One week later

Grissom's cell phone trilled. "Grissom," he said by way of greeting.

"Hey, it's me," Sara replied.

"Oh, hi. How did the court appearance go?" After going over the case notes of the rape Sara had been investigating, he had managed to find several miniscule discrepancies in the suspect's evidence, small enough to be overlooked, but important enough to secure a conviction if they were found.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about." She sounded upset.

"Is everything okay?"

"Are you free now?" she asked, answering his question with one of her own.

"Uh, sure. I'm at home, I managed to finish all my paperwork. What should time I expect you?"

"I'm just sorting out a couple of things over this side, and then I think it's a fifteen or twenty-minute journey over to you."

"I'll see you in short while then."

Grissom didn't know what to expect when Sara arrived. For all he knew, he may have just imagined her distress, or she may have had time to compose herself, or she may be a wreck. His face betrayed his confused mind-set when he opened the door to her roughly half an hour later.

"You okay?" Sara asked, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. She stepped into the immaculate apartment. "Jeez, this is even tidier than when I was last here," she commented, taking a seat on his couch.

"I wasn't sure how you'd be feeling. You sounded kind of distressed when I spoke to you on the phone. Can I get you anything?" he added, his manners catching up with him.

"Could I have a coffee, please?" She waited for him to re-enter the living room from the kitchen. He took a seat next to her.

"So, what happened?"

"I was just a bit emotional when I called, that was all. We managed to secure a conviction, and it came to light from one of the other 'experts' there that this guy had been reported for spousal abuse before. Something that we weren't able to access in the records, I don't know why. So, with his past cautions, and a couple of prior offences. He'd changed his name, so he didn't come up on any of the searches we did back at the lab. So, like I said, I was just relieved we managed to get him put away."

Grissom nodded, digesting the information she had given him. "How long did he get?"

Here, Sara became troubled. "Only ten years, and that was because he showed no remorse and had a bad record."

"Don't worry," he said. "Ironically enough, most convicts are 'decent' enough to despise child abusers and rapists. News of his crimes will spread, so I should imagine his fellow felons will take a dislike to him."

"Yeah, but what about his wife? She can file for divorce, but while he's alive, he can find her. When he gets out, and we can't forget that if he shows sign of rehabilitation he'll get out early, he'll go looking for her, silence the mouth that talked."

Grissom read her thoughts. "You think she would have been better off if she had taken the law into her own hands and killed him herself?"

Sara's cheeks reddened in anger. "How can you say that?" she stormed. "It's not taking the law into her own hands, it's self-defence. Have you ever been in the situation where you have been in so much personal danger that you will do anything to protect your life? That's the sort of extreme survival instinct when you're thinking about defended yourself, not killing another person. If your attacker dies as a result of that, then that's tough."

He sat back in surprise, not quite prepared for a full-blown 'Sidle Tsunami,' as one or two of her fellow CSIs had named her bursts of bad temper. "Sara, I wasn't trying to imply that she would be taking the law into her own hands, I used the wrong terminology. And of course I understand that survival instinct. I've never experienced it myself, but I guess it's the same thing that drove your mom to …."

"Don't, Grissom," she warned.

"Don't what? If you want a debate about it, I'm fine with that. If not, tough, 'cause you were the one who

brought it up."

"Don't you dare bring my past into this."

"How can I not? It's what caused you to pull three triple shifts on this case. I'm not judging you," he declared. "But that's how you feel, isn't it?"

"What's how I feel? Like I'm being judged, disapproved of?"

"No, actually. I meant, you do feel like that rape victim should have turned on her husband and killed him. And I don't blame you. But I think I know why you feel conflicted."

"Go on then." Let him psychoanalyse her. She had the goods on him.

"After the sort of domestic abuse you witnessed, you imagined what it was like for this victim, and wished that she could empower herself. The only problem is, she could, like your mother, get sent away for psychiatric evaluation to a lock-down ward, because she's been tagged 'armed and dangerous,' if you'll excuse my terminology," he simultaneously explained and apologised. "She's already going to be mentally, and most probably physically damaged from her domestic encounters, and the lock-down isn't going to make her feel much better about herself. It's a Catch-22 - she rids herself of an abusive husband, but she's locked away because society's to damned lazy to give a shit about her when her husband was alive and beating her half to death." Grissom tried to relax as he finished speaking, aware that his blood pressure was in danger of shooting up suddenly.

Sara looked at him, understanding now what he was trying to say, knowing that he felt just as emotional about it as she did. "That's pretty much it, yeah," she agreed quietly. "But if we're going in at the deep end on the psychoanalysis front, there's a couple of things I wanna say about you."

Grissom nodded cautiously. "It sounds fine, but you'll be able to tell if you've hit a nerve. Just be prepared if I freeze up."

"It's nothing too personal. I just wanted to say that I know you and Lady Heather almost had something."

"This? For God's sakes, that was three years ago!"

"Shut up. I let you finish, it's my turn now. I think I know why nothing happened between you. She was very good at sussing people out, I've been told. I think that she got right to the bottom of your psyche and told you all the things you'd rather not think about in regards to yourself. I bet she saw some kind of animal that hides behind a veil of tranquillity, so to speak. And you couldn't cope with that. Firstly, you'd rather remain a mystery to any partner you had. It's probably why you're not married - you couldn't cope with somebody either knowing all your secrets, or having to bring them out in the open. Secondly, she was a dominatrix - two dominant partners don't make for a satisfying sex life." She finished, and shrugged in understatement. "That's all."

Grissom considered this. "How did you know about all of that?"

"I have my sources. But I wanted you to know that I do analyse things, not just myself. I thought you might wanna know that I had a bit of insight into your soul. Of course, I can only describe your mechanism, I wouldn't be able to tell in a million years what drives it."

"Sounds like the coffee's ready," he said, relieved for a change in subject.

Sara wasn't surprised at his discomfort. If there was one thing Grissom valued, it was the boundary he set up around himself. "I'm sorry about just now," she apologised when he returned with their drinks. "I crossed a boundary that should have remained uncharted."

"That's okay" Grissom replied, feeling as if it didn't actually matter that much. "I suppose after keeping walls up for all these years, they're slowly beginning to crumble. Maybe I should let someone get close."

Sara tried to avoid his penetrating glance. "I booked the flight for California yesterday," she said.

"Oh, good. What's going to happen"

"The flight is eight in the evening next Wednesday."

"If you don't mind me asking, what exactly are the arrangements in regards to your mom?" He skirted the direct line of questioning, hoping not to offend Sara.

"She is back home," Sara replied. "She served five years for killing my father. The psychiatric ward said that the only mental problems she had were a direct result of the abuse she suffered. She had to serve time for committing murder, but they cut down the time due to mitigating circumstances."

"If she was abused, then why couldn't they throw the case out all together?"

"That's what I want to know. Along with what he actually used to do to her, and what she did to him. Because I know she wasn't an entirely innocent party, she could be just as vicious as my father."

"So if she's out, where is she now?"

"She got a little two-bedded apartment in some obscure place near LA. She wouldn't go back to Tahoe, not with those memories." Sara felt that she was in danger of becoming misty-eyed.

Grissom moved closer to her. "You wanna talk about any of those memories?"

"Not really," she said, smiling to prevent herself from crying. "Not yet, anyway."

"It's not weak to cry, you know," he whispered, longing to reach out and hold her. "It's okay to let it out once in a while."

"Yeah, but it's something that seems to be happening more often at the moment," she told him.

"If it's something that wants to come out, maybe you should let it," he pressed.

"What the hell must you think of me?" she cried out in desperation. "What the fuck do I look like to you?"

Grissom overcame his fear instincts and put an arm around her. "You look like someone who is in desperate need of someone to talk to. I get the feeling you're awfully lonely."

"And alone," she added, trying to keep her composure, pressed against his side.

"Remember what I told you last week," he reminded her.