Sofia did not die, though it was a close thing. In later years Sara hated to think about how close it really was, knowing they had almost lost her, and even years on it remained a memory which was harrowingly raw. After her emotional breakdown Sofia drifted into a semi-conscious state, sometimes coherent and other times not, and in the hours following all of them stayed close beside her. It had been a gruelling night – the warm desert air flowing through the open window, watching the sun rise as Sofia struggled for life between them. Grissom kept her on her side, in case she vomited, but was helpless to do anything more. Most of the time, he paced, crossing restlessly between the bed and the window, his scared eyes always landing again on Sofia, searching for positive signs which never came. Sara remained silent, heavy with the guilt at what they had done, and stayed morosely cross-legged on the mattress beside Sofia, determined not to leave her.

The wait passed with each minute stretching like an hour. Once or twice Catherine took pity on Grissom's distress, and when his pacing brought him close to the bed she touched his arm as he passed, but none of them said anything. The time passed largely in devastating silence. After a while Warrick sat down on the bed behind Catherine, his hands settling on her shoulders, and Sara spotted a fleeting look of uncertainty in her eyes, as if she did not know whether to flinch or lean into him, but it seemed beyond her ability to unravel it at that moment. In the end she did not draw away, and after a time raised one hand to seize his, and he kissed the back of her hair, watching Sofia over her shoulder. When dawn came, and Sofia had still not moved, Nick suggested they pray.

"Maybe we should say something, you know? A prayer. What do you think?"

"It can't hurt," Warrick agreed.

"Right now I'll say anything," Catherine murmured.

Nick stepped forward into the fold, taking Catherine's hand in his, and settling his other on Grissom's shoulder. After a second's hesitation Grissom reached over for Sara's, and Sara, with no experience to draw upon but following their lead, joined hands with both him and Warrick. She did not feel even remotely religious, ready to curse God for ever putting them in such a situation, but was ready to try anything.

"Dear Lord, we come to you to pray for our friend Sofia, for her life that's in danger right now. We ask that you spare her, to let her come safely back to us, and if you do we promise to be better friends, to care for her as we should have done. We may not comprehend what your plans for us here are at this time, but we trust in your infinite wisdom to lead us somehow to safety, to help us through whatever challenges befall us. We ask for this in Jesus' name, Amen."

"Amen," Sara repeated.

Sara had little hope that the prayer would help, and a further two hours passed before any great change came. Sofia did eventually wake from her stupor, but when she did it looked no less bleak. She was still covered in sickly sweat, and it soon became apparent that she was suffering from violent stomach cramps. Sara and Catherine took her to the bathroom, and Sara felt a pang of sympathy as she watched her friend suffer through nature's efforts to expel the toxins from her body. Sofia was very weak afterward, and they helped her back to bed with a fresh cold compress to her forehead, Sara holding her hand as she settled back in for another rest.

Nevertheless it became apparent by midday that the worst was over, and that she may make a recovery, and by mid-afternoon, when the scorching heat of the day had taken hold outside, it seemed inevitable. Sara felt her fear gradually unravel, and the rest of the day passed with comparative ease. Though Sara knew they had dodged a bullet, she climbed back into bed that night still feeling shaken, and the feeling of unsettled trauma lingered for days to come.

In the morning, little had changed. She woke to find that she was the last to rise, it already being mid-morning outside, and that the others had already had breakfast. She spotted Warrick and Nick making Sofia comfortable on the sofa, settling her in with soft pillows and blankets, and could hear Catherine in the laundry somewhere beyond. Yet it was Grissom who interested her, and after a quick glance around she soon found him sitting in the swing seat out on the front verandah, looking pensively out at the desert wilderness.

"Hey," she greeted.

He looked up, surprised to see her.

"Hi. How'd you sleep?"

"Fine – albeit a bit late. I'm surprised you didn't wake me."

She could see the sun was already well risen. The first of the day's insects were hovering above the sunlit grass across the driveway, and though she herself was dressed only in her lingerie with her shirt hanging open, she felt hot already. The floorboards under her feet were warm.

"You looked as if you needed the rest," he replied, as she sat down beside him. "We thought we'd let you lie in a while."

She nodded, but saw his attention return to the desert, distantly passing over the endless dried grasslands.

"You okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine," he replied. "Just having some downtime."

"Thinking?"

"We have a lot to think about," he agreed.

He did not sound bothered, merely deep in thought. After a moment she realised he was not going to volunteer more, and sensed that for now at least, he wanted some time alone. Understanding, she rubbed his knee, and leaned in to steal a kiss.

"We'll be okay," she said, pecking him on the lips. "I think maybe we just all need to rest a while. Take some R&R."

He nodded, appearing to think the same.

"You should go get some breakfast," he said. "Keep your strength up – you barely ate yesterday."

She nodded. "I'll be inside, okay?"

"I'll be in soon."

Not wanting him to hurry, she left him to it. Not feeling remotely hungry, she bypassed the kitchen in favour of the living room, moving to check on Sofia. She found her sitting up on the couch, sipping some water, but still looking very downcast, her fingers to the side of her head as if still in pain. Determined to turn over a new leaf after the guilt of the day before, Sara greeted her with a warm hug, and Sofia seemed to soak it up gratefully before pulling back, needing to lie down. Sara helped her get comfortable, instructing her to do nothing but rest for the day, and by the time she crossed the room to go locate Catherine – who was uncharacteristically absent– Sofia had already closed hesr eyes again.

She found Catherine in the laundry, standing at the large basin. She had filled it with steamy water, the detergent floating in islands on top, and had a collection of assorted clothes and underwear on top of the closed lid of the washing machine.

"We need to do some laundry," Catherine supplied, as Sara paused in the doorway. "Thanks to this heat all our clothes are drenched in a layer of sweat – it's starting to smell."

Her lingerie from the night before was on top of the pile, and she wore instead a brown t-shirt and denim shorts she had scrounged from upstairs. Her hair was tied back in a clumsy ponytail, but her face looked pale and drawn.

She passed a wary glance to the living room as Warrick drifted past. There was a troubled look in her eyes as she watched his progress across the room. Sara watched her closely, and once he was out of sight, took pity on her and discretely closed the door.

"How much do you remember?" she asked.

Catherine's eyes snapped to her in surprise, but Sara leaned calmly against the washing machine, not hurrying her.

"Not much," she confessed. "There's a big gap. I haven't drunk like that since I was a teenager."

Sara nodded; she had suspected as much.

"Well you didn't sleep with him, if that's what you're worried about."

Catherine looked uncertain, trying to piece together scraps of memory.

"I think we were on the couch. I don't remember much more than that."

"You made out for a while," Sara said. "You were rounding second base when I came downstairs. I broke it up, Gil took Warrick upstairs, and I covered you with a blanket so you could rest. You fell straight to sleep."

Catherine studied Sara's eyes, looking faintly relieved.

"That's all that happened?"

"That's it," Sara confirmed.

Catherine sighed. "Thank God. I mean, not that I'd mind, but –"

"Not like that," Sara finished, nodding.

She felt glad that she had interrupted them, and made the decision to end it when she did. She had no qualms about Warrick and Catherine starting a relationship, but did not want it to happen under circumstances which would bring her friend pain. And looking at Catherine's relief, she knew she had made the right call.

"Thanks," she said, face awash with sincerity. "For being a friend."

"You're welcome."

Catherine reached for her, and Sara hugged her back, rubbing her back. As they separated however Sara pressed the small package she had been hiding into Catherine's hand, and Catherine looked surprised as she glanced down and saw three wrapped condoms.

"You trying to say something?" Catherine teased.

Sara smiled. "I know it's not my business, but … it's just in case. Take care of yourself, okay?"

Catherine looked touched, and her eyes shone with gratitude for Sara's friendship as she slipped the condoms safely into the back pocket of her shorts. She leaned up to peck her on the cheek.

"Thanks. I mean, I'm not sure when we'd ever get the opportunity – I'm sharing a room with Sofia, sharing the house with four other adults, but –"

"I think where there's a will, there's a way," Sara said, grinning. "And if nothing else, I hear the barn's comfortable."

Catherine laughed. "So you did, then."

Sara grinned. "Just between us, yes we did."

Catherine raised an eyebrow, intrigued, but before they could pursue the subject Warrick called out from the living room.

"Hey, Cat! I've got those clothes you wanted, where do you want them?"

"Prince Charming calls," Sara teased.

"Don't start," Catherine warned.

But when she opened the door, her troubled expression of moments before had vanished, and she sailed out to take control with renewed confidence.

It was a strange kind of day, and in the end Sara's conversation with Catherine was the only thing that was really achieved. Sofia spent the day resting on the couch, and none of the others strayed far. Catherine kept busy by washing all their clothes by hand, and then carried the load outside and hung it up in the bright sun to dry, and Sara passed several hours of the afternoon in the armchair in the living room, reading a novel pulled from the family bookshelf. Grissom seemed intent on having a day of rest, and did not call any meetings or force any conversation beyond bringing in an edict that Sofia was to have no access to their medication supplies, forcing her therefore to ask for it, and allowing them to regain control.

It set the tone for next few days. With nothing to do but recuperate, Sara watched as one by one her colleagues managed to piece themselves back together. Catherine found the strength the next morning to tackle her relationship with Warrick, setting off with him on a long morning walk, and though when they left the house they were a foot away from each other, they returned over an hour later hand in hand, and Catherine confessed to Sara that they had spoken about their feelings, but resolved to take things slow. To that end, over the next few days Sara did not see them do anything more than kiss – kissing each other good morning and goodnight – and though Sara wondered what Warrick thought of the slow pace he showed no overt sign of being bothered by it. Catherine nevertheless improved under the steady stream of affection, and seemed to gradually recover.

Nevertheless the signs of trauma were evident in them all, and the effects of their ordeal carried into their behaviour. It was perhaps most obvious in Sofia, who spent her days lying on the couch in the living room, plagued by headaches, rarely venturing outside. She did not bother to hide her pain from them now, and when the others hugged her and fussed over her health she soaked up their affection with genuine gratitude, and though Sara still felt scared and powerless, she knew that the experience had at least brought them all together.

Nick lapsed into silence for the first two days, talking little to anyone except Sofia, prompting Grissom to take him for a dawn walk through the fields, and Sara learnt later from Grissom that Nick had confessed to him everything that happened to him and Sofia in Vegas – that he had been ambushed and held at gunpoint before Sofia, spotting him, had charged in and shot them all dead. They had then run to fetch Catherine and Warrick, and come to find Sara. Nick had apparently cried as he re-lived it, but Grissom had sat him down calmly under a tree and counselled him, and when they returned later Nick had been much calmer. Sara had spotted him reading a copy of the bible later that afternoon, but did not comment on it.

Out of all of them it was perhaps Warrick who had been the calmest. Sara suspected that his newfound relationship with Catherine had helped, and over the following days the two took to taking regular walks together through the hills and surrounding desert. After Grissom had cottoned on to their relationship, he had taken Warrick upstairs for a talk, and though Sara suspected he had sought some assurances and promises, he did not put a stop to the relationship. Warrick acted like a gentleman toward Catherine, and like the rest of them, also redoubled his efforts of friendship toward Sofia. He spent one afternoon doing a crossword with her, reading out the clues to her as she laid on the couch, and was ready with a hug for her whenever she began to look down.

For Catherine's part, other than her relationship with Warrick, the most obvious change was in her affection toward the group. She became more openly affectionate toward them all, and hugged and kissed them all regularly. Sara had no problem with it, as she found that Catherine's warm hugs were helpful in keeping the pain at bay, and when Catherine innocently followed up one of her hugs with a peck to the far corner of Sara's mouth the following day – much like she would a child or old friend – it didn't even occur to her to think anything of it, until Nick tried it an hour later, and Grissom's eyes blistered him from across the kitchen.

Sara had to fight down a smile as Grissom struggled to explain it to her an hour later upstairs, looking uncharacteristically stressed.

"I don't care what you do with Catherine and Sofia, but please don't do that with Nick."

"It was innocent," she replied. "You're reading something into it that's not there."

"I know," he said. "But I don't care. Just please don't do it."

"If it worries you, all right."

"Thank you."

He looked relieved, and she settled the matter by planting an extra long kiss on his lips, illustrating the difference between a kiss with a friend and a lover, and she saw with satisfaction afterwards that he looked much more reassured. Nick did not dare to kiss Sara at all again – not even on the cheek – and the next morning even asked Grissom's permission before hugging her. Grissom missed the joke, and when Nick hugged her his hands landed on the centre of her back with mathematical precision and caution, and watching from across the room, Sofia smiled for the first time in days.

Sara's own healing happened haphazardly, and she found it hard to know how to feel. She felt mentally weary –strangely tired despite the fact that they did little but laze around all day – and yet the hugs she received from Grissom and the team helped. She spent a lot of her time reading novels from the family bookshelf downstairs, working her way through thrillers and several classics, and when she found herself pausing and reading the same paragraph over and over without comprehending it, she knew it wasn't coincidence that one of the others suddenly arrived at her side, ready with a hug. Catherine in particular was good at this, and seemed to develop a sense for whenever someone was in need, but Sara was glad that they did not force her to talk about it. They gave her the space she needed, and hugs to pull her through, and that was all she wanted. She sensed faintly that her sex life with Grissom had come to a standstill, as by the time they got to bed in the evenings she felt too weary to do anything but fall asleep, but she had little strength to think about it.

Several more days passed before they became active again, and recovered enough mentally to begin tackling some of the small problems waiting for them. When a rare cooler day came, and the sun disappeared behind some wispy cloud cover, the men began to talk about their food supplies, and a trip to town was agreed upon. Nick and Warrick quickly volunteered to partake in the hike, but when Sara offered to go with them, Grissom strangely argued that he needed her to take care of Sofia. Sara caught a glimpse of anguish in the backs of his eyes, and sensed his real motive was something far different, but did not call him on it. Her own memories of her last trip out were also still too fresh, and in the end, she felt little excitement about walking the five hours each way in any case. Catherine went in her place, and Sara spent the day relaxing with Grissom and Sofia.

After that came other initiatives which slowly crept into their daily life. Chief among them was what Warrick labelled 'reconnaissance' missions – trips to town and other farms to scrounge supplies of much needed items in a bid to make their lives easier. Warrick went in search of more candles and lighting, and returned later that day with two camping lanterns, and Nick found some tools to fix a loose section of tin on the roof. More water and food were also always in demand, and they gathered too a stock of medical supplies which Catherine thought it wise they keep for emergencies. This kit contained bandages and painkillers, plus items to perform stitches if it was ever required, and somehow over the following weeks, Catherine became the natural nurse of the group. She took charge of Sofia's recovery, keeping her meds in her pocket and forbidding her to do anything physically strenuous, and when Nick cut his toe on a stray nail in the verandah, it was Catherine who patched him up.

Over the following week they fixed the roof and mended the ancient clothesline, chopped firewood for the cool nights, sourced a supply of seeds in preparation for a vague plan of a future vegetable garden, and even began to ration the tank water until it rained again. The rain however, seemed at least a few months away, and the summer days remained blisteringly hot. Despite the fact that they had long washed and cleaned their clothes, none of them ever bothered to dress fully again, and Sara had not worn socks or even her jeans since their failed trip to Vegas. She wore her shirt loosely over her bra, sometimes buttoned and sometimes not, occasionally matched with a pair of borrowed shorts, and Catherine too, walked around mostly in her underwear. Both Nick and Warrick spent most days in only boxer shorts, and even Grissom had long dispensed with his formal work pants. Partly this was all because it was simply too scorching hot to bother with much clothing, and yet partly also because after what they had been through, none of them cared anymore. If Grissom did ask them to put clothes on, it was solely due to the need for protection from the sun when working outside, and once or twice he brought out long-sleeved shirts for Nick and Catherine to drape around them, shielding their pale skin from the powerful Nevada sun.

Sofia was the only one among them who did not work. Forbidden to take part, she spent most of her days resting inside, and then, when she began to feel a little better, began to sit outside with them. She would sit on the swing seat on the verandah, or beside them under a tree as they worked or debated a problem, and on the scorching hot afternoons, she even brought them cool drinks to refresh them. Sara felt glad that she was beginning to look a little better, but knew that the danger was not over yet. In the evenings at dusk the group spent time with her – Grissom reading her stories as he had after her accident, Catherine painting her nails and gossiping, and as night set in they headed for bed. Their sleeping hours naturally adjusted to align with daylight, and in the absence of electricity, Sara found this natural.

All in all, the fortnight after Sofia's breakdown passed with relative ease, but though Sara knew they had been lucky, she could still not shake the weariness that lingered heavy within her, and the pain that the hugs only went part way in vanquishing.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Grissom asked, as he climbed into bed with her one hot evening.

"I'm fine," Sara assured, and tried to smile. "We'll all be okay."

But he did not look satisfied as she wriggled down into bed to get comfortable, and as she closed her eyes she could still not bear to think about what had happened, or worse still – what might be waiting for them.

Sincere thanks to those who left feedback after the last chapter - you keep me writing and it's so much appreciated. Hope everyone like this one. :)