The rain stopped, and morning dawned. Sara watched from the kitchen window as the grey clouds rolled out, only for another equally dreary set to roll in. Mother Nature evidently had no intention of letting up in its wintry blast, nor of allowing anything to dry off, and the landscape outside remained grey and waterlogged throughout the morning. A thick fog hovered over the fields, surrounding the house like a fortress, and when Grissom slipped out at dawn to search for their foe, checking they were alone, he returned a few minutes later with the bottom three inches of his jeans soaked with water, damp from walking through the grass.

The house was toasty warm, and after Sara found him some fresh pants they settled themselves back in the kitchen, whiling away the morning in peaceful company. Sara crept in every so often to check on her friends, adjusting the odd blanket and stoking the fire, but more or less let them sleep, and in the end it was midday before the house gradually stirred and yawned its way back into life, and Sara heard the first footsteps approach the kitchen table, where she sat with Grissom.

"Scrabble again?" Catherine greeted.

Sara had indeed been playing Scrabble, having been coaxed by Grissom into helping him fill the lonely hours, and the board lay half completed between them. They had also long relaxed, and Grissom had his feet up on a spare chair, a pair of bright fluffy red socks visible to Catherine's trained eye, but she only smiled to herself as Grissom idly raided the letter bag, unfazed.

"I like the exercise the mind," he covered.

"We're just passing the time," Sara said, more truthfully.

She knew that Scrabble to Grissom was an interest, just as all games were that involved logic or vocabulary, but to Sara it was merely a means to an end, and if anything a way to unwind with those she loved.

She pushed her letter tray aside, and had swung her feet to the floor before Catherine had even stepped into the room, meeting her halfway around the table beside his chair.

"How do you feel?" Sara asked. "Okay?"

She posed the question as she hugged her, taking Catherine's thin frame into her arms, and though she was not surprised when Catherine lied – telling her that she was fine – she saw the real answer in her friend's demeanour. Her hair was ruffled, as though from bad sleep, and despite the fact that her manner was as confident as ever, and her affection genuine, she remained in the hug slightly longer than normal, lingering there a little as Sara rubbed her back, and upon parting her eyes flitted instinctively to the door, passing over the bolt.

Sara had seen that look the previous night, and understood it instantly.

"We're safe," she said, deciding to nip it in the bud. "There's no one out there."

Catherine looked vaguely sceptical.

"I've checked around," Grissom added. "I went out this morning, took a good look, there's nothing out there but puddles and mud – we're safe."

Sara nodded to indicate her agreement; though Grissom had prevented her from accompanying him – flatly refusing her presence due to her pregnancy – she knew his checks had been thorough. He did not take the safety of the team lightly, and he had been gone a good ten minutes before he had trudged back to the house, dripping wet and reporting that they were completely isolated. Sara knew too that if their foe had intended to bother them, it would have happened immediately the previous night – and not after twelve hours the next afternoon.

"Safe," Catherine repeated, evidently stuck on Grissom's word. A doubtful look flashed over her face, as if struck by their naïve innocence. "Are you sure there's any such thing?"

"We're as safe as we can be," Grissom assured.

"We've been awake all night," Sara said. "We're armed, and we've been watching the outside carefully. There's no one about."

"It's silent as a cemetery," Grissom added.

He meant it well, but earned a swift glare for his efforts, Catherine stiffening in an instant.

"Bad analogy," she said.

She looked for a moment like she wanted to roll her eyes, or possibly retreat back to the fire, but Sara rubbed her back, fingers massaging between her shoulder blades, and with a glance to her Catherine softened. Her eyes passed again over the door, and then to the window where the blind rested part way open, and then seeing that Sara had caught the glance, abruptly looked away, her pride damaged.

Sara drew her closer, lowering her voice.

"Cat, I'll say this now before the others get up, but if you're feeling it – after what happened last night – you know that's perfectly okay. It's normal to feel a few shockwaves after something like that. It's okay to feel on edge. I know it's hard to feel safe. Just take it easy, okay?"

"Sara's right," Grissom said, backing her up before Catherine could flee – or launch into stubborn denial which was gathering momentum all over her face. "You've had a scare, just rest for a while. And if you're feeling unsafe, then stay with us. We'll help. We'll protect you."

"I don't need protection," Catherine said, unable to help herself as she fixed them with a steely stare. But under Sara's arm she nevertheless softened, looking embarrassed and grateful all in one. "But thanks."

"You're welcome," Sara said.

"We're a family," Grissom added, matter-of-factly pulling out a chair for her. "We're here for you."

Catherine softened over the next few minutes, relaxing into the coffee that Sara made for her, and by the time she drained the mug there was no trace of bruised pride which had afflicted her only a few moments earlier. She even took over Sara's hand at Scrabble, happily duelling Grissom, and remained there until Warrick emerged, barely ten minutes later and looking distinctly dishevelled.

He had a bad case of pillow hair, and walked with a sore gait as though everything ached – but even more than that was the fact that he largely ignored them all. He rubbed at his eyes, woefully tired, and murmured only a half-hearted greeting as he slipped into a chair beside Catherine. Catherine's hand landed straight on his elbow, and Sara took one look at him before moving to find him a jacket, helping him slip it on comfortingly over his bare arms, and Grissom promptly made him a coffee. It was all they could do until he chose to open up to them, which still seemed a long way off, and though they made queries into his health he replied only that his calf muscles were sore, strained from the "walk from hell" during the night. Catherine's eyes were full of dark understanding, and the two shared something that Sara knew she could only ever guess at, but he seemed grateful nonetheless for the comfort they offered, and when Grissom placed the steaming mug in front of him he muttered a tired "thanks", and even reached to briefly squeeze Sara's hand.

Nick, when he padded in a short while later, was in a similar state. Though he looked equally sore he was a lot more affectionate than Warrick, and enveloped Sara straight in a hug, holding her close. He too, though, seemed to not want to talk about it, and quickly fended off Sara's queries into his health with a comment about the weather, and the blinding fog outside. Indeed, of the three of them, Sara had to quickly accept that the only one who felt even remotely comfortable talking about it was Catherine – who had been coaxed into pouring her heart out the night before – and both the men at least would need more time before they felt comfortable in doing the same.

Sara knew that moment would come – and that Grissom would likely take them aside later to ensure they were okay – and yet as the day progressed the only one who felt directly comfortable in even acknowledging it was Sofia, and even then because she simply had no energy left to deny it.

When she didn't appear for breakfast Sara tiptoed in to check on her, and found her lying awake by the fire. The room was dim – the blinds closed to allow the group to sleep – and Sara let her eyes adjust before she crouched down by the single mattress – the one Grissom had carried down for her hours earlier before they had put her to bed.

She lay now on her back, her blonde hair swept to one side, and she looked away from Sara as Sara settled in beside her, as if sensing what was coming.

"Hey," Sara greeted.

She was extremely gentle, still wary of Sofia's fragile state the night before, and slipped her hand in to hold her friend's, where it lay still atop the blanket.

"Hey," Sofia replied.

Her voice was flat, though Sara felt at least grateful that she was able to talk at all, which was still an improvement on the previous night. Seizing on this quickly, she talked on, settling onto the edge of the mattress.

"How do you feel? You feel okay?"

"I don't know," Sofia replied.

It was the most honest answer she had ever given, and she closed her eyes as she said it, as if overwhelmed by the thousand troubles that Sara saw ripple through her tight expression.

It was all she could do to try and tease them out, before they festered into something more permanent.

"You know," she began, "we had a talk with Catherine last night. She told us everything. And I understand if you'd rather not talk about it, but I just want you to know that we're here for you. We understand."

Sofia watched her for a moment, weighing up the offer.

"You're referring to that man in the desert?" she said. "The one who followed us?"

"I know you had a close encounter with him."

Sofia shook her head, looking strangely at ease.

"That doesn't bother me. He was just some loser who saw an opportunity. I was armed, I was never in any danger. And aside from that, the others came to help."

"All right," Sara said, nodding.

She had to admire her friend's strength – but there were no lies apparent in her relaxed gaze. Apparently she had no doubts that she would have shot him, should the need have come, and it made Sara realise that in Sofia's long career in PD, she had probably faced far worse threats than a pervert lingering in the bushes.

"Honestly, if I went into a spin about every guy that found me attractive, I wouldn't have lasted five minutes in PD," Sofia went on, fixing Sara with a frank look. "You know that feeling as well as I do."

"I do," Sara agreed.

She knew full well what it was like to work in a testosterone-charged environment, and it took some getting used to.

"Then it's something else?" she went on. "You feel exhausted? Tired from all this …"

Sofia was nodding.

"Yeah."

She paused a little, then elaborated, gazing back up at the ceiling.

"I guess I just miss my family."

It was a quiet admission, and not one which Sofia seemed entirely comfortable with giving, but there was a wistful, suffering look on her face that told Sara it was the truth. Sara held her hand tighter, wishing she could help and yet not knowing how. She had known for months that all her friends were suffering from the absence of their families – not least of all Nick and Catherine, who took it deeply to heart – but the group seemed to dance around ever mentioning it, as if sensing that to express their own feelings would only aggravate similar pain in the others – pain which they were all trying to ignore.

It had only been a matter of time before it all bubbled to the surface, and she could not blame Sofia for feeling what she did.

"It's okay to miss your family," Sara said. "I know the others feel the same."

"Don't you?" Sofia queried, catching the omission.

Sara swallowed, and feeling suddenly in the spotlight, and struggled to stifle her feelings. She fought hard not to let on, to not talk about the history she had no strength to talk about, lest she should disintegrate altogether.

"My family's here," she answered. "You guys are my family."

A part of Sofia looked touched, and yet greater than that was the sympathy and deep concern which suddenly swamped her features, sensing something was there.

Sara gave a small shake of the head, hoping strongly that she wouldn't ask.

"Look, Sofia, I know you want to ask, and I have no objection to you knowing, but if you're going to, I'd rather you ask Gil. It's not something I like to talk about."

"All right," Sofia said.

Her reply was so firm and emphatic that Sara knew she sensed something there, and had an inkling of what lay beneath. Her blue eyes were focused on her with a searching concern, and it even prompted her to sit up, pushing back the blanket and shifting over to face her.

"You know that we consider you family too," Sofia said, holding both her hands and looking firmly into her eyes – so firmly that Sara felt Sofia could see through to her soul. "You always have us, and whatever happens out here, we'll face it together."

Her eyes dipped to Sara's abdomen, and Sara took a breath, nodding. She did not even feel ready to think about the prospect of childbirth yet – or all that lay beyond – right now she could only deal with one day at a time.

"We'll be fine," she said. "Just take it easy, okay?"

As she walked away and left Sofia to dress she found herself wondering how it had all happened. She had never intended to even hint at her past – in eight months of living with her friends it had never come up, and yet she also considered in hindsight that it had been bound to happen sometime. It was only a matter of time before one of them asked about her family, and why she neglected to ever mention them. Yet the strangest thing of all was how the admission seemed to inadvertently help Sofia. Sara had not intended to even talk about it, let alone have it help her, but oddly enough it seemed to distract Sofia from her own world of troubles, almost as if she was so concerned about Sara that all her old instincts kicked into gear, and she stepped up to staunchly protect her.

It was touching in its own way – she knew that Sofia considered herself primarily responsible for the safety of the team, as the only one among them who was formally trained by PD – and after disappearing for a brief hot shower upstairs she descended to the kitchen with a renewed strength in her eyes, as if she had shaken off all traces of the night before. She hugged and kissed Nick, and shared a quick peck on the lips with Catherine, and after that focused her energies on leading the group in an annoying surge of protection against Sara. She queried Sara about what she'd eaten in the last few hours – and, swiftly arousing the same protective instincts in both Nick and Warrick – led them to question the fact that she'd dashed out there the night before in the first place.

"You're kidding, right?" Sara said, when Nick voiced his concern.

"I'm not saying you shouldn't have been out there," he said, tone controlled and gentle, "only that if it happens again – if we ever face anything like that – you let us handle it, okay? It's not just you we need to think about here."

His eyes dipped to her abdomen, and wishing she could forcibly remove them, Sara shook her head, staring him down.

"I'm aware I'm pregnant," she said firmly. "Thank you."

"Well good," Nick said. "Because if you don't look after yourself, we're going to start doing it for you, okay? We care about you far too much to just sit back and let anything happen."

She knew he was trying to be kind, and it was this fact alone which stopped her from retorting, and putting him firmly in his place. But his eyes were kind, and his hand on her arm gentle, and instead she found herself nodding, and forced a smile.

But the smile was short-lived. After being on her feet for over twenty-four hours she felt tired, and as she stood there she felt her muscles respond, longing for rest. She was fatigued, and felt a headache coming on.

"You okay?" Warrick asked, spotting it. "You know if you want to get some rest, that's okay. We'll hold the fort."

"I'm fine," she insisted.

She put a hand on his arm to thank him and wandered off, drifting into the living room to clear the mess from the night. Blankets and pillows were strewn everywhere, and she considered that now was as good a time as any to start cleaning them up.

It was completely unintentional that she overhead their next conversation, traded in soft whispers in the kitchen around the corner.

"Man, she looks beat," Warrick said.

"What do you expect?" Catherine asked. "She's been up all night taking care of us."

"I don't know we should have done that to her, you know?" Nick said. "Us all coming in, lobbing all that onto her shoulders, it can't be helping things."

"We weren't in much of a state to do much else," Sofia said, realistically.

"I know. I just wish it hadn't happened."

"You couldn't have kept her away if you'd tried," Grissom said. "When you yelled for help and came running down she was gone – she would have wrestled your stalker to the ground single-handedly if she'd had to."

"Thank God it wasn't necessary," Catherine said.

"Well she saved all our lives in any case," Warrick said. "We owe her for that. Let's not repay her by throwing four lots of PTSD onto her shoulders. She needs to look after herself as well."

"You can't stop her caring," Grissom said. "She loves you all, and if she senses you need help, she'll give it."

"We care for her too. But she's in a fragile state – I don't think she even realises how fragile."

"She's only physically fragile," Catherine said. "Mentally, she's healthy."

"Well, either way," Nick said. "I'm with Warrick – let's just minimise the burden on her, okay? We don't want to make things worse for the baby."

"The best thing we can do right now is replenish supplies. Get a square meal into her. But getting hold of that's not going to be easy, and it's probably not a conversation for today."

"No, it's not," Grissom ruled. "For now, I just want everyone to rest. Take some time out, put your feet up, let yourselves heal a little. And remember I'm here if you need to talk. We can talk strategy in the morning."

"Agreed," Warrick said.

Sara was not surprised that they kept the conversation from her – for obvious reasons – and it seemed diplomatic to pretend she hadn't heard it. When Grissom came in a few seconds later to help her clean up, she showed no sign of having heard it, and the others volunteered nothing. Nevertheless it made for a depressing afternoon, the mood exhausted and sombre, and despite the day of rest things did little to pick up.

Warrick and Catherine seemed to be mutually tired and down, and retreated for a private hour upstairs a short while later, closing a bedroom door behind them. Sara understood their desire to be alone, and resolved to give them the space they needed to cuddle and replenish their sanity. Nick and Sofia were similarly affected, and seemed to just want to be near each other, and to that end they remained attached to each other for most of the afternoon. Sofia sat in his lap on the couch, and Nick obligingly held her, seeming relieved to merely have her back in his arms in one piece.

Grissom and Sara shared a game with them for a while, but when Sara began yawning and rubbing her eyes Grissom ruled it was time out, and laid a hand on her back to escort her upstairs, insisting she take a nap.

"You need rest," he said, sitting her on the edge of the mattress while he straightened the pillow. "You've been up far too long, you need a break."

"We can't leave the others," Sara said. "They're in a state …"

"I'll take care of them. You need sleep."

Sara did not argue. Already she felt herself sinking into the mattress, and doubted she could even stand up again, even if she chose to. Catherine had warned her that fatigue was a symptom of pregnancy, and Sara had suffered from it chronically since falling pregnant. Standing guard throughout the night fretting over her friends had not helped things.

"Hmmm," she said.

"In," Grissom urged.

He manoeuvred her legs up onto the bed, and brought the blankets back over her, tucking her in snug and warm.

Sara felt her eyes close. She felt ready for sleep, though her headache still bothered her, and there was a slight discomfort in her stomach.

"You coming?" she murmured.

"In a little while," he said. "I'll just make sure the others are okay."

His lips brushed her forehead, and Sara already felt herself drifting.

"I'll be in soon," he whispered.

She heard a door close, footsteps retreat quietly down the hallway, and then silence fell.

Only hours later, she fell sick.

This chapter took so long to write, it was unbelievable. I don't know why I had such a mega writing block with it. But moving on now ... a little more action on the way!

Hope you're still with me and would love feedback ... Anna. :)