair when Grissom looked up at her.

"I'm taking some personal time tomorrow, I won't be in."

Catherine stopped her instinctive urge to ask 'why?'. She looked at Grissom. Two could play at 'cool'.

"Fine. If we need to, I'll see if someone from day shift can cover."

She smiled with genuine amusement as she got to her feet and added,

"Oh, and Grissom? Tell Sara I said 'Hi'."

Grissom shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He eventually nodded. No point in telling Catherine that Sara was not at the townhouse.

After Catherine had left the office, Grissom looked at his watch. Nearly five am. There were still a few hours before he finished the shift, even if they didn't get a callout. As he stood up and left his office, Grissom absently noted that he needed to get his desk chair adjusted. If his back ached like it did right now after only an hour or so, something had to need resetting.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sara looked at the bedside clock's luminous green numbers and groaned in dismay. Four am. Just because she was used to being awake at this time of night didn't mean that she was thrilled to be woken up unexpectedly.

She turned her head to look out of the bedroom window just in time to see a flash of lightning. It's pink brilliance made her wince and left her retinas with a green afterimage. The loud rumbling bang of thunder followed straight afterwards and she could hear the rain hammering down. It must have been the thunder that woke her.

The weather had been very unsettled since she arrived at the cabin. On the day after her arrival she had gone shopping for fresh groceries and had bought enough for her not to have to shop again this week. It had been a wise decision in light of the conditions outside.

Thoroughly awake now, Sara struggled out of bed and went to stand by the window. In the lightning flashes she caught glimpses of the mountain view. She opened the window just a fraction, immediately smelling the tang of ozone on the fresh damp air. Not for the first time in the last couple of days, Sara wished that Grissom were here with her to enjoy this spectacle. The cabin felt secure enough and she was not afraid of the storm, but she wanted to enjoy it in the company of the man she loved. She had had plenty of time alone to think over the last year and she had finally made peace with herself and most of her demons. She was already packed for the drive home in the morning and that was the only reason that she was dismayed at being awake now. She had a long drive and would have preferred to be well rested before the journey. She sighed, taking in the cool fresh air and exhaling slowly.

Sara had spoken to Grissom daily, assuring him that all was well. Although at the beginning of the week she was ashamed to admit part of her reason for getting away was to tick Grissom off for keeping his recovered memory to himself, she now felt that it had been right to take some time out to get things straight. She would probably never get a proper explanation from Grissom because she didn't think that he knew the reason himself. But coming to the cabin reminded her of being here with him and she kept remembering little things that she had either forgotten or not consciously taken in at the time because there was so much going on.

And coming off.

Sara watched the grin appear on her reflection's face in the bedroom window. She suddenly felt very far away from Grissom and the comfort that she found in his arms. She turned and looked at the bed, just in time to see it illuminated by the next flash of lightning.

Sara had found more than comfort in Grissom's arms. In retrospect she could see how much he had cherished her, even before he had been able to say it with words. Call it sex, lovemaking, or the horizontal boogie, whatever it was it had been beyond any previous experience. It had been so much more than sex. They were so compatible, and no one but Grissom had ever made Sara feel so responsive and so confident in herself as a woman.

Lost in her reverie, Sara nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt a tremendous crackle of static electricity raise the hairs on her neck and arms. The accompanying lightning appeared to be directly over the cabin and was followed immediately by a clap of thunder so loud and close that she felt its vibration through the window and her hand.

"Christ, that was close."

Sara closed the window quickly, and the sound of the storm muted a little, but not much. She peered out of the glass to see if there was any sign of where the strike had come to earth. The rain largely obscured the view now, but she couldn't see any obvious sign of fire. She rubbed the gooseflesh on her arms and grabbed her robe, tying the sash as she left the bedroom. She made her way around the cabin, checking for damage from each window. The wind was whipping up organic debris, leaves and such, but she didn't see anything untoward until she entered the kitchen. Unexpected illumination came from an orange glow shining through the half-paned back door. It made her hurry across the room without stopping to switch on the lights.

Sara's breath sucked in as she stared out of the window.

Fire.

She unlocked and opened the door. Leaves and small twigs flew and scrabbled around her feet before settling behind her. The wind tugged at her clothing, lifting the flimsy robe and flapping the sash as if trying to undress her.

The lightning had struck one of the more remote coniferous trees over by the large shed used both for storage and vehicles. The smell of the burning wood and sap reminded her of Christmas, but the scene before her was far removed from a cosy evening in front of the hearth. The tree was well alight and there was little that she could have done about it, even if she hadn't been pregnant.

To Sara's relief there seemed to be little danger of the fire spreading to neighbouring trees as they were well distanced apart and already wet from the rain all week. Even as she watched, the blowing embers falling from the tree were being snuffed out as soon as they hit the wet ground.

Sara had hardly finished the thought when - above the noise of the storm - she heard something that she couldn't immediately identify. A splintering crack of sound that echoed like a gunshot. She looked up. As if in slow motion she watched a flaming bough fall from about halfway up the tree. She looked on in horror as she realised that its projected path straight down could have it land on or near the shed.

Where her car was.

"NoooO!"

Automatically Sara stepped forward and put out a hand as if to try to divert the bough's fall, even though she had to be at least eighty or ninety feet away and was totally incapable of moving something that big. Which also happened to be on fire.

Sara was instantly drenched by the heavy downpour, her robe and pj's no defence at all. The wind whipped her wet hair about her head, sticking strands to her face. The shock of the cold water made her gasp and the mud oozing between her toes brought her to her senses. Boots. She must get boots.

With a loud rustling thud the bough crashed to the ground, narrowly missing the shed roof. Sparks and small pieces of burning wood flew up into the air, whisked into a vortex of hot colour by the wind. Steam and flames squabbled over the fallen limb, each trying to keep the upper hand. It was bizarrely beautiful, almost mesmerising.

Sara shook off her shocked revere and hurried back inside, leaving a trail of muddy footprints. In the time it took her to get in the cabin, grab a waterproof, her car keys and a pair of oversized waterproof boots and get back outside, the rain was beginning to win. Steam hissed and spluttered over the blackened tree. The remaining flames that were being fed by the tree sap were the last to go, finally beaten back.

As the flames died down Sara realised that the light they supplied died too. It became darker with each passing moment as she made her careful way around the shed. She cursed herself for forgetting a flashlight, something she usually carried at all times. Cold, wet and half blind, Sara still managed to check that the fire had not taken hold of anything behind the building. She looked in through its window, but saw no sign of fire.

On balance Sara decided not to move the car, figuring that it was probably safer where it was. She turned back towards the cabin and suddenly realised that the thunder no longer came right on the heels of the lightning; the storm was moving off. Good news. And bad.

"Oh crap!"

The lightning was going with it – naturally - and it was less bright when it did flash. Within a short space of time it was pitch black between the intermittent flashes.

Not a good time to find out that she should have put the kitchen light on before she came out. Neither the main bedroom nor the living room windows faced out on this side of the cabin, so their lights were no use.

Forcing herself not to panic, Sara waited for her eyes to adjust to the dark, keeping them shut with her fingers over them to exclude the last of the lightning. Now that the cuffs of her sleeves were pointing upwards the rain ran down Sara's arms, making her elbows itch, but she ignored it. She counted the seconds between the claps of thunder and had an approximate idea of when to expect the next flash. She counted the next interval, testing the theory and it worked. She opened her eyes and was able to see a little better. Still counting, she made her way in the direction of the cabin, its dark shape marginally blacker than its surrounding.

Sara stopped and covered her eyes when the next flash was due. She waited for the thunder to pass, opened her eyes and resumed counting and walking. In this fashion she made it back to the kitchen door - only stumbling once in the slippery mud - and gratefully staggered into the utility room. The quiet and warmth were a direct contrast to outside and Sara savoured it for a few moments until the chill began to invade her limbs. She removed the waterproof and the boots and scraped her bare feet on the matting by the door, getting the worst of the mud off. There was no way she could bend down there and wipe her feet any other way. Junior saw to that. For the first time since she went out, Sara consciously thought of the baby as she made her wet way through the cabin to the bathroom and the shower. She smoothed her hands over her bump, talking as she walked.

"Hey in there, thanks for not making a fuss while I was busy. You may be wet, but I'll bet you're nice and toasty."

Sara had not removed the robe and pj's before she got to the bathroom. Bare wet flesh would have been even colder than wet clothes. She turned the shower on and waited for the hot water, which only took a few moments. Grabbing her shampoo and gel, Sara entered the cubicle still wearing the clothes and shivering. She stepped straight under the hot spray and rubbed at her arms until they tingled. As soon as she was warmer she peeled off the wet robe and nightwear, dropping them behind her. She savoured the hot water now directly on her skin.

"Jeez, that's good."

Sara washed her hair quickly and finished rinsing off. Outside the cubicle a couple of large warm towels were waiting, and she wrapped herself up in them, feeling immeasurably better.

She made herself a hot drink and took it back to bed with her. Glancing at the bedside clock, Sara was astonished to see that less than an hour had passed since she had woken up. She thought that she had been out for hours.

Sara lay propped up in the middle of the big bed with the quilt wrapped around her and sipped her hot chocolate. She felt warm and cosy, beginning to unwind and relax. She felt optimistic now that the storm had passed. In the morning she would assess the damage wrought, leave Mrs. Weston a note and make her way back to Vegas. No problem.

Sara's back started to ache from being in one position for too long, so she shifted slightly to relieve the pressure, tucking the quilt back in place. She finished her drink and turned to put the mug on the bedside unit. As she leaned over to reach, she felt her belly tighten up. Another Braxton-Hicks, the so-called practice contractions the uterus did in the run up to the real thing. Sara was unconcerned, having had several of them in the last few weeks. They usually passed off easily and if that was as bad as they got, Sara figured labour would be a cinch. A minute or so later, the tense muscles relaxed. The baby shifted, probably in response to the squeezing.

"C'mon, settle down. We need to sleep - "

With a suddenness that surprised Sara, the light went out. She laughed aloud.

"Hey, I could have done it myself y'know!"

The storm had probably hit a power line somewhere down in the valley. Again, Sara wasn't much concerned. The only thing that really required power here was the freezer, and there was only a limited amount of food in it, which would be okay if the chest was kept shut until the power came back. She didn't need to see to sleep.

Sara reached up to switch the light off so that if the power came back on before the morning, she would not be disturbed. She settled back under the quilt cover and despite her achy back, she was asleep within minutes. It was half five in the morning.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"You okay?"

Grissom looked up at Nick's enquiry. The younger man was standing by the coffee, having just filled his mug with the last of the potent 'end of shift' brew.

"Fine."

Was he okay? He was not sure. He had a resurgence of his stomach trouble and no amount of indigestion remedy seemed to make a dent in it. Grissom pushed away the plate of half-eaten food, its smell and appearance turning his stomach.

Normally he would have waited until he got home for something to eat, but he had hoped that a little food would have helped to settle the nausea. For some reason he felt edgy and restless.

"You sure? You don't look so good."

Grissom was spared from finding a reply by Catherine's timely arrival in the breakroom.

"Glad to find you both here. Eckle wants a pow-wow. Must be important, he's come in early."

"Oh joy."

Grissom silently agreed with Nick's observation, but pretended he hadn't heard it all the same.

"Now or at shift's end?"

"Quarter after shift's end. Wants the day shift present too."

"Oh man, that sucks. I had plans."

Nick's comment was laced with heavy irony. It was no secret that Eckle usually arranged his meetings to favour the larger day shift, and rarely did anyone on nights make firm plans for immediately after shift, knowing that there was always the possibility that they could still be processing a scene when the shift ended.

Catherine flicked a glance at Nick, but returned her gaze to Grissom.

"Also, Eckle suggests that you might like to get your beeper charged. Apparently he has tried 'a number of times' to get hold of you tonight."

Grissom's expression was innocently bland.

"Twice. Unfortunately on both occasions I was unavoidably detained. I will get back to him."

Catherine's expression barely shifted, but she managed to convey disbelief and amusement at Eckle's expense as she turned to leave.

"Sure. He'll be in his office."

Catherine turned back in the doorway to face Grissom.

"By the way, someone has left a couple of messages for you, asking you to get back to her as a matter of urgency. She sounded very keen to speak to you. I told her that you were out and to page you, but I presume she hasn't…?"

"Does she have a name?"

"A Mrs. Weston. She left a number."

Grissom was surprised to hear that she was trying to reach him. This time of year she usually visited her married daughter and grandkids in Reno.

"Okay, I'll get back to her after the shift."

Catherine looked doubtful.

"You sure? She sounded kind of worried."

Grissom shook his head, it was probably just something about the cabin. Weather this time of year always took a few tiles off and Mrs. Weston always sounded like the cabin had lost the whole roof. It was probably nothing.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Eckle looked at the assembled staff from the various departments and waited for the chit-chat to die down. It didn't. Forty-two people created a fair hubbub, and the break room was packed.

"Okay people, settle down."

It took several moments, but eventually everyone was quiet. Eckle cleared his throat and started talking.

Twenty minutes later, Eckle had turned over to page four of his 'notes' and the assembled group was getting restless. Any kind of a break would be really really nice.

Their prayers were answered.

Grissom's beeper went off. He looked down at the small screen, unconcerned about being the focus of all eyes, most of which were actually showing gratitude for the interruption.

Catherine and Warrick looked at each other with a 'what's up', Nicky and Greg both looked at Grissom.

It was Brass' office extension number. Frowning, Grissom cancelled the message. What could Brass want…? He must be aware they were all in this meeting.

"May I continue…?"

Eckle's sarcasm appeared to drip ice, but Grissom took his words at face value.

"Yes."

Two minutes later Brass could be seen hurrying up the corridor, the fast moving figure visible through the glass walls. Grissom could see the Captain searching the crowd, obviously looking for someone specific.

Their eyes locked. Grissom felt a cold hand squeeze around his heart.

Sara.

Eckle was still attempting to continue his delivery despite his audience's obvious distraction. Grissom made his way to the door, the people parting in front of him as if he were Moses at the seaside.

The two men met up. Grissom forced himself not to jump to conclusions.

"Problem?"

Brass nodded, finding it difficult not to notice that virtually all the department staff were looking at the two of them. He chose his words carefully.

"Mrs. Weston. You have an unexpected houseguest, who…"

Brass leaned forward and spoke very quietly. Grissom pulled back and sharply demanded,

"Where is she now?"

Brass leaned forward again. Grissom quickly thanked Brass and moved to step past him, heading for the door. Eckle was furious.

"Grissom! I'm not finished yet, come back here!"

Grissom stopped in the doorway, Brass at his side, and turned back towards Eckle.

"Mr Assistant Director, I apologise for the interruption, but I don't think there is anything in the rulebook about forcing a man to stay at a health and safety pep rally when his wife has just been involved in a car accident."

TBC