Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: I know it has been awhile for an update. I'd had this on my computer for awhile but I wasn't pleased with it. I'm so so so sorry for the delay in updates. The next one will not take as long. I'm trying to get back into a routine with my fanfics but, though, it's October, I'm still adjusting to my school schedule. Please enjoy!

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Grissom was sitting at Sara's bedside, waiting for her eyes to open. He pushed away any thoughts in his mind, his complete focus on the person who held his heart. His fingers lightly stroked her cheek as he watched her intently. His touch seemed to rouse her because her eyes fluttered opened after a short time, blinking a few times and then focusing on him. His fingers wrapped around hers a little tighter than before. As the foggy haze in her mind began to lift, she remembered clearly the events that had played out earlier.

"Hey," Grissom said lightly, trailing his fingers down her cold cheek.

"Gil?" she asked, question in her voice though she knew it was him who was at her side.

"Yes, sweetheart," he said. He drew his arm carefully around her shoulders to pull her into his embrace, pausing to see if she would pull away. When she didn't he held her closer and she burrowed her head in his shoulder.

"How are you feeling?" Grissom said, holding her tighter, trying to give her some semblance of comfort.

"Okay," she said on a sigh.

"…You scared me today, honey," Grissom admitted, combing his hand distractedly through her tangled curls. Giving his hand a reassuring squeeze, she looked up into his eyes and could see how deeply all this was affecting him, the swirls of emotion in his ocean-blue eyes troubling her. In her opinion, he was taking this harder than she was.

Thoughts waged war in his mind as he debated how to mention the doctor's suggestion. Grissom knew he needed to mention it, even if he knew her well enough to know that she would flat out refuse help. He wanted to help her, and if she were to agree to these counseling sessions, Grissom was sure that she would benefit from them, though he was wary about therapists himself.

"Sara?" Grissom said, squeezing her hand gently.

"Hmmm?" she mumbled, lifting her head from his shoulder look up at him.

"Your doctor made a suggestion," he said, not elaborating because he couldn't find the words to continue.

"What did he say?" Sara questioned, raising an eyebrow at the statement.

"He said that…it would be in your best interest to go to some form of therapy or counseling," Grissom said, worried as to her reaction. Her blank expression changed to something he couldn't quite name.

"No, I don't need therapy. I don't need to talk to some stranger about what happened." Her voice was rising in anger and bitterness as she pulled back from his embrace. "Just because of this one incident, what, do you think I can't take care of myself? I don't need help. I don't need your help or anyone else's." She couldn't keep her voice from cracking as she spoke. She watched as her words wounded him and he knew she was emotionally drawing back from him. He was losing her trust, though he was just trying to help her.

"Honey-," Grissom said, reaching out to her.

"Don't touch me!" she snapped, drawing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them, feeling the need to crawl into herself. He ignored her comment and took her hand in his. She looked up at him, the anger leaving her eyes as tears took its place. She spoke up softly, in a terrified child's voice.

"…I hate hospitals. I want to go home," she said, tears trailing from her eyes without her permission. Grissom was worried about her sudden change of gears. He wrapped her in the safety of his embrace, and she let him hold her. "Gil…can I go home?" she pleaded as she choked back a sob and buried her face in his shoulder. Swiping at her eyes, she couldn't understand why she was suddenly so emotional, though it was completely understandable, having been through a traumatic event.

He kept his arms around her in a loving, protective embrace, his head tilted so as to press his cheek to the top of her head.

"Okay, honey. I'll speak with the doctor when he comes to check on you." Sara shook her head.

"No, I want to leave now," she cried, sounding like a whining child.

"Okay, sweetheart," he said, holding her closer. "But we have to talk with the doctor to make sure you're okay. They thought it'd be best if you stayed the night, but I'll take you home." He kissed her forehead in comfort as tears still stained her cheeks

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Don't apologize, honey. There is nothing wrong with you… You'll be fine, I'll make sure of it," Grissom said, brushing the tears from her cheeks and kissing where they had been. "I'll go speak with the doctor," he said, gently claiming her lips and standing to go in search of him, though his hand was still in her grasp.

"Gil?" she questioned, looking up at him, brown eyes swimming with fear.

"Yes, honey?" he said, kneeling to be eyelevel with her.

"Please…don't leave me." Her plea referring to more than him leaving her side for a few minutes.

"I'll never leave you," he said, caressing her cheek and sitting back down at her bedside.

"Promise?" she pleaded.

"I promise," he said, taking her lips again. It broke his heart to see this woman who he knew as headstrong and independent to be reduced to a frightened little girl.

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Catherine was in the break room, stretched out on the couch, eyes closed, in an attempt to regain some energy for the rest of the night's shift, having worked doubles the past few days.

Greg came bursting through the break room doorway, disrupting the peaceful silence, a face-splitting boyish grin on his face.

"Catherine!" he said excitedly. He was practically bouncing on his feet, waiting impatiently for her full attention. Sitting up on the couch, she eyed him in the doorway. "We got him!" Greg said, over enthusiastically. Once he started talking he wouldn't be detoured. "The DNA from under one of the victim's fingernails matched the skin found under Sara's nails, which links her, as a victim, to these serial cases. I ran the DNA through the database and found a match to a cold case. I took the liberty of pulling the case file." Greg spoke with obvious excitement, having made the break that could crack the case wide opened. He passed the case file to Catherine, and she flipped through the numerous papers.

Eyes on a photo of the cold case victim, Catherine said, "But she's a blonde."

"Naturally brunette," Greg said proudly.

"Care to tell me how exactly this gets us closer to a suspect if the DNA matched a cold case?" Catherine asked, emphasizing her point, not in the mood to play any guessing games or 20 Questions with him.

"There was a suspect: the victim's boyfriend. Semen was found matching his DNA. He was let go because he explained their only evidence away, claiming to have had sex with her a few hours before her death."

"I'll call Brass. We'll need to bring that guy in for questioning. Nice work, Greg," Catherine said, exiting the break room, folder in hand.

"Brass."

"It's Catherine," she said, phone pressed almost painfully to her ear.

"I do have caller ID, you know. I'm not that old, Catherine," Brass joked.

"It's about Sara's case." His chuckling ceased.

"Any news?"

"Greg matched DNA found on our serial victims to a cold case from twelve years old," she said, eyes scanning the case file papers for more information.

"Do we have a suspect?" Brass asked. Catherine read a paper from the manila folder.

"One Chase Diensal," she said.

"I remember that case."

"You do?" Catherine asked, shocked at this revelation.

"He raped and killed his girlfriend Missy Hope Costanzo. Everyone knew he did it but we didn't have enough evidence to go after him without it being considered harassment. When we went to inform him that his girlfriend's case had come to a standstill, we found his apartment empty, like he picked up and left over night."

"Didn't that raise suspicion?" Catherine asked.

"Yes, but there was nothing we could do about his disappearing act. No judge was going to grant an arrest warrant for a guy who "did" his girlfriend."

"Haven't heard of him since, have you?"

"No." Catherine let out a disappointed sigh.

"Of course not, I knew it couldn't be that easy," Catherine stated bitterly.

"I'll heat up a judge for any warrants that we'll need to locate his current whereabouts."

"Thanks, Jim." After a moment, Brass spoke.

"How's Sara?"

"I haven't seen her awake since we were at the crime scene. My guess would be pretty shaken up. Last I heard Grissom was still with her at the hospital."

"How's he handling all this?"

"Better than I expected."

"What did you expect?"

"To see a man running down these halls, shouting orders that can't be done… I think it's a good thing he's with Sara… She's been a bit more attached to him as of recently too."

"Well, you know how they are. One minute they're all buddy/buddy, having conversations with their eyes, and then, in the next week, Sara looks ready to kill him. And we all know she could do it." Catherine smiled; their geeks were definitely like that.

"…Get on that guy, Jim. We don't need any more brunettes appearing in that case file."

"Right you are," Brass said, hanging up to start searching the databases for any sign of Chase Diensal.

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A/N: Please review! It'll make me smile :)