Sara wheeled herself into the elevator, closely followed by Grissom. "Thank you for coming," she said, looking up at him. "I wouldn't have been able to do it without you."

"That's a lie and you know it," Grissom replied with a smile. "You wouldn't have let anything defeat you in that room."

Sara returned the smile. "Thank you all the same."

"It's my pleasure. Genuinely."

The elevator jolted to a halt, interrupting a silent moment between the two colleagues and friends. As the doors opened Sara caught sight of a man kneeling besides her front door. "Hey!" she called out. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" The man looked up, confused. Sara wheeled herself into the corridor; Grissom had to maintain a quick walking pace in order to keep up. She expected the man to get up and run but to her surprise he merely stood and watched her approach. As Sara got closer, Nick emerged from her apartment. The look on his face worried her.

"Nick?" she queried. "What's going on?"

Sensing her anxiety Nick aimed to reassure her. "Everything's fine, I promise."

"Then what are you doing in my apartment? And who's this?" She turned angrily to the confused looking man standing in her doorway, with a box of tools sitting at his feet. He stared at her wheelchair before his gaze shifted to her right leg, or lack of it. For once Sara did not berate him for doing so but instead pushed past the two men into her apartment. Looking around she saw everything was intact. She turned to look at Nick.

He gazed back apologetically. "I think we better talk."

I I I I I

Brass had been unable to go home. There was too little to distract him there. Nothing to stop him wallowing in self pity, as Nick had astutely pointed out he had a habit of doing. Hence it was sitting in his office, indomitably sorting through a pile of papers, that Grissom found him.

"Gil," Brass greeted him. "What can I do for you?" He maintained a polite smile, hoping desperately that there was another reason for his visit than the one he was expecting.

"We need to talk, Jim."

"I don't think so."

"I do." Grissom sat down on a chair on the other side of Brass's desk. "You need to visit Sara."

"Not you as well? I've told Nick and Catherine that I will as soon as I have a moment."

"So you had a moment this morning?"

Brass began to shuffle through a pile of statements on his desk. "I don't need to talk about that."

"You do."

"It was a stupid mistake. I panicked."

"Maybe you should tell Sara that."

Brass looked up at Grissom. "Why would she want to see me? First I nearly kill her and leave her without a leg and then I break into her apartment. What could she possibly have to say?"

"She doesn't blame you for anything, Brass. No one does. Except you."

"Unfortunately I'm the hardest person to battle with."

"You spoke to her at the hospital and that was alright."

"Alright!" Brass laughed harshly. "I could barely look her in the eye, Gil. Every time I did I saw the fact that her life would never be the same because of me. She was so calm…so forgiving. I don't deserve that."

"Surely that's up to me."

The sound of Sara's voice startled Brass. He looked up to see her wheeling herself through the door. The sight of her wheelchair shocked him. "Sara, I-"

"I thought you two should speak," Grissom interrupted, by means of explanation. "I'll leave you alone."

I I I I I

Grissom was mulling over a case with a cup of tea when Catherine walked in. "I hear Sara's here."

"She's talking to Jim."

"About time."

"Yes." He looked up sadly. "I never thought he might have a worse reaction to this than Sara. It just didn't occur to me."

"Guilt can do horrible things, Gil." Grissom nodded. "How's Sara?" Catherine enquired. "Nick told me she had a physiotherapy appointment today."

"I don't know how she does it," Grissom replied. Catherine detected the tinges of admiration and warmth in his voice. "She's so strong. You should have seen her today – she refused to give in until she could walk the length of the room unaided."

"That's Sara for you."

"I just hope her attitude can rub off on Jim."

I I I I I

"How can you face me, Sara?" Brass asked. "After everything I've done?"

"We've been through this," Sara sighed. "You did nothing except your duty. It was my risk to take."

"But-"

Sara interrupted. "I have not got the energy to fight with you all over again, Jim." She smiled weakly at him. "You want the truth?"

"Of course."

"I had my physiotherapy appointment today. It hurt so much I could barely stand. But I kept going because I don't want Grissom to worry. My head is a mess. Everyone thinks I'm so strong but I'm not really. I'm not sleeping. I can't bring myself to eat. All I want is to come to work and carry on as normal but I can't. I want to get out of bed and walk to the bathroom but I can't. I want to climb out of this stupid chair but I can't!" Sara's eyes were filling with tears now. Brass gazed at her, unable to find any words. "I don't want anyone to know. Except now I've told you. And I can't be strong unless you are. Call me selfish, but I feel like I have enough to worry about without having to worry about you."

"You worry about me?" Brass could not believe what he was hearing.

"I worry about you worrying about me." Sara managed a small laugh, using the back of her hand to scrub tears from her face. "And I'd rather not have to."

"I didn't realise."

"That I'd rather not?"

"That you were worrying about me. I'm sorry."

Sara smiled, her tears drying up. "Now you ask me what you can do for me."

Brass looked straight into her eyes. "What can I do for you?"

"Actually there are two things." Brass nodded without a sound. "Stop blaming yourself. Please. This is not your fault. Enough hurt has been caused through this accident without guilt getting the better of you."

"Ok." Brass did not drop eye contact as he agreed.

"Are you sure? Because we went through this before." Sara needed confirmation.

"I promise."

Sara nodded, businesslike. "The second thing; you do not tell anyone what I have said to you in here. Especially Grissom. He thinks I'm coping and I want him to go on thinking that. He's already wearing himself out supporting me. If he heard what I've told you he would never leave my side. I don't want him to become the next casualty of the accident."

"Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Coping."

Sara averted her gaze and focused on her lap. "That's beside the point."

"Not to my mind it isn't."

"I'm fine."

"Really?"

"You know, I think there's a third thing," Sara replied.

"What's that?"

"Don't worry about me."