In truth, Sara suspected that the situation was going to descend into an argument, despite her attempt to leave the room and put it all down to fatigue, and she had barely slipped her shoes off and settled down on the bed before she heard it break out in the kitchen.

She could not hear what they said, but she could make out Grissom's disgruntled voice, firm and unyielding, and then Catherine's utterly pissed off one, as whatever retaliation Nick made quickly set her off like a firework. A moment later Nick stormed off down the hall, heading for the room he shared with Sofia, and when Sara heard Sofia's puzzled voice query what the hell was going on, he must have quickly confessed, because Sofia jumped in with a very quick assessment.

"That was stupid," she said.

Even through the wall Sara could hear her disbelief at the statement, and could imagine her blue eyes staring resolutely into her partner.

"Don't give me that, okay?" Nick retaliated, angry. "I'm sick of it. I'm sick of everyone saying that I somehow mistreated you, and aggravated your head injury, when –"

"No one's said anything to me," she corrected.

"Well, you didn't hear it, okay? He's out there now, pulling me aside and saying I wasn't gentle enough, like it's my fault."

"Well clearly we both weren't gentle enough." There was a hint of pragmatic amusement in Sofia's voice. "We did spend the night at the hospital."

"So you're blaming me too?"

"I don't blame anyone."

"So what, then? You're cool with this? Grissom saying that? Implying we're both irresponsible, when it was him who got Sara pregnant out there and nearly got her killed? You see the hypocrisy there?"

"Sara's fine," Sofia said, with a tone that said she was trying to keep her temper. "And as for the rest, it's none of our business."

"Isn't it?"

Nick's voice was deadpan, quiet now, and Sara almost had to strain to hear.

"You're tired," Sofia pointed out, gently.

"Well, maybe I am," Nick confessed, and his voice was laced with pain. "I'm tired of all of this. I'm tired of the memories, the bad dreams. I'm tired of pretending everything's okay."

"It will be okay."

"Maybe. But not today."

There was quiet for a moment, and Sara thought she could just hear a kiss, as though Sofia had tried to kiss him on the cheek and calm him, but a moment later she heard him stubbornly utter that he was heading back to Dianne's, and there was the sound of clothing and shoes being shoved into an overnight bag. Sara opened the door just in time to see him retreat, heading up the hall with his shoulders hunched and looking defeated, and knowing now that he was more mentally ill than they had estimated, Sara watched him go, feeling an unexpected tug of sympathy.

She knew first-hand the difficulty of mental illness, and that sometimes people said things they did not mean, and she was torn between sympathy for his mental state and a residual bubbling annoyance at his words. Sara did not hold Grissom remotely responsible – or anyone for that matter – but the mere fact that it had come up yet again annoyed her. And yet, at the same time, she knew that his words came only from love, from the sheer strength of the group's unbreakable bond, from her friends' fear of losing her, and she understood that too well. Catherine had made it plain upon their return how much she had scared them.

"I'll go," Warrick muttered.

He cast a glance to Catherine beside him and she nodded, agreeing.

"I'll stay here," she replied.

He grabbed at his keys, phone and weapon that lay abandoned on a nearby side table, and headed for the front door. Sara was momentarily relieved that she was spared the duty of following him, and instead glanced around at the crowd – at Grissom and Cath at the end of the hallway, and at Sofia, who had appeared in her own bedroom doorway.

For a moment there was silence.

"I think we can agree that no one's at fault," Sara started, hesitantly. "Right?"

"Yeah," Sofia agreed, eyes widening as though it was obvious, and still a little taken aback at the turn the morning had taken.

"Shit happens," Catherine said, with a frank shrug. "Let's not analyse it."

"That's profound," Grissom quipped.

His face was still tight with disapproval, all at Nick's words, and the joke did not quite reach his eyes.

"And true," Catherine replied.

There was another moment of silence in which time stretched, and Sara felt in that silence yet again how isolated their little house was, how wide the desert outside was, and then at last Grissom's expression softened, and he eyed Sofia with sympathy, from his position up the far end of the hallway.

"You should get some sleep," he said. "Rest your head."

"Probably," she agreed.

"You, too," he added, to Sara. "You've been up all night."

Sara did not respond. Being up all night did not bother her, given the group's history of working nights, but she did take a moment to appreciate Grissom's demeanour. He stood there, leaning tiredly against the wall, his eyes gazing at her protectively, and wearily, but certainly not smiling. He did not move toward her, and she could tell he was rattled by what had transpired, and barely knew what to do with it. He was certainly not ready to talk and thrash it out.

"You'll be okay?" she asked.

She was trying to gauge what he was likely to do if she slept.

"I'll be fine," he assured.

The assurance did not reach his eyes, and she hesitated, until Catherine strode down the hall and promptly took things in hand. She ushered Sofia back into her bedroom, ordering her to change, and then, like a mother hen, rounded up Sara.

"You have some pyjamas?" Catherine asked.

"I'll just strip off," Sara said.

But Catherine breezed past into Sara's bedroom, fishing out some sleepwear from in between Sara's sheets, where it had been abandoned the night before, and then leaned into her, conspiring quietly.

"You stay with Sofia," she said. "Keep an eye on her. I'll handle the rest."

Sara followed her through to Sofia's bedroom, and let her usher her toward the bed. Sharing a bed with Sofia did not bother her, and she was exhausted.

"You're sure?" she asked. She lowered her voice, near to a whisper. "He looks ready to hit someone."

Catherine shrugged, airily.

"Don't worry about it. He's a man. If there's one thing I can handle, it's men."

Sara tried not to grin. Across the room, Sofia gave a weary smile. Sara picked up her pyjamas, and Catherine headed for the door.

"Get some rest."

It was only later, as Sara lay there, staring at the ceiling, that she realised that Catherine had been even more cunning than she had thought. The need to leave someone with Sofia, at least until her head injury cleared, was legitimate and sensible, but it also occurred to her that Catherine may have had another motive: to ensure Sara was equally not left alone. The reality was that the entire argument had been about Sara's safety; about her pregnancy, miscarriage and near-death in the desert, and these were all heavy subjects. And for all the group, apparently.

Next to her Sara sensed that Sofia was also lying awake, if her tossing and turning was anything to go by, but eventually they did sleep, and for a while, she escaped from it into her dreams.

Struggling a bit with motivation for fanfic at the moment, but still hoping to finish the ones I have going. We'll see. Thanks to those who are reading. :)