heya, new chapter

Disclaimer: I own nothing, just playing with the characters. And the lyrics I used are from the song "Hurt" written/ performed by N.I.N

A/N: big thank you to fredchester and xxxsarasbutterflyxxx for reviewing the last review and for reviewing often...its really great. This is a flashback chapter and it's got flashback and thats in italics. The really long flashback isfrom nesting dolls.I wish I could update sooner than I have, but I am in a writingmood so I might write a chapter tonight and post it tommorrow.Its really long too...sorry... The next chapter is flashback chapter also but it will be shorter and then after that more sara...yay! I miss writing her.

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Grissom was waiting for results in his office. He was soaking up the details of the surroundings and found it tasted like weak, warm tears. He realised how blue his space was.

His space pervaded with entomology, mythology and mysticism, a blue dreamscape and sense of oriental magic, shimmering with seductively radiant colour. The thoughts of what everyone else thought about Sara's whereabouts was running through Gil's mind as well as thoughts the case which hovered in some recess of his mind and a small, slow dulling ache was beginning to grow and swell. Gil had counteracted everyone's statements, sometimes with looks, sometimes with words and sometimes with 'dramatic exits' as Greg put it.

"Maybe she is just ill."

"Then she would have called in sick."

Sara Sidle didn't get sick, she wouldn't allow it and she would still drag herself to work but refuse to work in the field in case she sneezed and contaminated anything.

"Maybe she just took of. It would be so typical of her to do a thing like that."

Gil cast a stricken, angry and sparkling look, behind the blue eyes, a glimpse of life is there that is gradually and painfully burning away. Gil knew Sara wouldn't do that without telling anyone. But then he questioned himself, did he know Sara that well at all. Maybe she did tell someone, someone who wasn't a part of his world that was involved in Sara's world but a completely separate place.

"Maybe it was a family emergency?"

The entomologist nodded and he left quickly, knowing that she didn't have any family; her father was physically dead and Gil assume that her would be emotionally dead, prison changes people, especially when you go to prison after protecting your daughter from abuse. Unless Laura Sidle was the abuser, in that case she would have gone to prison for protecting her daughter from the beauty and love in the world.

"Maybe she felt she was getting too emotionally involved and took a few days off. The case was really getting to her."

Gil knew that she wasn't becoming involved, just semi-attached. And even if she was, they had talked, sorted it out between them like adults, like friends. Sara had actually displayed very little emotion during the case, her face had an uncanny look of ennui, isolation, and calculated detachment and this scared him so much the he flushed when ever she caught him looking at her. She looked as though she had felt unsafe in her own body.

"Maybe she finally got sick of Grissom…making her work on all the crap cases…and treating her like crap…before the Homicide she is on now, she had worked on 4 B&E's, straight."

Grissom looked at the two people from dayshift discussing things they couldn't possibly understand. He left quickly before they turned there backs, before they saw that Grissom had human emotion. On his was to moving quickly to his secluded office Greg had greeted him. His answer was the slamming of the door.

Grissom came to his own conclusion; maybe she is lying dead somewhere. He didn't believe it slightly, not because it was a possibility, just because it seemed so extreme to think of Sara as…not alive.

Gil looked up at the clock and it read 1:57, Gil hadn't seen her for three days now.

The sun had risen and was climbing up the sky. Catherine and Warrick stood close to each other, precious and their own bubble; a phallic shaped union. They kept smiling at each other and the happiness they felt whenever their lips spread was like the splattering, burbling and dancing of water of a fountain. The height difference was clear-cut and so was the line between masculinity and femininity. The ridged, harsh forms of Warrick's shirt stood out; rectangles of the sliver collar, the black oblong trousers. In comparison, Catherine wore soft features of colourful, slightly ornamental and curved elements. Her back curved, beckoning a soft, sweet gesture and she pulled out her hair clasp. The burnt blonde hair rippled out and the golden halo of happiness, the aura of love surrounds, unites and isolates them. Gil felt bad for interrupting them.

"Hey Catherine,"

The union between Warrick and Catherine split quickly and cool professionalism returned.

"Hey Gil, what's up?"

"I just wanted to let you know I am going so you two will be the only ones from nightshift still here."

"How come…What time is it…Oh…" Warrick had shown her his watch.

"How time flies." She laughed. "You doing anything today?" Catherine waiting to hear the trademark elusive answer, yet it didn't come. But she wasn't surprised at his answer either.

"I'm gonna check in on Sara. Then sleep."

"Tell her I said hi and if she is ill, tell I hope she feels better."

"Yeah, tell her that from me too."

"Sure, see you guys tonight." he replied politely and left after the briefest smile

"Will do." Catherine called after him, her voice chasing in to his ears.

"And the day after that," she breathed as Warrick back next to her, completing a tower-like shape.

"And the day after that…"

It was going to be a beautiful day in Las Vegas. Red skies in the morning meant nothing anyone here. He was sat in his car, waiting to for the lights to change green.

Gil played with his the radio, listening for traffic report. However a single, dull and loud, repeating note of a piano played, accompanied with a tired, aged voice which sung the words, "Everyone I know, goes away in the end,"

Gil saw the transformation of red to green and he turned left, he had ignored the music until

"I will let you down, I will make you hurt." He blinked a few times as if reassuring himself he wasn't hallucinating, and then his face hardened into a harsh scowl as if the radio was some how mocking him. His finger quickly pressed the music off, briefly touching the plastic.

Gil stood outside and looked up.

"Well, there is my apartment. Right there."

Sara's car was still present, had been in the same spot for the last three days, but Gil didn't know this yet. Its black bonnet was not warm; the sun had not touched it yet as it was parked in shadows. Grissom looked back at the open and heavy gates, he had read that they closed at two in the morning and didn't open until 6 am. It seemed a waste of metal if they were only shut for four hours. There was a sense of irony about where Sara lived. The name 'Sara' meant 'princess' and her apartment was in the tallest building around and the highest room. He had visited once in all the years she had lived in Las Vegas.

She had stopped crying, but he hadn't let go of her hand until she excused herself to go to her bathroom. He sat for several minuets until he got up to check on her. He hovered near the white door she had closed and then moved away from it, letting her have a small private cry. He moved away and realised that this apartment could not belong to anyone else but Sara. It demonstrated her vigour and independence, her virtuosity and brilliance. There were many things of personal relevance.

There was a shelf dedicated to photograph frames. There was a single portrait of Greg placed in a chunky sliver framed holder. Almost anybody would love Greg and loving people like Greg was easy. The five years of oral hell, had given a smile that paradise would envy. His eyes seemed darker against the ivory white of his shirt. He was sat in Grissom's chair, leg over one of the arms, toasting with his flute to the photographer. The 'you passed' sign could be seen on Grissom's desk. A larger than normal one was of Nick, Warrick and Catherine, from Nick's birthday. It was post sunset. Nightshift had gone to a restaurant, just outside Pahrump. Catherine with flowing red hair made her look so stunning, she was an amazing woman, through and through, inside and out. Men turned their heads, eyes following her. But she only had eyes for Warrick. Mooneyes. Warrick wore a light blue shirt that dramatically contrasted with Nick's butter-soft black pin striped jacket. He wasn't there, enclosed in a frame. There were several photos of people he didn't recognise. He felt stupid when he realised that one of the unrecognized females, was actually Sara. She was smiling and younger.

He looked out of her window. It was beautiful and the silence of the room made it sublime. His mind drifted to a tranquil state. It was another six minuets before his ears pricked up at the click of Sara shutting the door. He didn't turn his head but he watched her hazy reflection seem startled at his presence, as if she had expected him to have gone. She moved to her kitchen area.

The silence remained until Sara said,

"Tea?"

He nodded and after a few minuets of rattling, Sara stood beside him, looking out. Silent.

"I chose this place for the view. Always have to have a room with a view. Here." She passed him the blue cup without looking at him. He took it and said "thank you," without looking at her. He took a large sip.

He watched her, both the reflection and out of the corner of his eye.

Sara looked down at her own cup and turned away, her shoulders slumped, her chin down to her chest, hair hiding her face. She placed her cup down with such force, the milky liquid spilled over the edges.

He needed to get on a rollercoaster after he left.

His eyes were very clear and direct as he knocked upon Sara's door. He needed to see her like he needed his next breath. When there was no reply, he tried the door handle, calling her name even louder. There was nothing. He banged on the door. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the wood. His stomach muscles were about to clenched when a woman shouted from about five feet in front of him;

"What are you doing making all that Goddamn noise?"

"Sorry, I am Gil Grissom, I am with the Las Vegas Crime Lab-."

"I'm Erin Lebowizt. There, we're introduced, now shut the hell up."

The woman walked off, muttering about something…about a boyfriend?

"Excuse me, can I ask you a few questions?"

"Sure, so long as you don't make anymore noise" the women went back to her door and leaned back on the doorframe. Grissom followed her. She looked back, smiling at something or someone.

"I've got a little girl."

Gil made an 'o' shape with his mouth. Erin thought he was very nonchalant.

"So what do you want to ask me?"

"When was the last time you saw the women who lives in that apartment?"

"About three days ago."

"At what time?"

"Evening, about seven."

"You muttered something about a boyfriend?"

"Well, I think he was her boyfriend. Been around here a few times, shouted at him too for making noise."

"Can you describe him?"

Gil asked several more questions and he left feeling something he couldn't name. He leaned against his car, waiting for Catherine to pick up on the end of the other line.

"Hey Catherine…yeah she is not there… her car is still here but she hasn't been seen by her neighbour for three days…and…I gotta call you back."

The gleaming surface of the plastic orange burnt in the rays of the sun. Grissom knelt down beside it, and poked away the grass with his pen, not disturbing the container. He wanted to snatch it up and see if it was what he thought and resisting that demanded tremendous control and his was slipping.

Vitamin tablets.

A stupid, worthless, meaningless, futile container of pathetic vitamin tablets prescribed for S. Sidle. He went back to call Catherine, it was now officially a crime scene.

thanks for reading

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