A/N: I know these chapters are really short and weird, but I'm trying something different...they'll get longer. I'll add some plot, I swear! ;) And btw, the names of the chapters are songs. They aren't completely random.

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The ceiling was gray. The walls were gray. It was loud. It was blurry. Sara blinked, and felt sand on her eyelashes. Her mouth was like a dry sponge, like sandpaper. Every cell in her throat seemed to be shrinking, crying for water. She blinked once more and began to see the outlines of shapes. Someone was holding her hand. Someone in a black vest. Grissom. Sara kept her eyes on his vest for a very long time, just to make sure she wasn't misreading it. She felt him watching her before she even looked up, and when she did finally turn her eyes to him she felt her thirst cease, a little. If she tore her eyes from his, she knew she would fall away. But he didn't look away, and neither did she, and she was flying. There was a weight on her forehead, and it was cold, freezing out every thought of death. It was as if he was feeding her life energy through the warmth of his hand and the expression in his eyes. Sara wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, saying I love you silently over the persistent hum that surrounded her ears. But eventually the humming began to quiet, and Grissom's body began to blur around the edge. She stared at him a little more desperately, willing herself not to close her eyes. Was he saying her name? She couldn't tell. The warmth in her hand began to lessen. Her vision began to darken. And then she was back in her hotel room, clutching at the bedspread.

Sara shut her eyes tightly, but the pastel walls of the hotel room wouldn't disappear, and the sounds of the wind wouldn't give way for the strange humming. Finally she opened her eyes and propped herself up on her elbow, untangling her hand from the bedspread. It was sweaty. She sighed and wiped both hands against her jeans before running a hand through her hair. This was not the place to have nightmares. She could do that anywhere. The cobwebs of sleep still cluttering her mind, Sara stood unsteadily and walked toward her suitcase. She had tucked a map, dog-eared with nervous fiddling, into the first pocket. But before she could touch the zipper, the vibration of her cell phone called for her so suddenly that it was almost as if she herself were shuddering. She didn't have to check the ID to know who was calling.

"Sara?" he asked before she could utter a word.

"Gil." Her tongue felt rusty, as though she hadn't said his name in years.

"Sara, can you hear me?"

Sara frowned and pulled the phone from her ear. Full signal.

"I'm here. I can hear you. Can you hear me?"

"Sara?" He sounded urgent.

She repeated his name without success, inordinately annoyed. Why her cell phone didn't work was beyond comprehension. She didn't snap her phone shut until she heard the unrelenting beep of the dial tone. And even when Sara set it back on the bedside table, the beeping seemed to linger in her ears like a mosquito. She didn't call him back.

Slowly, Sara made her way back into the bathroom and unwrapped one of those little hotel room plastic cups with shaking hands. She thought of sand in her mouth, and the dryness in her throat, so that the sound of the tap water was almost unbearable. She filled the cup quickly and drank it down twice, three times. Again. Sara set the cup down biting her lip to keep from crying out. She was still thirsty. Still thirsty.