She woke in an upstairs bedroom. Nestled in a cosy single bed, she took a moment to take in her surroundings. She seemed to be in an old guest room, a single bed with patchwork quilts situated hard against each wall, the floor between them covered with a worn, country rug. The room had a large bay window with a window seat overlooking the valley, and late afternoon sun streamed in with a fading golden glow. The bed opposite looked as if it had been slept in, and she saw Catherine's vest slung over the end.

She spotted then Catherine in the doorway, watching her with a slight smile.

"Hey," she said softly. "How are you feeling?"

Sara felt drowsy, and inclined her head only to blink at the onslaught of sunlight. Every fibre of muscle in her legs ached.

"Tired," she admitted. She fought to sit up, but the soft mattress made it difficult – it was so cosy she could have stayed there another twelve hours.

"We carried you up here after you collapsed on the porch," Catherine supplied. "You were done in –slept the day away."

Sara did not know what to say. The memories returned with painful heaviness, and she fought to hold them off a moment before facing them. Under the blankets she felt her legs were bare, and she spotted her jeans hanging over the back of a nearby chair. They were folded neatly, with mathematical precision, and she knew instantly it had been Grissom. He must have put her to bed, helping her off with her clothes before tucking her in between the sheets, snug and warm. She felt love for him stir briefly in her chest.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"After five," Catherine answered. "Grissom's downstairs cooking some dinner. We wondered if you were up for joining us."

Sara nodded. "Sure."

She swung her legs to the floor, and tried not to wince as her muscles protested. Catherine passed her her jeans.

"I'm gonna go check on the guys. I'll see you downstairs, okay?"

Sara agreed. She heard Catherine leave for the next bedroom, and slowly tugged on her jeans. She had been in her stale clothes for two days now, but it was only one of many problems she could do nothing about, and it was nothing compared to their situation. She knew Grissom and Catherine had to know the truth by now, that either Nick or Warrick must have filled them in, and that it was probably why she was being summoned downstairs. But still she had no answers for them, and the heavy feeling of dread lodged itself back in her chest. She visited the bathroom to quickly use the toilet and wash her face, and then headed downstairs.

She paused for a moment at the bottom, acclimatising. The kitchen and living room were brightly lit, thanks to the warm afternoon sun, and standing at the gas stove with his back to her was Grissom. She smiled to herself, spotting that he wore a frilly blue lace apron tied around his front as he stirred the contents of a large saucepan. On the table nearby the newspaper they had brought from town was folded and put aside, and the bag of drugs she had brought was closeby on the counter. She turned to look at the lounge suite, searching for the answer to the question she had not been able to ask upstairs, and felt momentary relief – Sofia was still breathing. She lay unconscious, a clean towel under her head and fresh bandages where the blood had previously been, but she was alive. Several half-burnt candles lay strategically placed around the room. Evidently Grissom and Catherine had kept up an all-night vigil.

"Hey," she greeted, heading for the kitchen.

"Hey," he replied.

He looked at her almost as if with surprise – and with relief.

"Nice look," she added, smiling as she pecked him on the lips.

"I thought everyone might like some dinner," he replied. "You haven't eaten in a while."

Sara nodded. Now she thought about it had been about thirty-six hours, and the queasy feeling in her stomach was due to more than just anxiety.

"How do you feel?" he added.

"Sore," she said truthfully, "but I'm okay."

He pulled out a chair for her. "Sit down and take it easy."

It felt nice to be taken care of, even for a second, and she happily obeyed. As he stirred the contents in the saucepan she marvelled at his mental strength, that despite everything, he somehow seemed to be in control. But she had little time to think about it as the others soon joined them, and after checking briefly on Sofia they all took their seats at the table with varying degrees of exhaustion. Catherine in particular looked as if she had not slept for days, and she did not miss the comforting hand that Warrick momentarily placed on her shoulder.

Sara felt a frank conversation regarding their predicament looming, but Grissom seemed keen that everyone should eat first, and in the end the dinner proceeded with relative normality until the last plate was clean, when he stacked the dirty dishes in the sink and then sat down, looking only slightly ill at ease.

"We need to talk," he said simply.

"I agree," Warrick replied, looking tired but resigned.

Sara said nothing, bracing herself.

"Now I know everyone here's feeling tired," Grissom went on, "everyone's feeling worn out and emotional, and that's okay. I'm going to keep this simple and to the point. There are a few things we need to discuss, things we need to be clear on, and I'm going to go through them now, one at a time."

They waited.

"First of all, I know everyone here knows our predicament. Catherine and I went through the newspaper today, we heard Nick's account of what happened in town, and we've had a few hours now to take it all in. I think the most important thing right now is that we stay calm, and that we don't panic. If you're worried about your families – Catherine, I know you're worried about Lindsey – that's understandable. But let me just say this: the number one hope our families will be cherishing right now is that we're all safe and together. They can handle us missing if they know we're taking care of each other. So let's not throw that into the wind and endanger ourselves by acting irrationally. We're going to stay together, stay calm, and work through these problems one at a time as a team."

He paused as if waiting for their agreement, and Sara nodded. What he said made sense.

"Now there are a lot of things we need to work through, a lot of questions that need answers – our location, this disease – those are all things we need to think about. But I think that before anything else, our number one priority right now is Sofia."

Sara could stay quiet no longer, and worried, she spoke.

"Griss," she said gently, "I have to be honest. She's been out for twenty-four hours now with no sign of waking. We have to assume she has a head injury, and without proper facilities, without even an IV drip, she's going to dehydrate quickly."

She saw worry embedded in Nick's eyes, but Grissom took it in his stride.

"I know," he said. "And that means the next 48 hours are critical. It may well be serious, but we're going to do everything we can. Catherine and I have been tracking her vitals every half hour, keeping a record, and it's clear from the numbers that she's making some improvement. We're also rolling her every hour, and we've seen her make signs of slight movement twice."

"You're saying you think there's a chance she'll wake up," Nick clarified.

"I think we need to be prepared for the fact that she might," Grissom said. "And that means that until we know, or until she's stable, I want someone with her at all times. We can tag team to ease the burden, but I want everyone to take their turn. Monitor her vitals, keep her airways clear, and if she does wake, bear in mind she'll probably be in a great deal of pain and distress. Give her drugs if she needs them, make sure she drinks some water, but keep her calm. Reassure her, and be careful about what you tell her. Don't give her any more information than she can handle."

The group nodded.

"We'll take care of her, Griss," Warrick said, looking worried. "Whatever it takes."

"Good," he replied.

No one spoke about what would happen if she didn't wake, but Sara knew that was something they would have to face if or when it happened.

"And this disease?" Catherine voiced, speaking for the first time.

"For now, let's stay well clear of it," Grissom said. "We'd be stupid to take the risk. We have enough food to last us a while, so we'll be okay for now. And I'd rather we come out of here safe and sound in a month than lose our heads now and not return at all. If we do need to go to town again, it'll be strictly by group consensus. We have to assume this disease is still out there, and we know it's highly contagious. We can't afford for anyone here to contract it. And that means we're going to stay away from town or inhabited areas as long as possible. I don't want anyone leaving this property or immediate vicinity without the knowledge and permission of the group. Whatever happens to any one of us will affect us all. And if you're outside bear in mind that we don't know how this thing is being carried. Avoid any contact with wildlife, no matter how innocent it may seem, and wash your hands regularly. In all likelihood there may be a time when we'll need to go back to town, particularly if we're going to find a way out of here, but until then we bide our time and play it safe. We're going to make it back home, but we're going to do it safely and wisely, and we're going to take Sofia with us." He paused. "Any questions?"

There were none.

"All right," he said. "Class dismissed."

It crossed Sara's mind that he had not even mentioned Nick's theory of parallel universes, but she felt almost grateful for that. She barely had the energy to get her own head around it, and knew the team was too tired to absorb anything more than his immediate instructions to look after Sofia, and not stray from the property.

Catherine wavered as she stood, blinking as if trying to focus her eyes.

"Why don't you get some sleep?" Warrick suggested, drawing her to one side. "You've been on your feet forty-eight hours; you've done enough, we can take it from here."

"I can't sleep," Catherine said, stubbornly shaking her head.

"You need your rest," he said. He put his arm around her, leading her to the stairs. "Come on, let's get you into bed."

She didn't put up a fight, and Warrick led her upstairs. Nick wandered into the living room and sat on the coffee table facing Sofia, and Sara sighed. She felt Grissom take her shoulders, massaging.

"Do you honestly think we're going to make it out of here?" she asked quietly, turning to look at him.

He had no answer.

"Let's just take one thing at a time," he said.

Sara nodded. It was not the answer she was looking for, but it would have to do.

XXX

The next few days passed in a haze of exhaustion. The long hours blurred into each other, spent sleeping and caring for Sofia, and Sara only realised in hindsight how tired they had all been after their return from town. After Warrick had put Catherine to bed, she slept for a solid fifteen hours, long enough that Sara actually tip-toed into their room to check on her, and Grissom too was similarly tired. He joined them for three hours the first night before he was sent to bed by democratic vote, and after Sara had tucked him in and kissed him goodnight she settled in for the night shift with Nick and Warrick.

It was a strange atmosphere. With no electricity the living room was lit with flickering candlelight, and the house countryside were utterly silent in their isolation. To lift their spirits they resolved to keep busy, and after unearthing a sponge and spray cleaner from the laundry cupboard Sara set to work in removing a year's worth of dust and grime from all the surfaces, polishing them to a sheen. Warrick, content to join her, washed the dishes and swept the floorboards, while Nick kept up a vigil by Sofia's side, monitoring her vitals and recording the results on the chart Catherine had drawn up. After the housework was done they took turns in looking around the house and barn, checking exactly what supplies they had, and sometime after that Nick found a cupboard of board games, and talked them all into a game of scrabble.

Sara realised then the toll their trip to town had taken, as she stared at the letters on her tray and had to force herself to concentrate to get them to wriggle into order, but it was not until a few hours later – well past midnight – that anything interesting happened.

Nick was rounding off his victory when Sofia moved. She winced; her entire body stiffening with pain.

"Sofia?"

Nick moved quickly to her side, holding her hand in his.

"Hey, now. You okay? Can you hear us?"

"Sofia?" Sara said clearly, kneeling beside him. "It's Sara. Open your eyes if you can hear us."

"Sofia?"

She winced again, and her fingers tightened in Nick's. He firmed his grip, soothing.

"It's okay," he said. "It's okay, now. You're safe. Open your eyes if you can."

Her eyelids opened. Groggy and disoriented, her pupils rolled as she struggled to focus.

"Focus on me," Sara said. "It's Sara. Nick and Sara. Focus on us."

It took a long moment of coaxing – during which Sara began to doubt she physically could – but then, Nick holding her hand tight, her blue eyes honed in on them. A look of thick confusion marred her features.

"It's okay," Nick repeated. "You're safe with us. You're gonna be okay."

And at last, she spoke, breathless and pained.

"What happened?"

"You had an accident," Sara supplied. "You hit your head outside."

"Took a little bump to the temple," Nick added. "But you're gonna be fine. You're safe now."

Her eyes fluttered closed again, but she continued talking, breathing her words weakly into the towel she lay on.

"Where are we?" she asked.

Sara searched her weary brain for an acceptable lie, knowing it was no time for honesty.

"We're in a house," she said gently. "We're stranded but we're safe."

"How's the pain?" Nick asked, squeezing her hand. "You got some pain in your head? Your spine?"

"My head," she answered, voice wavering with agony. "It hurts …"

"Sara –"

Warrick handed her a glass of water and two pills.

"Try her with these. We'll see if it helps. We want to keep her off the hard stuff if we can."

"We have some painkillers here that will help," she said kindly. "Do you think you can take them if we help?"

She looked to be in too much pain to answer, but her hand let go of Nick's to reach out, and Sara took that as a yes. While talking her through what they were doing, they slipped two pills into her mouth, and then helped her sip some water.

When done she put the glass aside. Sofia looked exhausted by the effort, and started to doze.

"Let her sleep," Warrick suggested.

"You just rest, we're gonna be right here, okay?" Nick said. "Anything at all you need, you just yell out. We're right beside you."

She drifted back to sleep. Sara recorded the developments on the nursing chart while Nick held her hand, and it was another three hours before she woke again.

This time, they were ready for it. Nick was already holding her hand before she spoke.

"I'm cold," she breathed weakly.

Sara felt her forehead before moving to her feet and lifting up the blankets. Sofia's ankles were white and cold, and the temperature in the room had fallen as night seized the desert.

"I'll get some more blankets," Sara volunteered.

"I saw some wood outside in the barn for this fire," Warrick said, indicating the fireplace in the corner of the room. "Maybe we could light it a while, keep the temperature in here steady."

"Good idea, man," Nick agreed. "You do that, I'll stay with her …"

It went on for hours. Sofia drifted in and out of sleep, each time becoming steadily more aware of her surroundings, and they took care of her as best they could. They encouraged her to drink water each time she woke, wanting to ward off dehydration, and monitored her temperature under the cocoon of blankets. It soon became apparent to Sara that Nick's compassion lent him natural nursing skills, as he warmly held her hand and endlessly reassured her that she would be fine, and Sofia improved under his care. By mid-morning, when the sun outside was heating up and Grissom and Catherine finally came downstairs, she was engaging in conversation, and Grissom sat down beside her looking as if the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders.

"Hi," he said lightly.

The change since he had last seen her was dramatic. Apart from being awake, Sofia now rested on her back, Sara having replaced the towel with a more comfortable pillow. Her long hair spilled down over her shoulders, and though she remained very weak and confused, she smiled faintly.

"Hey," she replied tiredly.

Standing nearby, Catherine looked stunned that Sofia was conscious, but Sara was grateful when she quickly masked the expression. She sat down on the coffee table beside Grissom, and gave a warm smile.

"Hey," she greeted. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been hit by a steamroller," Sofia replied, eyes drifting closed.

"How's the pain?" Grissom asked.

"Next question," she answered.

She did not offer more, which to Sara was a telling sign, along with the fact that despite being awake for a while now, she had asked no questions about their location or what their situation was.

"Do you know where you are?" he queried.

"It looks like someone's house," Sofia said, peering around.

The room was light now, the candles put out as the morning sun rose.

"What's the last thing you remember?" Catherine asked.

Sofia looked at her a moment, then became suddenly evasive. She appeared confused, and shook her head.

"I'm not sure," she replied.

She looked unsettled by something, and perhaps sensing this, Grissom did not press her any further. Catherine laid a hand on her arm, giving a reassuring squeeze, allowing her a moment.

"Have you had some water?" Grissom asked. "Something to eat?"

"She's had some water," Nick supplied. "We didn't want to try her with food until she was ready."

"Think you can handle some soup?" Catherine asked.

"I'll try," Sofia agreed.

"I'll fix you something," Grissom said.

Sara knew the reprieve from questions was only temporary, that in all likelihood Grissom would thoroughly examine her mental status as soon as he thought she could withstand it. But he seemed wary of pushing her too hard too soon, and retreated to the kitchen to make her some soup.

It was not long after that Sofia, looking slightly awkward, voiced a need to use the bathroom. The group helped her down the hallway to the small room, and after advising her not to lock the door, waited outside. Sara heard Grissom and Catherine talking quietly in the kitchen, but after a while realised that everything was quiet on the other side of the door.

"Sofia?" she prompted, knocking. "You okay in there?"

No reply came.

Nick looked concerned. "Maybe you should –"

"Yeah," Sara agreed.

She cracked open the door, peering around. Sofia stood at the bathroom sink, her shirt removed, staring with confusion at her bruised torso in the mirror. Her fingers hovered an inch above the dark bruises on her abdomen, not daring to touch, but looking deeply disturbed.

"Hey," Sara said kindly. She shut the door behind her, and crossed to her side. "You okay?"

Sofia spared her a glance. "Sara, I don't –"

She broke off, troubled.

"You don't remember?" Sara guessed.

"I remember some things," she confessed. "I remember all the things I wish I didn't, but none of the parts I wish I did. And I don't know how I got these."

"We think you took a fall," Sara said kindly. "We found you near some rocks."

She did not offer more, not knowing exactly how much Sofia was ready to hear. But Sofia asked no questions, and continued to stare puzzled at herself in the mirror. Sara wondered after a moment if she had even heard.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Again, Sofia looked troubled, and then asked the last question that Sara had ever expected to hear.

"Sara … how's Catherine doing?"

Surprised, Sara hesitated.

"She's fine. She's doing okay." After a moment she added, "Why?"

But Sofia didn't answer. She sighed, and as if regretting saying anything, picked up her shirt.

"It's nothing," she said. "Forget I said anything."

And it wasn't until much later that Sara made any sense of it.

The day drifted onward. As Sara expected, Grissom discretely requested the others leave the room so he could talk to Sofia alone, and later reported that despite having a large gap in her memory, all the other signs were positive. She was in a great deal of pain, from both her head and bruises, but the painkillers seemed to help, and she was at least engaged in what was happening. In the afternoon she managed to sit up for a half hour, joining them in doing a jigsaw puzzle on the coffee table, and when Nick stationed himself at her feet and idly gave her a foot massage to get her circulation going, she smiled for the first time that day. Later that evening it was Grissom who kept her entertained, reading her several chapters from Dickens' A Christmas Carol, which he had retrieved from the family bookshelf. Sara, perched on his armrest with his hand on her thigh, smiled to herself as he did all the voices, distracting Sofia from her pain.

It was the following afternoon before Sara had any time alone with Grissom. It was a warm, pleasant day, the sun in full bloom but not quite as scorching as the previous three, and relieved from nursing duty they seized the opportunity to slip outside alone for a walk. They walked hand-in hand through the extensive paddocks of sunlit grass, tracing the fence line before returning eventually to the barn. It was stacked high with square bales, leading up in height like steps, and they climbed up a few, sitting down on the soft hay.

Grissom rested his hand on her knee, thumb rubbing through the denim, and as they stared out through the open doors at the rolling countryside she at last dared to ask the question she had been withholding for two days.

"How are you coping?"

He did not reply immediately, but sighed deeply.

"This may sound selfish," he said at last, "but if I have to be here, I'm glad you're here with me."

She looked into his eyes and saw it was his honest reply, honest in a way that he couldn't be honest with any of the others. But she nodded, understanding.

"I feel the same," she confessed. "If you hadn't summoned me out to help with the case, I'd still be in Vegas, searching with Brass and Greg, worrying about what had happened. This isn't paradise, but at least we're facing it together."

He nodded. She had many more questions, things she was curious about – how they were possibly going to face the question of their location, how they were going to ever get back – but fearing the answers, and already knowing, she did not voice them. Nevertheless she felt the questions always heavy in her stomach, the burden growing heavier with each day, as Sofia became more and more mobile, and the question of their next step crept ever closer. The necessity of taking care of Sofia had largely distracted them all from the many problems they were reluctant to face, but Warrick and Catherine were starting to show signs of chronic insomnia. She had heard Catherine tossing and turning in the next bed the previous night, but had been powerless to comfort her.

But mostly she felt for Grissom, knowing that as leader the burden was settled heavily on his shoulders, his responsibility not just for himself but for the wellbeing of the entire team. Stuck with a problem there was little chance they could ever escape.

Looking up, they caught each other's eyes, and without needing another word, leaned in. It was open-mouthed from the start, his tongue working with hers, kissing her slowly as if they had all the time in the world. The hand on her knee slid to intimately cup her inner thigh, but he seemed in no hurry, relaxing with her, taking his time, and it was pleasant. They kissed for a while before Sara broke off to move to his neck, kissing down to his shirt as she reached for the buttons. She made her way down, popping them open. In one swift movement he drew her into his lap, straddling him, and when he kissed her again – Sara pushing his shirt from his shoulders – it grew steadily more passionate. He made quick work of her shirt, hurriedly undoing the buttons before tossing it aside, and with a large hand splayed on her naked lower back, he pulled her closer against him, until there was no space between them at all, and she felt him growing, large and ready, between her legs.

She kissed him hard, passionately pulling him to her as she ran her hands over his chest and back, and then all of a sudden, just when her hand had edged toward his belt, he drew away.

"Sara –" He gasped for air, out of breath. "We can't do this –"

She smiled, working his belt.

"You're about five minutes too late," she teased. "Don't start something you can't finish, Gil Grissom."

"I can finish," he said, as if this stung his pride, but he hastily stalled her fingers on his belt buckle. "But you were on the pill, and you haven't taken it now for three days –"

But Sara reached deep into the front pocket of her jeans, fishing out a wrapped condom and pressing it into his hand.

"Something else I found at the pharmacy," she said.

He took it, surprised.

"Well it's nice to know your mind was on the job," he teased.

But Sara grinned. "Are you complaining?"

"Well that depends," he replied. "How many did you bring?"

"How many will you need?"

There was a spark in his eye as he looked at her, and then, smiling like he was a boy again, he took her. Hard and passionate, she was immobile, trapped in his arms circled around her, his hands roaming and groping with several days of pent-up stress and need. He ground himself against her, and she felt a bolt of pleasure unravelling between her legs. She knew she was steadily losing her senses, but there was something else she wanted to do first – something she had wanted to do for him for several days now while watching his stressed expression across the living room.

She quickly worked free his belt buckle, and, momentarily leaving his lap, stripped him of his pants and boxers. She had been right – he was large and more than ready. Perched on the edge of the hay bale, he reached for her, evidently intending to even up the score, but with a hand on his arm she held him at bay. Lying his clothes aside, and casting a wary glance to the open door, she knelt between his legs, and with a smile to him, took him in her mouth.

He drew in a sharp breath.

"Oh my God –"

His right hand sank with need into her hair, not holding her down exactly – Grissom was not the sort – but gratefully absorbing all she offered. She worked slowly, wanting to draw it out for his benefit, and she listened as his breathing rapidly changed. The hand on her head wandered, ducking between her tresses and her shoulder, and knowing what he needed, what he wanted, she reached down with both hands for her own jeans and slipped them down to her knees together with her underwear, so he could see her as she worked. When he drew in another sharp breath, she knew she had hit the right note.

"Oh God," he said, hand buried in her hair.

She moved in closer against him, intending to finish him off, but was stopped suddenly as he tugged on her arm, drawing her up again.

Confused, she looked up.

"You're coming with me," he said.

He raised her up, and in a second she had lost all control of the matter. He quickly disposed of her bra, and a hungry hand groped her breast hard as he threw her back onto the hay. She instinctively spread her legs for him, and with a thought that the hay was strangely comfortable, waited as he quickly tore open the condom. A second later he was ready, and she held him to her as he eased himself in. She closed her eyes, revelling in the pure joy of the feel of him hard inside her, and as he started gently thrusting, she almost came straightaway.

Later, the deed done, he held her to him, and she rested her head wearily on his shoulder. She did not know how long they slept, only that when she woke, Grissom was shaking her shoulder, and the sun had lowered so that it was streaming in through the open barn doors.

She blinked, and sighed with utter contentment.

"We should go. I think we overslept," Grissom said. "They'll be wondering where we are."

Sara propped herself up on her elbows, and saw they were both high in the haystack, their clothes scattered around them like confetti. She looked down at the entrance, of which they were in full view.

Had they really just done it in a barn?

All the same she could not resist smiling. "Should we –"

"- have done that?" Grissom finished. "Probably not."

But he was smiling, looking like the proverbial cat that had got the cream, and she grinned. No, they shouldn't have done that – but technically they shouldn't have had a secret affair for two years, either, and that hadn't stopped them. Some things were simply too good.

She stared around at the discarded clothes with sudden confusion.

"Where's my bra?"

"Uh …" Grissom glanced around. "I'm not sure. I think I threw it somewhere."

She giggled, sitting up.

"Never mind, I'll help you find it."

They had to search a small mountain of hay, but eventually found it across the far side of the stack, buried between a bale and the barn wall. Still giggling, they began to gather up their clothes just as Sara heard a new voice – Catherine.

"Grissom!" she called. "Sara?"

Her footsteps were coming closer, approaching the barn door to search, and sharing an alarmed look with Grissom, he hastily called out to stop her.

"We're here!" he called. "We'll be inside in a minute."

His voice was firm, an order for her to not come any closer.

She heard Catherine hesitate.

"Right," she said, sounding uncertain. "I guess I'll see you inside."

Sara was filled with a sudden suspicion, but hoping she was wrong, she quickly dressed, and working hard to suppress their smiles, they walked casually back inside.

Catherine stood in the kitchen with Nick and Warrick, and all three of them were barely suppressing knowing grins.

Sara indicated vaguely over her shoulder. "We just uh …"

"Got lost?" Catherine suggested.

"We went for a walk," Sara said smoothly.

"Uh-huh," Warrick said, nodding along.

Nick looked as if he was going to burst into laughter any second.

"And you were in the barn because..?"

"Checking supplies," Grissom said innocently.

"Oh," Catherine said, nodding. "Good."

She stacked her mug in the sink, and for a second Sara thought she was off the hook, until Nick spoke. Grinning, he pointed to her hair.

"By the way, you have hay in your hair."

Sara reached up, and sure enough came away with a strand of hay between her fingers.

"And you may want to dust off your knees," Catherine added, leaning in to whisper to Sara as she walked past.

Sara looked down, and saw that, sure enough, the knees of her jeans showed tell-tale signs of dirt.

She went red. Her colleagues knew –there was no escaping a CSI.

"I guess that's why they call it a roll in the hay," Warrick quipped.

And grinning, the three left the room before Sara could even respond.

Hence the M rating..? ;)