A/N: Hello! Sorry I know it's been a ridiculously long time since I started this story but I haven't abandoned it and I hope to finish it within the next couple weeks … I'll work hard on it now that I have some free time coming my way. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Still don't own anything CSI associated!

Chapter 2: Denial

Sara woke with a grin playing slowly across her face. Without opening her eyes, she stretched her arms luxuriously above her, relishing in the warmth of her surroundings. Without alarm she noted that she was alone; Grissom must have either woken before her (which was not at all rare) or been called in to work. She giggled softly to herself at the thought of Grissom being forced into work, knowing full well that the only reason someone of his position would be called instead of her would be that she was unreachable. He'd sealed his own fate.

Laughing softly at the thought of Grissom's boyish grin as he disconnected her phone from her battery the night before, Sara suddenly froze with her feet hanging off the side of the bed, poised to begin the day. With a start she realized how easy it had become for her to do things like grin, laugh and giggle. It was as if she was a happy kid again, like she was five years old. It dawned on her slowly; spreading through her body as if she'd stepped into a warm bath … she really was happy. For the first time in longer than she'd care to admit she wasn't just content or satisfied with her life, she was actually happy. Each day she woke with an eager excitement to face what was headed her way and each night she sighed happily before easing into a restful sleep. And, while she knew that Grissom wasn't solely responsible for her new-found state of mind, she was prepared to grant him a very large portion of the credit.

Thrilled with her improved lot in life Sara finished her analysis of her emotional state and headed into the bathroom to take a nice long shower. For some reason, every sense and sensation seemed heightened for her this morning. The bathmat beneath her bare feet was soft and warm next to the cold stone tiles that made up the rest of the floor. It squished delightfully between her toes until she stepped into the glistening shower and reached for the cool steel tap. She sat on a bench protruding from the far wall and watched the steam rise as the hot water cascaded down her back. She sighed and relaxed her muscles and felt yet another grin begin to stretch across her lips.

After indulging in the hot water for nearly half an hour and succeeding in effectively transforming the bathroom into a sauna, Sara decided the time had come for her to get dressed. Slipping into a silk bathrobe, she had no difficulty locating an outfit appropriate for the day and moved into the bedroom to change. By the time she was finished dressing Sara was sure that Grissom had been called in to work because had he been home she would surely have heard from him by now. Either that or have turned around to find him standing behind her silently watching her but offering a cup of coffee immediately upon being realized as a means of explanation for his presence.

At the thought of a cup of coffee Sara's mouth began to water and she realized that she was very hungry. She'd been eating much more regularly lately, mostly at the insistence of a certain supervisor, and found that enjoyed it a lot. Granted the improved eating habits required that she take somewhat regular breaks for nourishment but, rather than taking away from her work, she found she had far more energy lately and was able to concentrate more easily on some of the more tedious tasks assigned to a CSI. She'd even become far less dependent on the effects of caffeine, though she knew she would never be able to give up coffee completely.

Walking into the kitchen Sara noticed a small piece of paper sitting on the counter. It had obviously been written in a hurry, the scribbles on the page were barely legible, but Sara still recognized Grissom's hand. She had no problem deciphering it.

S.S.Got called in, that'll teach me!

Here's your battery, gimme a call

-G.G

Ps. Coffee's ready, just turn it on.

Smiling again, Sara absentmindedly folded the note and placed it in her back pocket as she headed towards the coffee pot. Things couldn't get any better than this.

Grissom whistled absentmindedly whenever a familiar song came on the radio and let his thoughts wander when the song was unfamiliar. The unswerving lights of the strip shone just a few blocks away and Grissom was free to observe the changes that had come over the city at each red light he encountered. It was strange, when he had first moved to Las Vegas he was forever spending his free time wandering along the strip gazing up in awe at the bright lights of so many hotels and casinos. Even as the years wore on he would frequent the strip at least once a week, if only to take in the sights and observe the thousands of tourists going about their lives. Then, six years ago when he had accepted a supervisor's position at the lab, things had begun to change. Grissom realized it had been years since he'd visited the busy center of the city and even then he'd only gone when the pressures of his job had nearly stripped him of his sanity. He found himself wanting to wander the strip again, perhaps hand-in-hand with a particular beautiful brunette.

Before he'd approached the neighborhood he was looking for, Grissom was resolved to taking Sara out on a date as soon as he was finished helping Catherine with her case. He knew Sara had the night off and the fact that he'd been called in for overtime, coupled with the considerable weight he held as supervisor, guaranteed that he would be able to find some free time as well. A romantic dinner followed by a long walk sounded like the perfect way to spend an evening. He couldn't wait. For a fleeting instant it occurred to Grissom that on the strip it was entirely possible for someone to recognize him walking intimately with a direct subordinate, but he pushed the thought aside along with the slight panic that accompanied it. He forcibly reminded himself yet again that he was doing nothing wrong seeing Sara (he was sure of this seeing as he'd read every work manual he could get his hands on to insure it before pursuing anything) and besides with all the tourists and locals bound to be crowding the area it was unlikely either of them would even be seen.

Grissom was still narrowing down the choices of restaurants and contemplating whether or not Sara would enjoy seeing a show when it occurred to him that he should probably check where he was going. Turning off the main road he found himself in an unfamiliar area of the city. He glanced again at the paper on which he'd scribbled the address of the scene as Catherine had told him. Hoping he wasn't about to get lost Grissom turned once more and saw the bright ref lights the thankfully informed him he'd arrived at the scene.

The usual crowd swarmed around a yellow police tape separating them from Grissom's precious evidence. He maneuvered between them easily and flashed his badge to an officer he didn't recognize, signaling him to lift the tape and let him pass. Carrying his silver case pat several officers interviewing witnesses and potential suspects, he soon spotted Catherine bent over a blood splatter pattern near the front entrance of the house. So intense was her concentration that she failed to notice Grissom's entry and jumped visibly when he coughed to announce his arrival. Ignoring her initial fright and opportunity for embarrassment completely, she immediately started filling Grissom in on the scene before them.

"Hey Gil, Sorry to call you in but the sheer volume of evidence demanded we call in another CSI. The case looks pretty cut and dry, Victim 2 was over here having dinner when Victim 1 decides to bring their whole affair out into the open. Vic 2 is outraged and beats Vic 1 to a pulp in front of her husband. The husband loses it and pulls a gun on his best friend before killing himself. Neighbor heard the whole thing and called it in."

Inwardly reeling from the thought of such hatred and violence Grissom said nothing as he knelt to examine the body of the first victim.

Pale blonde hair spilled out over marble tiles, stained red by the pool of blood in which the girl was soaked. Only the tips, lying nearly three feet from the source of the blood, retained the hairs' true color. As he looked toward the body the colors faded from blonde, to pink, through red, and ending in crimson so dark it almost appeared black. The same blood plastered the hair to her scalp. Pale legs extended at an awkward angle from beneath a light, cream colored sun dress. From the waist down the body was untouched and the girl appeared to be no more than in a highly uncomfortable slumber. But the splatter of her own blood covering her waist and arms revealed the truth of the situation. Kneeling closer, Grissom also noted tiny specks of something other than blood mixed in with the fluid covering her torso. He looked up again and without the aid of paramedics, David or Doc Robbins, he could see the cause of this woman's death. Above her neck, where there should have been the beautiful laughing face still fixed in pictures around the room, was instead no more than a hole in a broken skull. Blood and brain tissue had finished oozing from the opening where her face belonged and the liquid was now still, pooling and darkening as time passed. Though he didn't dare lift her head, he was sure a similar injury would be seen behind; he could almost imagine that the blood was pooling directly on the floorboards of the dining room. Grissom knew the flies would soon arrive and add to the discomfort felt by everyone present.

Sprawled just to the right was a man Grissom assumed to be their second victim. Contrasted to the display of brute force used on the woman, the single round bullet hole gracing the back of this man's skull seemed neat and almost civilized. The man's hands, now slack, were unrecognizable under their coating of blood and Grissom realized with horror that he had beaten his lover into a bloody death with his bare hands. In his mind's eye he could see the woman pinned against the floor, struggling in vain as one blow after another smashed her head back against the unyielding wooden panels. The nose would break first and then, as the blows continued, the skull itself would crack and shatter puncturing the brain matter within and finally ending the girls agonizing screams.

As Grissom was taking in these details Catherine's voice barely registered in the back of his mind. "He was lying on top of her when the paramedics arrived. The moved him aside before they realized she was beyond help and hauled ass outta here… I saw them when I got here, still chuckin' their cookies." There was a dry humor in her voice, the kind that really carried no humor at all.

After learning that the perimeter and suicidal husband were already being examined, Grissom removed his camera from its silver box and began documenting the scene before him. The work was dismal and tedious and Grissom decided to occupy his mind with something more pleasant. His mind wandered quickly to Sara and he continued to plan their date to the evening as he moved deftly around the bodies taking all necessary pictures of their positions.

He was nearly finished documenting the scene when the thought struck him that he hadn't actually asked Sara whether she was interested in going out with him tonight. While he was sure she would agree to a candle-lit dinner for two, he had also vowed to himself years ago that he would make an effort to be considerate of Sara's feelings. Simply assuming that she would agree to his plan would be rude and so he reached into his pocket and retrieved his cell. Just as felt it in his hand and was preparing to call Sara on his speedial, he was surprised to feel it vibrating in his fingers. Quickly withdrawing it from his pocket completely Grissom looked down to see that he had received a text message.

SS luvs GG

He smiled and slipped the phone back in his pocket. Sara would welcome the spontaneity of a surprise.

After working on the details of the scene for nearly an hour, Grissom was again pulled from his train of thought by Catherine's voice in the back of his mind. Her tone sounded especially exasperated and so he decided to offer her his full attention.

"What was that, sorry?"

"I said you're needed at another scene. Here's the address."

Grissom had clearly been right, she was more than a little annoyed that she was losing one of her CSI's. Personally he didn't see the big deal if he was needed elsewhere. I mean, they were almost finished collecting the evidence on this case and there was more than enough help at the lab to get through processing. For one in his life he decided not to voice his opinion and simply took the piece of paper from Catherine with an apologetic smile before heading out the door.

The scene he was reassigned to was surprisingly far away and Grissom was glad when he finally arrived. He had driven clear out of the city limits and stood now on the edge of the infinite desert. Even from his car he could see why he'd been sent to the scene; the multitude of bugs covering what he could only assume was a body could be seen and heard even from a distance. Stepping out of his Denali he was greeted by another unfamiliar police officer who told him more as he approached the bug infested remains.

"Original CSI couldn't make heads or tails of this, but he knew about you and he didn't want to screw anything up so he just called in the backup. He had to leave on another case so I guess it's just you and me."

Grissom had already blocked out the young officer's voice and offered only a grunt as acknowledgment that he had in fact heard him. He was no stranger to working cases solo and the fact that this case promised to be a challenge in his preferred field of study had him intrigued.

Due to the volume of creepy-crawlies covering a rotting corpse, Grissom expected the young cop to keep his distance and observe from within his car but he was surprised when he was instead followed to the scene. Apparently the two men shared an affinity for bugs and the officer introduced himself as Mike before asking that he be allowed to observe Grissom as he worked. Grissom didn't bother denying his request and was surprised to find that he really didn't mind the company. He thought out loud as he worked, both for his benefit and that of his new protégé and Mike never interrupted his thought pattern.

"I'm not surprised the last CSI was confused, this scene makes no sense from an entomological point of view." Grissom turned as he spoke and stood to stretch his knees. Mike faced him and listened closely as he spoke. "There're far too many species here, some of which should be long dead in order for the others to have arrived. I may have to take a few–"

Before he heard the shot he saw the blood come splattering from within Mike's skull and onto his shirt. He looked down and thought only that he would have a hell of a time getting those patterns out in the wash. As Mike fell to his knees Grissom's reflexes kicked in and he began reaching for his gun but before he could remove it from its holster a sharp pain above his eye forced the thought from his mind. He staggered back to a standing position in time to see a pale face before everything went black.

Grissom couldn't see for the black sack now pulled over his head and tied tightly around his neck but he could struggle, and he did. With every morsel of strength he had Grissom fought, squirmed and kicked against the man holding him but to no end. Within seconds he was shoved roughly into the trunk of a nearby vehicle and he soon felt the engine start and the gravely sand passing underneath four tires. It couldn't believe what was happening to him. How had things gone so wrong?

Sara rinsed her plate after finished a delicious waffle breakfast and turned to rest her hip against the counter. She was contemplating her next move when the shrill ringing of her cellular pulled her from her reverie. Hoping to hear Gil's voice she flipped it open immediately and answered happily. Her smile faded only slightly when she heard Nick's voice on the other line.

"Sara… you need to come in to the lab. It's Grissom … he's …he's been …"

Before Nick could finish his sentence Sara's smile was replaced with a look of sheer panic. She slammed her phone shut before falling to her knees on the cold, hard kitchen floor. "This can't be happening," she thought without breaking the suddenly sterile silence surrounding her.

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