A month after their arrival, Sara stood at the far back fence of the property, staring out at the ever-reaching desert. The sight was beautiful, beautiful in a way that was so unique to rugged Nevada, where the wild, lonely plains sprouted with life that knew nothing but stubborn resilience. The grass in the valley behind their property was a foot high, and as dry and brittle as straw after the months of scorching summer heat, and yet it still shone under the sun's rays, at complete peace. It was this tranquil calm that Sara liked about it, a world unbothered by everything that plagued Sara's mind, and it was why she had taken to roaming through the peaceful plains. For the past week she had gone for long walks after breakfast, letting the bitter endurance of nature relax her, but this was the first time that she had been forced into having company.

She could feel Grissom studying her closely as he paused beside her, as if taking notes on her mood. His eyes flicked between her and the desert horizon far ahead, as if trying to latch on to what captivated her, and to unravel the inner workings of her mind. She herself had to make no effort to understand his – the arm that he had placed around her shoulders in the kitchen moments earlier had been woefully obvious, and his gentle words of "Let's take a walk" had left none of the group in doubt. It had been too reminiscent of his actions toward Nick several weeks prior, when Nick had barely spoken to anyone for two whole days, and Grissom had been forced to take him outside for a walk to counsel him. As Sara gazed out at the desert she could feel the same talk coming, but stared resolutely ahead, unsure if she was in the mood – even for Grissom.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" he began.

She looked to him, feeling only faintly surprised that he had read her with such perfect insight. But he gave her only a slip of a glance before leaning on the fence, and talking on.

"I think that sometimes it seems so rare that we get to actually pause and observe the world, to appreciate all the fine wonders of nature. When we were in the office every day in Vegas I used to wish we could get out here more often, to go for a hike maybe, but the demands of real life seem to always keep it just out of reach. I suppose sometimes things don't go as want them to – but it's not bad, either."

"Are you feeling philosophical?" she queried.

She was in no mood to attempt to keep up with his cryptic insights into the human condition; she felt too mentally weary, too tired of everything.

"No," he replied. "I'm feeling honest. Clear-headed, even."

He looked at her, as if inviting her to comment that she felt the same way, but Sara declined the invitation. She looked back out to the grasslands, saying nothing.

"I'm not saying our situation's perfect," he explained, "it's been incredibly hard, and we've all felt it. But if we choose to think positively, I think you could argue there's been some good too."

"Good?" Sara repeated, trying to keep her tone calm despite her stunned disbelief. "There's no good in this. We're stuck in a world which has been ravaged by a pandemic, where the only survivors are cut-throat killers, we've all nearly been killed, I was nearly raped, we're cut off from everyone's families, and we have no help or contact whatsoever with the outside world. Did I miss the memo on the bright side, here?"

He did not challenge her, but listened with such complete calm and patient attention that she felt suddenly inadequate for her emotional outburst, and regretted commenting. He allowed her a moment before responding.

"We're stuck here, that's a given," Grissom said. "And everything you've just listed is an example of why it's been hard. We can't change what happened – we have no choice over that – but we are in control over how we respond to it. The truth is, we're not dead yet. And as long as we have each other, we're not alone either. I understand why you find it hard – you're someone who likes to feel secure, to feel in control and know what to expect when you get out of bed each day, and there's not much of that security here. But we have each other – we have our health and our friendship, and if we allow what happened to destroy us, then we might as well bury ourselves alive. There's still your life to be lived, and may not be exactly as planned, but we definitely haven't lost everything."

"The bright side," Sara said, softening as she understood what he meant. "That every glass is half full? That every cloud has a silver lining?"

"Perhaps," he said, shrugging. "If the person chooses to see it. You know, you say that we almost died on that trip to Vegas, and maybe that's true. We were lucky to escape with our lives. But I think maybe that's the point. I for one feel grateful that we didn't. I'm thankful that we all got out unscathed, that we get a second chance. I'm thankful every day that your attacker didn't succeed. I'm thankful Sofia survived that night when all the evidence says that she shouldn't have. And you know, I'm thankful that despite everything, out here it feels peaceful. I haven't seen a dead body or crime committed in over a month. There's no drugs, no violence … here, in our corner of the world, it's peaceful. And I'm grateful for that much."

Sara did not know what to say, his positivity clashing with her heavy sense of trauma. After a moment he stepped closer, and put an arm around her, massaging her shoulder and neck as he talked on into her ear.

"I know you're upset," he said. "It's okay to feel traumatised. But lean on me. Talk to me about it, and I can help. Let it out a little instead of bottling it up. If you do that, it'll make it worse. And if you can't talk to me, if what happened in Vegas is still bothering you, then talk to Catherine. She'll understand – she can help."

Sara looked back out to the horizon, to the clear blue sky, not knowing what to think. It was hard to pinpoint what bothered her, but as his reassuring hand massaged her shoulder, she could not bring herself to blame him for asking. It sat uncomfortably in the back of her mind that they had not made love for a month, not since that drunken night when they had returned from Vegas. She had not felt up to it since then, and though she knew he had to have noticed, and been wondering, he had not questioned her on it. Unlike most men, Grissom was wonderfully patient.

She looked back to him as he held her, and he responded by slipping his arms further around her, drawing her to him. She leaned her head against his chest, sighing and closing her eyes as his lips grazed her hair.

"I'm sorry," she confessed. "I know things haven't been the same lately, and that we haven't made love in –"

"This isn't about sex," he said, cutting in gently. "If you need time, that's fine. There's no rush."

He kissed her hair again, and she felt a rush of gratitude for his love. She knew he had been right, and that she had to talk to someone. It would be easy to talk to Catherine, to perhaps go upstairs with her and talk through her feelings over her assault – she knew Catherine, or even Sofia, would be nothing but understanding – but as Grissom held her she knew she did not want that. There was only one person she wanted to talk to about that issue.

"Can we talk?" she asked.

He did not even hesitate, but drew her with him to sit down in the grass, holding her hand.

"Sure," he said. "Come here."

And taking a deep breath, Sara began to talk.

XXX

They spoke for nearly an hour, sitting there in the sunshine by the old wooden fence, discussing everything from their abrupt arrival in their alternate world, to the future, and everything in between. Grissom held her the whole time, grasping her hand as she spoke about her fears and concerns, his fingers clutching and roving over hers, and then holding her to him as she spoke about her terror during her assault. It felt good to get it off her chest, good to sit there with his comforting arms around her as she shed a few tears, and good to know that it was all okay. She knew he loved her, that he had protected her when it had counted, and for that she felt nothing but powerful love for him. Logically, too, she knew that even if he had not been nearby and come to her rescue, the others would have saved her, and between this and his actions she felt protected, and able to leave the memory behind, like a weight lifted from her shoulders.

Somehow, inexplicably, the embrace had led to them making love right there in the grass, wrapped up in a moment of warmth and love which just seemed so natural. They did it slowly, gently re-exploring each other, Grissom taking his time to rain kisses over her naked chest as Sara straddled him, her back to the warm sun. When he took her left nipple in his mouth she drew in a sharp breath – and held it, a thought suddenly occurring to her.

"Wait, we can't, we need a –"

"I have one," he said.

His hand left her hip and rummaged in his pocket, pulling out a condom. She raised a teasing eyebrow, surprised.

"I didn't plan this," he assured, catching her smile. "It's coincidence, I promise."

"Sure it is," she replied, grinning.

He fumbled with it for a moment, and Sara hovered, wishing he would hurry up. It felt so wonderful in the sun, with him beneath her.

"Put it on," she commanded.

He tore open the plastic, but then hesitated.

"Are you sure you're ready?"

His eyes studied her, evidently wondering. She quickly kissed him in reply, and moved to tug down his shorts.

"I'm more than ready – right now I need you to hurry up."

She grinned as he slipped on the condom, and then he reached for her, holding her to him. The questioning look again appeared in his eyes, uncertain.

"Would you like to see the evidence?" she teased.

"As a matter of fact, I would," he replied, straight-faced.

She did not need to direct him, as his fingers slipped of their own accord between her legs to her panties, and she felt him probe the wet spot there through the fabric.

"Take them off," he ordered.

There was no graceful way to do this, and Sara ended up having to stand to achieve it, kicking them from her ankles as he sat on the ground, watching with an adoring smile. She giggled as she rejoined him, and his hands took her hips, positioning her.

She saw the questioning look again appear in his eyes, and hastened to wipe it from him.

"If you ask again you're in trouble," she teased.

He raised a hand in mock surrender.

"I'm at your service," he replied.

Sara smiled as she leaned forward to kiss him, and his arms encircled her as she slowly and carefully took him inside her. They took their time, both of them wanting and needing it to last, Sara absorbing his love with every movement. She came first – noisily, and rejoicing in the ability to make noise for once without the others listening in – and when he followed her he lay out of breath, flushed from the exertion. His arm moved to tug her against him, and she lay contently curled into his side.

She blinked in the bright sun, and the dry grass was slightly rough to lie naked upon, but she nevertheless felt very pleasantly satisfied.

"You know what I think?" she asked.

"What?" he replied.

"That was the best counselling session I've ever had."

He smiled, still out of breath but looking pleased with himself. "It's definitely better than the one I had with Nick."

She grinned. "I would certainly hope so."

He looked sideways to her, taking her in as she lay perched up on one elbow. His eyes dipped to her breasts.

"If you need any follow-up sessions, just let me know."

"I'll do that," she assured.

And after that, they made love again.

XXX

It was perhaps unfortunate that the second time they made love they chose to do it against the fence, as the result was a splinter in Sara's right hand. She felt little during the act itself; perched precariously on the top railing with her legs spread she felt nothing but euphoria as he thrust himself hungrily into her, hard and fast and making up for a month of lost opportunity, and it wasn't until she had orgasmed for a second time and slipped wearily off the railing that she felt the stinging in her index finger. Looking down to examine it, she saw the long splinter embedded under the skin, and winced. It was deep.

"I'm sorry," Grissom said, catching a glance as he pulled on his shorts. "Maybe I should've been a bit less vigorous."

"No," Sara said, grinning with afterglow. "You definitely shouldn't be less vigorous."

He grinned – somehow, even after two years, Grissom still always looked like the cat that got the cream after having sex with her. She was lucky that he had never grown tired of it.

"I can't see it well without my glasses," he said, holding her hand to examine it. "We'll have to get Catherine to pull it out back at the house – she has some tweezers."

"Then I guess I should be glad that it's in my finger and not somewhere else," Sara quipped. "That'd be a bit harder to explain."

"At least it would've stopped them joking about our 'roll in the hay'," he ventured.

"And replaced that joke with something far worse," Sara replied, putting her bra back on.

She nevertheless smiled as they headed up through the long grass back toward the house – looking out for snakes along the way – but quickly stifled the smile as they got closer, not wanting to give anything away. They walked up the back steps and through the house to the front verandah, where they found Catherine and Sofia relaxing as they watched the men splitting wood outside the barn. Warrick and Nick both had their shirts off, their bulging muscles glistening with sweat in the sunshine, and Sara saw Sofia slip Catherine a covert grin of appreciation as Nick took the axe. Quickly summing up the scene, Sara found it hard to tell who was enjoying themselves more – Nick trying to impress Sofia, or Sofia openly enjoying the view.

Grissom was oblivious.

"Catherine, we need the tweezers. Sara has a splinter in her finger."

Catherine looked up, distracted from where she had been leaning on the verandah railing, and quickly sighed, slipping into nurse mode.

"What did you do?" she asked.

"She got it climbing the fence down the back," Grissom said. "We went for a walk."

"You were gone nearly two hours," Sofia said, wandering over. "We were starting to get worried."

"We talked a while," Sara explained.

"She got woozy," Grissom said. "We had to sit down for a bit."

Though he said it seriously, his eyes were alight with playful adoration. Apart from his cat-that-got-the-cream expression, she had long found that Grissom was at his most playful after sex, when he felt relaxed, and did not mind teasing her to draw a smile out of her.

"You got woozy," Catherine repeated, deadpan.

After so many years working as a CSI, and wading through endless pools of blood, Sara was not surprised that Catherine found this impossible to believe.

"Tweezers, Catherine," Grissom reminded her, falling serious again.

"Cupboard in the bathroom, top shelf," she recited.

Grissom disappeared to fetch them for her, but as soon as he was through the door Sofia's face split into an intuitive smile.

"Tell me you didn't," she said, as Catherine similarly raised an amused eyebrow.

Deciding to quickly head them off – at least for now – Sara lied.

"Actually, we didn't," she said. She let her expression turn serious as she thought back over what they had in fact talked about. "We sat down and spoke about what happened that day, in that room in Vegas."

Sofia's smile vanished, replaced by instant concern.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Sara said, truthfully. "We went through the whole thing, we talked about it, and it's okay. I'm going to be fine."

"Honestly?" Catherine asked, peering at her closely.

"Honestly," Sara confirmed. Then, already missing Grissom's arms, chanced adding, "Can I have a hug, though?"

"Always," Catherine said, reaching for her. "You don't even have to ask."

She pecked Sara on the cheek, and hugged her warmly. As she held her she spoke in Sara's ear.

"If you need to talk, come to me, okay? I'm here for you."

"Thanks," Sara replied, hugging her back.

Catherine had a way at saying exactly what Sara needed to hear, and though she was not as good with words as Catherine was, she returned her hug with deep sincerity, more grateful than she could ever express for her friendship. As they parted Sofia moved in, and Sara gratefully accepted a warm hug from her too before Grissom returned.

"Here," he said, handing Catherine the tweezers.

"You'd better do it," she said, handing them in turn to Sofia. "Your eyes are younger."

Sofia drew Sara over into the sunlight, and then spent a moment examining the wound before moving in.

"This thing's deep," she reported. "If you're squeamish, you might want to look away."

Sara felt Grissom's hand on her back, as if just in case she was squeamish, but elected all the same not to watch. She focused ahead instead at Nick splitting the wood, and felt Sofia tighten her grip on her fingers before the tweezers made contact.

"Hold very still …"

Sara kept her eyes averted as she felt Sofia gently dig around, but a moment later it was over.

"Got it," Sofia reported, removing the tweezers. "You'll need to apply some antiseptic, though, we can't afford for anything to get infected out here."

She passed Sara's hand back to Catherine, who was ready with the bottle to cleanse the wound.

"Thanks," Sara said.

As Catherine dabbed at the wound, Grissom narrowed his eyes with sudden puzzlement, as if wondering at their choice of location squeezed into the far corner of the verandah, when the swing seat was perfectly vacant at the other end.

"Why are we standing here, anyway?" he asked Sofia.

Sofia looked around, and for a brief moment her eyes met Sara's, sharing a smile, but when she answered him her tone was serious.

"We're … just enjoying the view," she said.

Grissom looked out to the fields, his eyes completely passing over Nick and Warrick.

"Well it's good to see you getting some air," he said kindly.

Sofia shared a flicker of amused disbelief with Catherine, who had to fight not to laugh.

"That's not what she meant," she said, giving him a look.

Grissom was completely at sea for a moment – until Sara let her eyes drift significantly to Nick by the barn, who threw a split log onto a growing pile inside the door. When autumn came and the cooler nights hit, they would need firewood, and now seemed as a good a time as any to start gathering it.

Catching on, his eyes snapped back to Sofia in alarm, and he held out a hand as if to stall her, searching for words.

"What?" she asked, puzzled by his expression.

"You need to take it easy," he said carefully.

Sofia smiled. "I am taking it easy. In case you haven't noticed, I haven't lifted anything heavier than a tampon in over a month now. I can't take it any easier than that."

"Relax, we're just window shopping," Catherine said, coming to her rescue. "Girl talk."

Grissom looked uncertain, and his eyes hovered between them for a moment before Catherine slipped him a covert look of warning.

Sara put a hand to his elbow to draw him away, but Grissom didn't seem to feel it.

"Just be careful," he said to Sofia. "Take care of yourself. We're all just concerned."

Though he steered carefully around saying it, Sara had an inkling of what he was referring to – to the dangers of Sofia putting pressure on her body if she engaged in a physical relationship. Although it had been a month since her collapse, they could still not be sure that she was all right. Her headaches remained, some days worse than others, but it remained possible that she had a bleed in the brain, and it was for this reason that they had banned her from all physical exertion. They had to assume something was badly wrong, and that it could still drop her in a second if they put her under strain. The first time they had been very lucky, the next time they might not be.

It was a suspicion which was confirmed by the discrete look of warning in Catherine's eyes, and the sudden awkwardness in Sofia's.

"I'll be fine," she said.

"Good," he replied.

He clutched her shoulder, and she nodded to him, accepting the gesture. But as he turned to take the tweezers and antiseptic from Catherine there remained a wistful look in his eyes, as if he wished they could only have her health status confirmed.

It was a feeling Sara shared, and after he had disappeared back inside Sara turned to her, slipping an arm around her shoulders.

"You'll be fine," she said, spotting the look of faint anxiety still in her eyes. "You've come such a long way already, a bit more rest and it'll be nothing more than a memory."

"Yeah," Sofia said curtly, "A bad one."

And gently shrugging Sara's arm from her shoulders, she retreated back inside.

Another one of those chapters where there's just no ideal place to cut it - so the cut goes here, and the rest will have to wait for the next one. It's funny sometimes how characters have minds of their own - you tell them to do one thing and they end up doing another. I told Grissom to talk to Sara and they ended up having sex - wasn't planned I promise - that was their idea, not mine. Next chapter will continue the Nick/Sofia & Cath/Warrick threads, before I bring back in some more action.

Would love to hear what you think - hopefully it's going okay... Anna.