Autumn came, and with it, the cooler days arrived. The scorching heat of summer faded until it was long behind them, and the days became both shorter and more temperate. The skies remained a perfect blue, the sunshine pleasant, but they were now preceded by the first hint of a chill in the air, the dawn blanketed by mists hovering serenely over the fields, the grass now covered by glistening dew. Sara now routinely hunted for her jeans and shoes before she left for her morning walks, but came to appreciate them more as she took in the changing of the seasons. Apart from the mists and the dew, she saw with satisfaction that parts of the fields were recovering a hint of green, and that the three beautiful old oak trees around the house were starting to lose their leaves as they prepared to bed down for winter.

The nights, too, changed. The cooler temperatures caused Sara to dig in their wardrobe in search of a second blanket for their bed, and the window which had previously remained open of a night was now firmly closed. Her love life with Grissom also improved as a result of the cooler weather, the chill causing them to snuggle into each other, and Sara found themselves cosily making love nearly every night. It still happened silently, the walls too thin for noise, and yet under the glow of soft moonlight, and in that cosy old country bed, it was nothing short of blissful. Indeed, as autumn settled in it brought with it such a sense of serene calm that Sara found that she was quite content with life, the trauma now behind them, the days now so pleasant that she no longer missed Vegas, and some days, did not even remember to think about it.

The others, too, relaxed. Grissom, who had previously spent so much time guarding the mental health of the team, now settled down into a new life of trips to town and long nature walks, and also took up cooking and resumed his interest in entomology. Sara watched with amusement as he returned from one trip to town with a fish tank he had rescued from a far outlying farm, wheeling it all the way back to the house in a wheelbarrow before he set it up on the front verandah as a house for his new charges. He unearthed an old rickety table from the barn to stand it on, dusting off the cobwebs, and then went to forage for sticks and leaves to furnish it with. Catherine paused outside the kitchen door as she watched him carefully layer the leaves into the tank, her face contorted with a look of combined amusement and revulsion.

"Tell me that's not coming inside the house," she said bluntly.

Grissom looked up at her, where she stood with her arms folded, and held out a placating hand.

"It's staying out here. You won't have to touch it."

"Or clean it," Sara said, knowing what she was thinking.

It had caused Sara some amusement over the preceding months to watch the two attempt to adjust to living with each other. Doing each other's laundry they could handle, and hanging each other's underclothes out to dry, or folding them afterwards, caused no discernible awkwardness. Yet Catherine had complained loudly at the "stink" Grissom had left in the bathroom when he had retreated in there for an hour with a crossword, and similarly, when Grissom had stumbled in on Catherine waxing her legs, one foot perched up on the toilet seat, he had hovered in the doorway with such a look of confused displacement that Sara had been moved to investigate. Catherine, unfazed as ever, merely joked that she was about to do her bikini line if he wanted to hang around and watch that too, causing Grissom to quickly flee. Sara shared a laugh about it with Catherine and Sofia later, but it had been just one of many moments in which he had had to adjust to living with three women.

Leaning against the verandah railing, Sara actually felt pleased that Grissom had found another hobby to occupy him, but found that her sympathy still did not quite extend to reaching in and getting her own hands dirty.

Sofia, apparently, felt the same.

"You know," she said, adopting a look of distant thought, "I was just thinking that what we really need around here is a few more bugs."

"You can never have too many creepy crawlies," Catherine chimed in.

"Did you know the ecosystem would collapse without them?" Grissom challenged. "That human beings themselves would cease to exist?"

"No," Sofia said. "But I'd be fascinated to hear all about it."

Grissom stopped just in time, realising as he opened his mouth to speak that she was smiling. He hesitated.

"You're winding me up."

"Only a little," she admitted.

He stood, dusting off his hands in an effort to expel the granules of mud stubbornly stuck to his fingers. Sara, though she privately agreed with Sofia, felt sorry for him as he tried to wipe them clean.

"You know everyone needs a hobby," she said fairly.

Catherine nodded. "Whatever happened to stamp collecting?"

"Well unfortunately they're in short supply," Grissom said.

He passed a small smile to Sara, grateful as ever for her allegiance, and a short while later Catherine and Sofia retreated for a walk up the nearby hillside. All of them went for walks so often now that they had carved out trails in the grass, the dirt paths snaking their up the hills and down into the meadows, and here and there were sections in which a large patch of grass was flattened, marking their favourite viewpoints where they had whiled away lazy afternoons. It had been a while before any of them had let Sofia partake in the walks, but gradually, ever so carefully, Catherine had begun to encourage it. Sofia's weeks on the couch had taken a toll on her physical fitness, and as her muscles wasted Catherine became concerned. The result was daily walks and light exercise, and as her headaches improved it had become ever more frequent. Now, as Sara watched the two disappear over the rise, she found herself reflecting on how far Sofia had come. Three months on from her head injury, she was just about back to her old self, and had even participated on her first hike to town, but the months had not passed without trouble.

The trouble came in the form of Nick. Sara had known all along that Nick and Sofia nurtured soft spots for each other, but as the weeks passed after Sofia's collapse it had become apparent that their relationship had evolved. It happened subtly, so discretely that Sara could not even pinpoint exactly when it had happened, but nevertheless the signs began to show. Nick fussed over her health, regularly fetching her water or asking Catherine for medication, and when she was struck down by pain, he was the first to her side. On the bad days he sat with her hours, distracting her from the pain with tales of his childhood, cheeky tales of his Texas upbringing which drew a smile to Sofia's face. The first time this had happened Sara had been in the armchair opposite reading, and as Nick's story progressed and his tone lowered so that they were both completely oblivious to her presence, she began to feel suddenly intrusive. When she saw him take her hand, she slipped quietly from the room, taking her book to read out on the swing seat on the verandah.

Thereafter the two became increasingly affectionate with each other. They hugged each other good morning and goodnight – long, intimate hugs in which they held each other so closely that Sara, inadvertently passing them in the corridor upstairs, felt guilty for intruding upon their private moment. They hugged, too, frequently during the day, Nick the first to hug her when she was in pain, feeling low, or often just because she was there. His arm seemed to be permanently draped around her shoulders or rested around her waist, and Sofia smiled at his touches. Soon after, Sara had returned from her routine morning walk to find the two of them kissing in the kitchen, Nick with her pressed up back against the kitchen bench as he gently devoured her, and Sara had stopped short as the wire door clanged noisily behind her.

Nick and Sofia quickly broke apart, both turning to her.

"I'm sorry," Sara said, feeling herself go red. "I didn't mean to –"

"It's okay," Nick said, stepping away from Sofia to invite her in. "Don't fret, it's your house too. Come on in, we were just making breakfast."

They took it so casually that Sara immediately suspected that it was not their first kiss, and it was a suspicion which was confirmed a few hours later when she confessed the scene to Grissom and Catherine in the confines of the barn. The nights were getting cool, and they had begun to light the fire in the evenings to ward off the chill which leaked in through the windows. Nick and Warrick had stored enough firewood in the barn to survive an apocalypse – which Sara considered was a good thing – and as she set the tray down on a hay bale to load it, she had confessed the story to her two friends.

"… You know I actually felt embarrassed," she finished, "but they didn't even bat an eyelid."

"They've been tight for a while," Grissom said, picking up a particularly heavy log to load it for her. "He can barely let go of her long enough to go to the bathroom."

"I walked in on them playing tonsil hockey yesterday," Catherine contributed, brushing a stray piece of straw from her jeans. "They were cosied up on the window seat of our bedroom when I walked in. He had his hand halfway up her shirt."

Grissom paused with his hand around a log.

"Do you think that's wise?"

"Why are you looking at me?" she asked, shrugging. "It wasn't my hand."

"Or her shirt," Sara quipped, sharing a smile with the redhead.

"That's not the point," Grissom said. "She's still having headaches. Granted, they're less than they were, but we still can't be sure she's healed. If she continues to improve, we might know then, but right now, if she proceeds into a sexual relationship and there is damage … the pressure on her blood vessels, the rise in blood pressure alone if she orgasms …"

Catherine nodded, looking disturbed.

"I know," she said quietly.

"I don't think it's worth the risk," he finished.

Sara sat down on a hay bale, watching the dying afternoon sun play on the smattering of straw that littered the entrance to the barn. She was in two minds – fully agreeing with Grissom's concerns, and yet sympathetic to the fact that it was none of their business. It was hard to know what to do.

"The problem is, it's not up to us," she ventured. "She's an adult, it's her body, she has the right to make her own choices."

"Exactly," Catherine said. "And if we confront them on it, they'll dig their heels in. No one likes to be lectured on what they can and can't do."

"I'm not talking about lecturing her," Grissom said. "Just making sure that they both understand the risks, and that he's careful."

"Well if you want to sit them both down and have a sex talk, go right ahead," Catherine said. "But I'm sure she already understands the risks. She's the one who's been living with this for the last few months. And she's not stupid – she's at least as smart as any of us. She knows clearly what's going on."

"Besides," Sara said, feeling strangely flat, "short of strapping her into a chastity belt, there's nothing we can do to stop them."

"I agree. And she knows her body, what's she's capable of, we just have to trust her."

Grissom still looked worried, but resigned, he nodded. He loaded the last log into the tray beside Sara, and Sara heard nothing more about it until later that night. She had just been wondering if they had done the right thing, if they should be working harder to protect Sofia after their previous failure to protect her, when Sofia surprised them by unexpectedly raising the subject herself.

Sara had been sitting on the window seat of their bedroom, calmly watching the first of the night stars begin to twinkle over the desert, when she realised that all had fallen quiet around her. The three women frequently hung out in the upstairs bedroom together, and though it was never planned, Sara had been pleasantly surprised to discover just how much she had missed having female friends. It had been years since she'd really had any – since being a CSI she had had few friends at all, let alone close female confidantes – and the strength of the friendship that had grown between herself and Catherine and Sofia had been one of the more pleasant surprises of their situation. It was so nice to hang out with the girls again, to share and joke, to feel like a woman again. As she took in the view that night she had kept her eyes averted as Sofia changed – putting on a pair of flannel pyjamas which she had long adopted – but then stopped as the silence failed to break.

She glanced over her shoulder: Catherine was by her bed, tossing of a pair of dirty socks into the makeshift laundry hamper that stood in the corner, but Sofia was sat quietly on her bed, apparently lost in thought.

"You okay?" Sara asked.

She saw Catherine's eyes instinctively search out Sofia, but Sofia didn't immediately respond. She looked dejected, her ponytail hanging forward over her shoulder, and was far too engrossed in some mystery in her fingertips.

"Just thinking," she replied.

Catherine raised an eyebrow. "It doesn't look like a happy thought."

"What's up?" Sara asked.

She knew Sofia well enough by now to know that something was wrong, and left the window seat to go join her on the bed. Sofia had the softest bed in the house, the handmade patchwork quilt so thick that Sara sank into it, but Sofia paid her no heed.

"Come on," Catherine said, crossing the worn rug barefoot to join them. "You can talk to us. You know the three of us don't have any secrets – not these days."

It was the truth. It was not only Grissom's relationship with Catherine that had changed with their living together – the same was true for all of them. Sara knew her friends now so intimately that there wasn't much at all about them that escaped her notice. It was not only the small things – she knew all their moods, wounds and idiosyncrasies, but also knew a lot of what was private. She knew about their sex lives – that Catherine and Warrick were both heroically abstaining until things calmed; she knew what underwear they wore and their preferences, and she even knew when it was their time of month. With them sharing a bathroom, and fetching supplies for each other from town it was impossible to hide, and the last time Catherine had gone to town she had returned with a pack of pads for Sara without even being asked. She simply knew, able to read the signs with flawless women's intuition. It was this same intuition now which told Sara what was coming, evident in Sofia's downcast body language.

"Is this about Nick?" she probed. "Did something happen?"

She knew she had hit the nail on the head when Sofia's eyes flew up, surprised.

"You can tell us," Catherine said, placing a hand on her knee.

Sofia took a breath. "It's just … with what happened to me the other month … I know what you're all thinking."

Sara hesitated, not committing to what she hoped would not be a dire conversation about the prospect of death. She did not want to depress her by discussing it.

"Thinking what?" Catherine asked.

"About my relationship with Nick," Sofia said. "Where it stands. I know Grissom's worried."

"Sofia," Sara said, shaking her head, "it's your body, not Grissom's. He's not the one sleeping with Nick, you are. And you know better than anyone how you feel."

"Just do what feels right," Catherine said, rubbing her knee. "If you feel fine, go for it. If not, just tell him you need more time – Nick will understand."

Sofia nodded, though did not look more at ease.

"Are you worried?" Sara asked.

"A little," Sofia admitted.

Sara did not hold it against her, knowing that anyone would be a fool to not be worried, and she slipped an arm around her friend's waist, holding her.

"It's your call," she said. "It might not mean that you can't, just that you'd be wise to be gentle. Make sure he knows how you feel, that you both take it easy, at a time when you're both ready."

"And remember, there's no rush," Catherine added. "There's no reason why you have to jump into bed right away. Take your time – let yourself heal a little more."

"You've … waited with Warrick?"

Sofia's eyes probed Catherine for a response, and Catherine hesitated for a moment before plunging into an honest answer.

"Yes, we have. I'll admit it's not my usual style, and you know initially it was at Grissom's request – he was worried about where my head was, that it was too soon, and Warrick respects Grissom so much that he refused to lay a hand on me. But, you know now I think he's right. In Vegas, it's different, but stranded out here … we're so isolated, living in each other's pockets … if something goes wrong, it could get awkward. Plus we've all been traumatised, and I think that alone is reason to wait."

"But, you will…?"

"When the time's right," Catherine answered, nodding. "And maybe we're getting there. But for the first time in my life, I'm content to wait."

Sara stayed silent, unable to contribute to the topic of abstaining. Herself and Grissom had been doing it nearly every day, whether in bed at night or out in a secluded meadow on their long daily walk, and she also knew that both Sofia and Catherine knew this. They knew her as intimately as she knew them.

"Just talk to him," Catherine said. "Tell him you need time. "And if it makes you feel better, I'll wait with you. Then there's no pressure."

Sofia looked up. "You'd do that?"

"For you, yes. In a heartbeat."

Catherine said it so firmly and sincerely that Sofia simply stared at her for a moment, but then her features melted into a smile, touched. The two reached for each other and hugged, Sofia pecking her on the cheek.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"You're welcome," Catherine replied.

Though touched at what Catherine had done, Sara was nevertheless secretly glad that she did not have to chip in to the vow of chastity, and was even more glad to learn that Warrick took it well. She happened to overhear the conversation – Catherine not bothering to hide it from her as they made coffee in the kitchen the next morning – and though Warrick looked surprised, he did not seem to mind at all.

"You promised that?" he asked.

"I had to," Catherine said, quietly apologetic. "I think she needs some support for a while. She has Nick pressuring her, Grissom and Sara already involved, and if it's us too it just makes it worse. Hopefully it won't be for long – just a few weeks until her headaches clear up."

"If her headaches clear, then we'll know she's okay," Warrick agreed. "That'll mean her brain's healing."

"Right," Catherine agreed. "Besides," she added coyly, hand on his belt, "I'll make it up to you."

Out of the corner of her eye Sara saw Warrick's eyes light up with rapt interest. His hands encircled her waist.

"Well I like the sound of that," he teased.

He moved to kiss her, and Catherine pressed herself up against his chest as she let him. Her mouth opened quickly, and Sara, tempted to clear her throat but resisting the urge, moved instead into the living room to give them privacy. Privacy was not easy to come by when they all lived together, but she considered that Catherine and Warrick had probably both earned a few moments of it.

It was the same lack of privacy that led Sara to also overhear Sofia's conversation with Nick, which occurred out on the verandah as Sara dried the dinner dishes with Grissom. The nearby kitchen door was open, the wire door the only thing separating them from the night, and Nick and Sofia's voices wafted in from their position out on the swing seat.

"You make me sound like a sex maniac," Nick complained. "I'm not an addict, I can wait. I care about you."

"It's just … I know you'd rather not," Sofia said.

"Well if you were healthy, maybe, but you had a serious head injury, I understand that. It's okay, all right? Don't worry about it, we can be patient. We'll wait 'til you're ready. I mean just because Grissom and Sara are humping all over the place, it doesn't mean we have to – it's not a competition, here."

"Humping?"

There was a tilt of a laugh in Sofia's voice. Sara looked sideways to Grissom, trying to bite down on a smile. He raised an eyebrow, merely intrigued.

"Well whatever you want to call it," Nick said. "He hasn't put her down since we got here. He's a leader, you'd think he'd be setting an example here."

"He's in love," Sofia argued. "And what makes you think it's Grissom initiating it?"

"What are you saying?"

"Nothing. Just that she's thirty-five and in her prime."

There was a pause.

"What?" Sofia queried.

"Nothing," Nick replied. "Just thinking … you two are the same age …"

Sofia laughed. "Three months apart. You can call that something to look forward to."

There was the sound of the two sharing a quick kiss, and then a contented sigh from Sofia, as if the two were embracing.

"Don't worry about it, okay?" Nick said. "We're good. I'll take care of you."

There was the sound of more kissing – sedate, loving, and in no hurry whatsoever – and Sara was glad when she looked down and saw they had only one plate left to go. It allowed for a quick escape to give them some privacy – something she had been doing a lot of since the other two couples had hooked up.

By the time autumn had set in and Grissom had adopted his insect tank, little had changed. Sofia's headaches continued to improve, and Sara finally allowed herself to believe that her friend was healing. The realisation was accompanied by a deep sense of relief, the fear and risks fading like the summer heat behind them, and with it came a period of perfect contentment. Sara spent her days hiking, reading, and engaging in trips to town, and the group also shared regular picnics together. Sara watched Catherine sink into Warrick's arms, resting sleepily in the 'V' between his legs, and knew from the way his fingers played with her waistband that they were struggling to hold on. Yet looking at Nick and Sofia, who were hopelessly glued to each other like newlyweds, Sara knew that none of them would have long to wait, and that as soon as an opportune moment presented itself, the four of them would all collapse into bed like dominoes.

She realised with a smile that she did not care, and all in all, life seemed too perfect to be true – so blissful that it seemed like a lifetime ago that they had lived in Las Vegas. It was a cruel twist of fate that the bliss cracked barely a week later, and Sara began to feel strangely ill.

It struck her at the kitchen table, when they were all gathered for lunch, and as she felt her stomach turn she rested her head in her hand for a moment, trying to steady herself.

Around her the others talked on, unaware.

"Put her down," Warrick scolded, addressing Nick who had tugged Sofia into his lap on the chair opposite. "Meal times are family time."

This had become one of their few house rules – along with a rotating roster for household chores – and Sofia laughed as she untangled herself and slipped into the chair next to him. It was then that Sara felt Grissom's hand on the back of her neck, his fingers in the ends of her hair.

"Sara?"

"You okay?" Catherine added.

Suddenly all eyes were locked on her, and Sara dropped her hand, making an effort to smile.

"I'm fine," she lied.

The chair next to her scraped against the floor as Grissom sat down beside her. His scientist's eyes began anxiously probing her, cataloguing symptoms.

"You look pale," he said. A hand touched her forehead. "You're warm."

"I feel a little under the weather," Sara admitted.

With a wave of the hand Grissom summoned up a volunteer to find her a glass of water, and it was soon placed in front of her.

"You've been working too hard," Warrick said, joining them at the table. "You've taken four trips to town in five days, and you're eating next to nothing. You're overdoing it."

"The man's got a point," Nick agreed. "You don't have to be a superhero here, why don't you take it easy for a while? Take a few days off."

"Rejuvenate," Catherine said, watching her. "No reason you have to strain yourself."

Sara did not reply. Her stomach turned; she felt ready to throw up.

"You look ill," Grissom pressed, his hand sinking to her back. "Have some water. Cool off."

But Sara's stomach turned again, and she shifted as she felt the bile inching upward.

"Sara?"

She threw her chair back. "I'm gonna be sick –"

She bolted for the downstairs toilet, and seconds later, it started.

XXX

Hours later, Sofia lingered awkwardly in the kitchen, searching carefully for words of comfort. Sara had vomited several times before they had carried her to bed with a bucket and a cold compress, and though both Grissom and Catherine had questioned her – asking her about everything from her temperature to her digestive habits – they were no more enlightened as to the cause. Sofia did not feel worried exactly – anxious was a better word – but as she saw Grissom lean weakly back against the bench, his eyes shifting with fear, she understood how he felt. Sick in the civilised world was one thing, but sick without any medical aid was quite another. She knew that first hand.

She searched for words of comfort.

"I'm sure she's fine. Either she's just picked up a passing bug, or she's exhausted herself. "

"We'll keep an eye on her," Catherine said, passing him a coffee she had made for him. "Don't worry."

She rubbed his arm, but Grissom didn't look even faintly reassured.

"This hasn't happened before. It's not normal for her to get sick like this."

"Come on, man," Nick said. "We all get sick. It doesn't mean it's anything to be worried about, she'll probably be fine in the morning."

"For all we know, it's something inane," Warrick agreed. "Could just be her time of month."

"Vomiting?" Sofia said, doubtful.

"Well it's not implausible," Nick said. "I mean, it's hardly my area of expertise, but I knew a girl who used to get sick like that. Fell sick every month. She was always fine a day or two later."

"I'm betting she was a lot younger than Sara," Catherine said.

Grissom placed his coffee aside, looking too distracted to drink it.

"It's not period pain. If it was just that, she'd tell me."

"Besides, it's not her time," Catherine added.

Nick stared. "How do women know that?"

"Intuition," Sofia said, agreeing with her.

After three months of living with Sara, she could read her like a book – and for all intents and purposes Sara might as well have had it printed on her forehead. But Sofia kept her friend's secrets, and chose not to let on without reason.

"Either way, I'm sure it's nothing to worry about," Nick said. "She'll be fine in the morning, you just wait and see."

"Let's not panic without reason," Catherine said. "If I'd panicked every time Lindsey had vomited I'd be in a mental asylum by now."

Grissom looked across at her, and for the first time the tension in his face eased. He seemed to latch onto this thought.

"You're right," he said.

"Of course she is," Warrick said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it, Griss, she'll be fine."

But it was outside a short while later that another thought struck Sofia, and alone on the verandah with Catherine, watching the stars twinkle in the sky, she paused, her mind wrestling with the sums. All the days of the last few weeks seemed to run into each other, and they had long stopped keeping track of them, yet all the same …

"Sofia?"

Sofia turned to stare at her friend, the thought striking her as it solidified.

"Has she even had it lately?"

Catherine stared. "Had what? You mean her period?"

Sofia did not answer, holding silent while Catherine's mind worked to catch up. And in the space of a few seconds, the expression on Catherine's face changed – morphing from contentment to puzzled thought, and then nervous horror.

"She can't be," she said.

"I hope not," Sofia replied.

The thought was unthinkable, terrifying … but staring at each other, each of them doing the mental arithmetic, Sofia had a horrible feeling that they had come to the same answer. Sofia suspected Sara had not had it since her own relationship with Nick had started, and though she had long lost track of time, she knew that was much more than a month ago. A whole season had passed since then.

"I think we may have a problem," she whispered.

Catherine took a moment, but then nodded.

"All right," she said, recovering with a deep breath. "You find a knife, and I'll castrate him."

"Gladly," Sofia replied.

Can't believe how long this took to write, but the first few drafts were so dreadful that I couldn't even bear to think of posting them. I'm comparatively happy with this one. Full credit to the reviewer "AA" who somehow saw this coming in the previous chapters. I thought I'd hidden it quite well, but there you go! :)

Thanks to those who left feedback and apologies again for the delay - Anna.