Sorry for a bit of a wait, folks...

The brakes screeched as Grissom pulled up outside Sara's apartment complex. He rushed up the stairs and reached for the key in his pocket. But then he stopped himself. He had to give her a chance before he went rushing in. He had already made that mistake once and he wasn't about to make it again if he could help it. As calmly as possible he knocked on the door. No reply. He knocked again. No reply. "Sara? It's Grissom. If you're in there, let me in." No reply. "If not, I'll let myself in." No reply. "I'm not going anywhere you know." No reply.

He was startled as the door to the apartment next to Sara's was opened. A middle-aged woman stepped outside in a dressing gown.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yes, fine. Sorry to disturb you. I don't suppose you've seen Miss Sidle recently?"

"You mean, Sara, the lovely girl next door?"

"That's the one."

"She works nights, you know."

"Yes, I'm a colleague. But she didn't turn up for work today."

"Really? That doesn't sound like Sara. She's such a hard worker, you know."

"I know. She's very dedicated."

"Such a lovely girl. Anyway, I must get back before the advert break finishes. I hope you find her." She closed the door gently behind her, drowning out the sound of the television from her apartment. Grissom knocked on Sara's door one last time, with no hope of her answering.

"I hope so too."

The sound of sirens filled Sara's head. She felt something warm trickle down her forehead and touched her hand to the source of the pain. She was aware of someone peering through the window of her car.

"Ma'am?" spoke a gentle voice. "Can you hear me?"

Sara nodded, feeling stiffness in her neck.

"Don't worry, ma'am, we'll get you out of there."

Grissom could physically feel a cloud begin to settle over him as he made his way around Sara's apartment. Everything was neatly tidied away. The personal touches, such as photographs and fridge magnets, had been removed. He held his breath as he opened Sara's wardrobe, releasing it slowly as he observed the lack of clothes inside. He knew he had no right to be in her home, but he no longer cared. All he could think about was the fact that she had left. It was too late. She could be anywhere by now and he had no way of finding out where that anywhere was. He sat down on her bed and picked up a pillow. Holding it to his face he breathed in deeply. It smelt of fabric detergent. Well, what was he expecting? Some wonderful 'Sara-smell' which would bring memories flooding back? This wasn't a film set. He placed the pillow back and made the bed up neatly before leaving the flat and locking the door.

He could not help but feel despairing as he got into his car once again. It was a horrible feeling, not knowing what to do and was deeply disconcerted by it. Grissom had chosen his job because he was good at it. It was familiar territory. Very rarely was he left unsure of what to do next. If he was honest it was for the same reason he had kept his distance from Sara. He was afraid of relationships; of being close to someone. Because relationships were unpredictable. You couldn't plan them, or know you were good at them (although Grissom felt quite sure that he wasn't.) Logic said that Sara leaving should make him happy; it was one less complication to deal with. But Grissom was beginning to realise that life wasn't cut and dry. Nothing could have prepared him for the feelings he was experiencing right now.

He started the ignition and drove. He was on autopilot. He went from accelerator to brake, changed the gear, and indicated as he turned corners, yet he was not thinking about any of his actions. He only became aware of his surroundings as he joined the back of an apparently never-ending traffic jam. He glanced out of the window, disinterested by the sight of a small pile up of cars to the side of him. That was until he spotted an untidy mop of dark hair sitting on the roadside. He stopped the car there and then and climbed out, ignoring the irate shouting of the drivers behind him. They were entirely happy to gawp at other people's misfortune, Grissom thought, until they had no option but to stay where they were.

It took all his effort not to run over to the accident scene. Indeed he couldn't hold back a cry of 'Sara!'. She glanced up at his approaching figure and he observed a look of panic flash over her face. For a moment he felt nervous. Was she really that disappointed that he had found her? But he went on, pushing his way past paramedics and policemen to reach her. He crouched down beside her. She would not meet his eye. He observed dried blood on her forehead and a bruise forming on her cheek.

"Honey, what have you done to yourself?"

She did not speak a word but a silent tear rolled down her cheek. Grissom could not bear to see her like this. He could almost feel her world tumbling down around her, and it broke his heart to even consider how she was feeling. He reached out for her hand, but she pulled it back. At that moment he thought he felt his own world begin to crumble as hers was. The ruins of their lives were forming a pile at their feet.

"Sara, how could you just leave like that?"

He knew it was neither the time nor the place, but the question just slipped out. She turned her head towards the ground but looked up with tired eyes at Grissom. Their gazes met for a split second and he could see her pleading with him to leave. But he was not going to give in. He thought he had lost her, and now he had been given another chance he wasn't letting go of it without a fight.

They sat there in silence for what seemed like forever. The noise of angry horns and shouting from those vehicles still stuck behind Grissom's car, and the bustle of emergency services helping those who needed it provided a not so soothing background. Gradually the solitary tears falling from Sara's eyes were joined by more and more until a waterfall of salty liquid was cascading down her aching cheeks. Grissom longed to take her into his arms but he knew that she wasn't ready for that. And in reality neither was he.

Eventually a paramedic spotted Sara and approached her. Ushering Grissom to one side, he saw to the wound on Sara's head and provided her with tissues to mop up her tears. With apparently no effort, he did all the jobs that Grissom felt he should be doing. He had been placed aside; made an onlooker. But that was better than not being there at all.