SLOW BURN

~ Chapter 4 ~

A/N 1: My apologies for the delay with this chapter, life just seems to be conspiring against me at the moment when it comes to getting things done but I'll do everything I can to try and get this thing onto some sort of regular schedule.

Stepping out of the bright daylight glare, it took a few seconds for their eyes to adjust to the mall's lower light levels but, the moment they did, neither had any doubt as to where it was they were headed.

A crowd of people, a few laden with only a bag or two but most with shopping carts in tow had gathered around the yellow and black tape being used to demarcate one section of the concourse up ahead and, wending their way around those shoppers who clearly had neither the time nor inclination to watch the unexpected entertainment, Grissom and Catherine made a beeline to join them.

Pushing through the throng, Catherine smiled her thanks as the uniformed officer stationed on the scene's outer boundary raised the tape just high enough for them both to duck under and then, coming to a complete stop, she surveyed the area before her with the well-practiced eye of seasoned crime scene investigator.

The cordoned off area was approximately fifteen feet long by ten feet wide, not exactly huge but large enough to contain the payphone Sara had used, the white unmarked door that, Catherine surmised, led to the service corridor she'd found herself in, another door, this one clearly labeled as the entrance to the men's room and, finally, a long timber bench that was now being used as a worktable of sorts for this particular part of the investigation. A large black toolbox, very similar in size and shape to one that Catherine had used years earlier, sat open at one end of the bench while, at the other, CSI Mark Cronin sat, meticulously labeling the small collection of evidence bags and bindles before him.

The sudden appearance of two newcomers at his scene caused his head to come up and he broke into a warm smile at the woman standing before him.

"Hey, Boss." Quickly scribbling his signature on the small bag he was holding, Cronin tossed it down beside the others and pushed to his feet. "I take it this is your way of making sure that Days stays busy."

"Well, you know how it is," Catherine smiled in reply. "I've got to find some way to keep you on your toes." She glanced around. "So, where is she?"

"Sara'll be right back," Cronin cocked his head in the direction of the men's room door. "That's about the only place around here that doesn't have an audience so I sent her in with an old pair of coveralls and some evidence bags for the clothes that she's wearing." He gestured towards the bagged evidence behind him. "I've swabbed her hands and taken fingernail scrapings already; I'll get the rest of the processing done when she's finished in there."

"Having the victim collect evidence for you?" Catherine's eyebrows rose somewhat dubiously. "Not exactly protocol but, given the circumstances, I'll let you get away with it this time." Suddenly remembering introductions were in order, she turned towards Grissom. "Gil, meet Mark Cronin, CSI 3 from Days." She looked at Cronin. "Mark, this is-"

"Gil Grissom." He finished the sentence for her. "I kind of guessed as much when I saw the two of you standing there." He nodded towards Grissom. "I've been hearing stories about your time at the lab ever since I started there myself; it's a pleasure to finally meet you, sir."

"Thanks." Grissom gave the younger man a cursory nod before addressing Catherine. "We're going to need to swab her nose and mouth…" He thought for a moment. "And it might pay to run one over her eyes and cheeks too, there's bound to have been overspray."

"Anything else?" Catherine asked, thoroughly enjoying watching her old friend back at work.

"Blood draw, maybe?" He suggested, a single eyebrow arcing up in question. "If it's the stuff we think it is, it metabolizes quickly so it's probably a case of the sooner the better." He looked at Cronin. "Can you do that or do you want me to?"

"I can do it," Mark told him confidently. "You're thinking they used a chemical restraint?"

" Nothing else makes sense." Grissom commented simply.

"Well, one of the first things I noticed when we arrived here was that Sara's face is bare." He shrugged self-consciously. "I mean, she's not the type to wear a lot of makeup at work but she usually has some on and now there's nothing; no eye shadow, no mascara, not a thing."

Grissom frowned as he pondered the new information. "We were in a hurry to leave this morning and she did jump in the shower as soon as she got in from work but I know for a fact she put more on." He shook his head as he turned to look at Catherine. "He's cleaned her off."

"Whoever he is he obviously knows his stuff," she commented dryly before turning her attention back to Cronin. "What did Sara tell you? Is there anything she remembers?

"Not a thing." Cronin told them. "As far as she's concerned one minute she's sitting in the car and the next she's behind that door over there." He pointed towards the service corridor. "There's three stores that have rear doors opening up into that area for deliveries but it's primarily used for janitorial and storage purposes so there's not really a lot of traffic in there, especially during business hours." He shrugged. "I'm hoping that means good news for us when it comes to fingerprinting and we're also tracking down as much CCTV footage of this place as we can, the center has cameras inside and out and so do a lot of stores so, fingers crossed, we'll get to see whatever it was that went down."

"Mark, I-" Stepping out through the men's room door with a pair of brown paper sacks in one hand, Sara was mid-sentence when she looked up and, with absolutely no hesitation at all, dropped both bags and walked straight into her husband's arms.

"Thank God." Grissom wrapped his arms tightly around her as she pressed her face into his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"I am now." Lifting her head, Sara tried desperately to give him a reassuring smile but the tremulous one she managed let them all know just how much the day's ordeal had scared her. "Where's Ben? Is he okay?"

"He's fine," her husband quickly assured her. "Judy picked him up from The Galleria for us; he's probably annoying the hell out of Al as we speak."

"As long as he's safe, that's all I care about." A shiver ran along her spine and Sara trembled in her husband's arms.

"I promise you, honey, as far as Ben's concerned it's like nothing ever happened." Grissom tipped his head towards the timber bench. "Come and sit down for a while, okay?" He guided her across to the seat and watched anxiously as she lowered herself down. "Are you sure you're okay?" He quickly scanned her up and down. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"No, no, I'm good." Sara looked up with a weak but genuine grin. "I think it's just that finally having you here means that everything's really over and I can begin to relax." She shrugged. "But, of course, the minute I do that, all the 'what ifs" start running through my head." She nodded over towards the large group of avid onlookers. "Being the center of attention probably isn't helping either."

"We'll get you out of here as soon as we can." Leaning in, Catherine gave her a quick hug. "How about we get you something to eat and drink? I'm going to guess that it's been a while since you've had anything."

"Yeah." Placing one hand one on her stomach, Sara nodded her agreement. "That might be an idea."

"You want to go grab something, Gil?" Cocking her head towards the food outlets up ahead, Catherine took a seat on the bench beside Sara. "You'd know better than I would what to get her."

"Yeah, yeah, of course." Shifting his attention from his wife to Catherine and then back again, Grissom started to back away towards the waiting crowd. "I won't be long," he assured her quickly, his own unease at leaving her all too obvious. "Five minutes or so; you'll be alright?"

"I'll be fine." Sara smiled, calm restored and nerves settled now that she was safely surrounded by friends and colleagues. "I'm not going anywhere this time."

She watched him go; following his progress along the concourse as he bypassed a handful of vendors before stopping at one that he clearly thought would be more to her taste. She vaguely heard Catherine and Cronin talking, heard mention of swabs and syringes but paid no attention to any of it until Catherine leaned in with an almost-conspiratorial whisper.

"I know you already said that you were fine but did he touch you, Sara?" Keeping her voice as low as possible, Catherine shrugged apologetically. "I hate having to ask but I think it's a question that's better coming from me rather than Mark…" She paused for a moment. "Or Grissom."

"No," Sara shook her head. "I mean, I have no memory of what happened when I was gone but I'm fairly sure he didn't." She gestured over her shoulder towards the men's room. "I, uh, checked as best as I could when I was getting changed and-" Sara felt herself begin to blush; it was one thing being the investigator in this kind of situation but entirely different when you found yourself the victim. "Well, everything seems normal."

"Okay, well, that's good." Catherine offered her a relieved smile "We'll be running you up to Desert Palm to get looked over anyway so, no doubt, they'll double-check but that's good to hear anyway."

"I don't need to be checked over, Cath, honestly." Sara shook her head. "All I want to do is finish up here and then head home with my husband and son. Statements and questions can wait; I just want to be with my family."

"And if I could I'd let you but you know how it works, Sara; you can tell them you're fine until you're blue in the face but both the department and the lab are going to insist on medical reports so there's no getting out of it." Leaning in again, she winked conspiratorially. "And besides, it's not just you we need to check on now, is it?"

"He told you?" Her hand going automatically to her abdomen, Sara was clearly surprised.

"He had to tell someone." Catherine told her simply as she looked up and saw Grissom, a plastic cup in one hand and a tightly wrapped sandwich in the other, approaching. "He thought he'd lost you, Sara, you and your baby; he was never going to be able to keep that to himself."

Pushing to her feet, Catherine nodded determinedly at the younger woman. "Now, come on, the sooner we get finished here and then done at the hospital, the sooner we'll get you home where you belong."

"Then he nibbled a hole in the cocoon, pushed his way out and…" Reaching around the small body nestled comfortably in her lap, Sara turned to the final page. "He was a beautiful butterfly!"

"Yay!" Fingers stretched wide, Ben clapped his hands in delight. "Moh?"

"There is no more, baby." Closing the book, she held it in front of him. "We've read this story lots of times and this is always the end." Turning him sideways on her lap, she smiled to herself as his head found its customary resting place cradled against her breast. "We'll read some more tomorrow, okay?"

"No." Mouth set in a petulant moue, Ben took the book from his mother's hand and pulled it open again clearly determined that reading time was not over. "Moh."

"Mommy said more tomorrow and what Mommy says goes." Watching from the open doorway, Grissom fixed the toddler with a no-nonsense glare. "She's tired and needs to get some rest and you…" Approaching the old timber rocking chair Sara had insisted on installing in the corner of the bedroom, he tugged playfully at his son's pajama-clad leg. "… are up way past your bedtime."

"My fault, not his." Tightening her hold on the boy, Sara gently nuzzled the side of his neck, an action that elicited instant giggles. "Today, especially, I'd planned on spending the whole afternoon with him and, instead, all I managed was a couple of hours."

"You've got tomorrow too, you know," Grissom commented softly as he leaned over and dropped an almost chaste kiss on top of his wife's head. "And every day after that as well." Placing the crumpled paper sack he'd been carrying on the small bookcase beside her, he squatted down by the side of the chair and wrapped his arms around both her and their son. "We're all together, we're all safe and that's exactly how we're going to stay."

Letting them go again, he pushed back to his feet with a wince of discomfort. "And, before Ben goes to sleep, I think he really ought to give you this." Retrieving the bag, he slipped his hand inside and pulled out a small gift-wrapped box. "In all the excitement today, I almost forgot about it; I was carrying it when I got back to the car and shoved it in Ben's bag when I reached in to get him out."

Taking it from him with a smile, Sara slipped her finger beneath the single strip of tape holding the smart navy blue and silver wrapping paper together and peeled it back to reveal a small black leather box sheathed in a thin band of glossy white cardboard. She held it in the palm of her hand for a moment then looked up, clearly bemused.

"Open it," Grissom urged. "I wanted to get something for Ben to give you to mark his adoption; something beautiful that would last both of your lifetimes and something meaningful that could, hopefully, be passed down to the next generation."

With her son leaning more and more heavily against her chest, she carefully slid the cardboard free, noting the jeweler's name embossed in simple gold lettering across the top.

"Underwood, huh?" One eyebrow arced in question as Sara read the word aloud. "The same jeweler that replicated your wedding band."

"Well, he did a good job with that so I figured I could trust him with this," Grissom answered as he watched his wife pull open the box.

"Oh, my God!" Usually not one for blurted exclamations, Sara couldn't help herself as the pendant came into view. "Oh Gil, it's beautiful."

The princess cut emerald had been set on point and surrounded on all four sides by channel-set diamond baguettes; an eighteen carat white gold chain completed the piece and it sparkled brightly against the deep black velvet it was resting on.

Despite the fact that he had been half dozing, Ben made a lightning-fast grab for the box and it's rather expensive contents, an action that was quickly forestalled by his father. "Uh-uh, buddy." Grissom shook his head as he placed the little boy's hand back in his lap. "She's already seen it so there's no point in trying to take it back now."

Keeping a restraining hand on Ben's arm, he turned his attention back to his wife.

"I know you don't like fussy jewelry so I told him it had to be something that was simple but beautiful and this is what he came up with." Both relieved that she liked the pendant and anxious to have her understand his motivation, Grissom dove into a hurried explanation of the piece. "Emerald is Ben's birthstone so that, naturally, takes centre stage but the diamonds are actually from the two of us; part of their meaning is purity and innocence so that's obviously him but they also stand for love and fidelity and that is from me, with thanks as well, for taking him on the way that you have and making him your own." He shrugged, self-consciously. "And for giving me another chance too, I guess; I know there are a lot of women out there who would have walked away without a second thought the moment I turned up here with a baby in tow."

"Well, as far as I'm concerned, they'd have been idiots," Sara replied with utter conviction. She pressed a feather-light kiss to her weary son's hair before leaning forward to catch her husband's lips with her own. "That's one decision I have never regretted and I never will; I love you, I love Ben and this…" she held the open pendant box up between them. "... couldn't be more perfect." She sat back again and grinned happily. "Thank you both so much."

"You're more than welcome." Pleased with her happiness and more that a little relieved that the subject of price hadn't come up, Grissom nodded towards the little boy. "You want a hand putting him in bed?"

"No, I'll do it in a couple of minutes." Extracting the now forgotten storybook from her son's lax fingers, she placed it down on top of the bookcase before gently setting the rocker into motion. "I'll make sure he's properly asleep before I leave him and maybe that way we won't be woken up with a midnight visit."

"That is becoming a habit, isn't it?" Turning slightly, Grissom looked over at the sturdy timber crib his son had occupied ever since he'd bought him home from the hospital and had been happily clambering his way out of almost every night for the past week or so. "Think it's time for an actual bed?"

"I'm pretty sure that's what he's trying to tell us." Sara lowered his voice slightly as Ben roused a little before relaxing into her hold again. "Since Catherine's given me the rest of the week off it might be a good chance to do it now and get him settled."

"Well…" Leaning into the crib, Grissom pulled down the bedding so it would be ready for Ben's pending arrival. "I guess it won't be too long before someone else is needing this thing so yeah, we'll see to that this week." He stood upright again and smiled softly at his wife. "I'm going to head to the kitchen and make us some dinner and then, after that, I think we ought to hit the hay too; it's been a long day for all of us." He cocked his chin at their son. "You sure you'll be all right?"

"Absolutely." Sara assured him with an answering smile as she continued to rock back and forth cradling their son. "Now that I'm where I'm supposed to be, I'll be perfectly fine."

An hour later, with the warm solidity of her husband's body behind her, one of his hands lying protectively over the barely perceptible swell of her abdomen and the fingers of the other tracing lazy circles around the open palm of her hand, Sara relaxed in the comfort and security of her own bed. They'd left one bedside lamp on - more as a beacon for a wandering Ben than anything else - and the lowered light level coupled with the gentle touches were lulling her to sleep.

"I've been thinking."

The words snapped her back to full consciousness and, smiling softly, she couldn't help but tease. "Nothing new there then."

"True," Grissom conceded, his breath so close to the back of her neck that he felt a shiver run through her. "But this time it's about that house we saw in Anthem."

"You mean the one we both loved right up until one of us caught sight of the – and I quote – 'nightmare of a backyard' and couldn't get out of there fast enough?" Sara asked wryly.

"Yeah, that's the one." Amused by her description, he smiled. "I checked the realtor's website earlier and it's still on the market so I think we should go back for another viewing."

"Really?" Surprised by the unexpected change of heart, Sara turned around to face him. "You do remember the place needs a new kitchen, right?"

"Uh-huh." Grissom nodded in the semi-dark of the room.

"And the entire interior has been painted that disgusting shade of yellow?"

"Yep." He confirmed with a nod. "But that's what contractors are for." One shoulder rose in a quick dismissive shrug. "Kitchens and painting aren't that big a deal, if anything we'll put our own stamp on the place by getting them done the way that we want them and we can factor in some of the cost of that work when it comes to making an offer."

"And the yard?" Sara asked dubiously, still not entirely sure he was serious.

"Is overgrown with every single plant you don't want growing in your garden if you've got kids." He conceded. "But a decent landscape gardener will take care of that for us." He sighed. "And, hopefully, they can put us in touch with a reliable pool service too and someone to fence the damned thing in."

"You know, if having a pool is really going to be that big an issue for you-"

"It's not, honestly, it's just something that I'd never really considered before." Grissom shrugged. "But, it's something that, I imagine, the kids are going to love growing up with in their backyard." He narrowed his eyes. "You do still want to move, right? I mean, that is still the plan?"

"Yes, definitely." Propping her head up on her bent arm, Sara nodded with absolute conviction. "As much as I love this house, we're going to need more room and, despite that fact that the Anthem place needs some work, I thought it fitted the bill better than any of the others we looked at but," she cocked her head. "I don't want either one of us to end up settling on a house simply because we think the other wants it."

"I wouldn't be settling, Sara," he told her honestly. "I liked it, you liked it and, provided we can get it for a price we're both happy with, I think we ought to go for it."

"And security wise?" Both of her eyebrows rose in question. "Does that have any bearing on this sudden change of heart?"

"Maybe a little." Grissom grudgingly admitted. "After all, being in a cul-de-sac instead of on a long road like this place means there'll be neighbors around to keep an eye out for strangers plus it has block walls on both sides and along the back so that would only leave the front accessible and there are multiple positions available for security cameras and the like."

"Not that you've given that aspect of it much thought, huh?" Sara offered him a small smile. "We can't buy a house simply because it's a safer option, Gil."

"Sure we can if it's the right house for us." He nodded. "And, the more that I think about it, the more convinced I am that it is." Reaching out, he ran his a finger lightly up her arm. "But we don't have to make a decision about that tonight; we'll call the realtor tomorrow and make an appointment to go see it again."

He helped her turn around again and waited until she'd got herself settled before, once again, drawing her in against his chest.

"So, what do you think that was today?"

She'd said it quietly and at first wasn't sure that he'd heard but his slow intake of breath as he pondered the question told her otherwise.

"You know, I wish I knew." He unconsciously tightened his arm around her as if to ward of unseen dangers. "Catherine had a couple of theories she told me about as we were driving north to get you; one was that it was all a case of mistaken identity which, given the location of your release and the fact that whoever it was that took you made sure that you had my cell number, isn't going to hold water." He breathed in and then out again before continuing. "The other one was that it was someone playing a game and I think I'm leaning more towards that explanation than anything else." She felt him shrug. "Why else would they have let you go so quickly?"

"And unharmed," Sara added. "What would be the point of it though? What on earth would they be hoping to achieve?"

"I don't know, fear probably," Grissom guessed. "Letting us know that they're there and can do something like they did today - or worse - and there's nothing we can do about it. However, the problem with posturing like that is it gives us the chance to go on the defensive, to make sure that we do everything possible to counter the threat that they're making."

"Like moving house and turning the new one into a fortress?" Sara asked softly

"If necessary, yes." Looking past her to the framed photograph of Ben she kept on her bedside table and the new twelve-week scan of the baby that she'd propped up beside it, Grissom tightened his hold on his wife even further. "My family means the world to me, honey and I will make sure that both you and our children stay safe and protected if it's the last thing I do."

A/N 2: Anyone out there with kids will, I sure, recognize the book that Sara and Ben were reading in this chapter but, just in case someone didn't (and to stop me being sued), it's Eric Carle's The Very Hungry Caterpillar.

Thanks as always to the freshly tanned SylvieT for the beta