A/N: We so hope you like this one! Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are taken from episode 412, "Butterflied."

January 2004

"We need to talk."

Grissom looked up from his paperwork to see Catherine walking into his office with a look on her face that told him this conversation would not be pretty. He took off his glasses and set them on top of the file in front of him.

"Catherine. How nice to see you."

"Cut the crap." She closed his door and sat down across from him. "What did you do to Sara?"

"Sara?"

"I haven't seen you two avoid each other like this in years! I want to know what you did, and what you're going to do to fix it." She narrowed her eyes. "I will not have her leaving this lab, Gil. She's an excellent CSI, and a vital part of this team. We need her here, and you know that as well as I do."

Grissom sighed and ran his hands over his face. It was true that he had been avoiding Sara since Christmas, assigning them different cases and generally staying out of her way. He had been so busy avoiding her that he hadn't realized that she was going out of her way to avoid him.

"So, you did do something," Catherine said, watching the emotions play across his face with her sharp eyes.

"Not exactly …" He paused, searching for words. "You know how Sara can get … her emotions run so close to the surface …"

"The last time you told me that the problem was Sara getting emotional, she threatened to quit," Catherine said bluntly.

"She won't quit."

"Are you sure about that?"

No. "Yes."

Catherine settled back in her chair. "So, what happened?"

The ringing of the phone on Grissom's desk saved him from answering her question. He picked it up with a look of relief. Catherine rolled her eyes.

"Grissom."

"Hi, Grissom, it's Brass."

"Hello," Grissom replied.

"I've got a homicide for you," he said. "I've got to tell you, it looks complex. Bring some back up."

"I'll be there," Grissom said. He put down the phone and looked at Catherine. "Who's free right now for a homicide?"

Catherine looked more than a little annoyed by the interruption. "Me, Warrick and Sara, as far as I know."

"Good. Then, you, Warrick and Sara are coming along."

Catherine raised an eyebrow. "Sara, too?"

Grissom sighed, realizing she did not consider their conversation to be over. "Yes. Sara, too."

"I'll let them know."

January 2016

Sara walks into Grissom's home office, where he is working diligently on an article he has been putting off for months. She smiles and walks up behind him, putting her arms around his shoulders. He smiles and leans back into her embrace.

"Hi," he says quietly.

"Bye," she replies.

His eyes shoot to the clock. "It's time for you to leave already?"

"Mm-hm." She kisses his cheek. "I'll see you in the morning – and, you had better not be in the same spot, wearing the same clothes."

He chuckles. "Of course not. I have to take the kids to school before you get home."

Sara rolls her eyes and straightens up. He turns to face her.

"Have you told anyone on the team about the baby?"

She shakes her head. "We still have a month before we're out of the first trimester."

He nods, but looks concerned. "I'd rather they know. They'd take it easier on you."

"Gil, I'm pregnant, not an invalid."

"I know. I just …"

"Worry," she supplies.

He smiles. "Yes."

Sara opens her mouth to reply, but is stopped by a cramp across her abdomen. An odd look crosses her face.

"What?" Grissom asks.

She shakes her head. "Nothing. Just a little cramping. Baby must be on the move."

"I don't think she's big enough for that yet."

"Well, on the expansion, then. Remember how I was with Anna?"

Grissom smiles. "Yes. If you say you're fine, I'll believe you."

"Thank goodness. I'm not in the mood for all the hovering again." She looks at her watch. "I really need to get going."

"Okay. Be careful."

"I will." She leans down to kiss him. "I love you."

"Love you, too."

January 2004

"What's going on with you and Grissom?"

Sara turned to stare at Catherine in shock. "What?"

"You've been avoiding each other," she said, never taking her eyes off the road. "Did he do something to you?"

Yes. Our relationship is so screwed up that he won't even go out for breakfast with me anymore. "No. We're fine."

This time, Catherine chanced glancing away from the road to look at Sara. "No, you're not. You guys have been getting along great, and then, all of a sudden, nothing."

Sara sighed. "I appreciate your concern, but, Cat, I really don't want to get into it."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

"You're not going to quit on us, are you?"

"No."

She said it with such conviction that Catherine was convinced. She let the subject drop, for which Sara was grateful.

I won't let him drive me out this time. This is my home now. I won't leave because he's acting like a total ass.

Grissom and Warrick were waiting for them at the crime scene when they arrived. The victim was a young woman who had been killed, according to Brass, in her bathroom.

"I'm going to do a walk-through," Grissom said in greeting as Sara and Catherine joined him and

Warrick outside the house. "I'll be right back."

He disappeared into the house. Catherine looked at Warrick.

"How long have you guys been here?"

"About five minutes."

She nodded. "Okay. As long as he didn't wait half an hour for us to get here so he could tell us that, I feel better."

Warrick grinned. "Anxious to get to work?"

Catherine returned his smile. "Always."

January 2016

Sara shifts in her seat as another cramp seizes her abdomen. She sighs and rubs at the spot. Remembering her doctor's calm assurances about her body expanding to accommodate the baby when she was pregnant with Anna, she forces herself not to panic.

"Pregnancy is painful," the doctor told her with a smile. "Get used to it early, because it's going to be that way the whole time."

She smiles wryly. She managed to forget this part of the pain after Anna's birth.

"Hey," Nick says. "Doc Robbins just called. Our body is ready if you'd like to join me for the autopsy."

"Sure," Sara says, getting to her feet. "Sounds like fun."

Nick chuckles, and she smiles at him.

At least it'll distract me from these cramps.

January 2004

Grissom made his way through the house slowly, his investigator's eyes taking in as much first-blush detail as possible. He followed the hallway toward the bathroom, noting the complete lack of signs of struggle.

He reached the bathroom, where Debbie Marlin's fully-clothed body was in the shower, folded over in what Grissom remembered as child's pose from his brief stint in yoga. A blood pool had formed around her head and neck. He stepped around to get a better look.

It was like looking at Sara.

He dropped to his knees beside the shower and stared at her face. The resemblance was horrifyingly stunning. Even her shaped eyebrows had a similar arch. A ripple of fear shot through him.

Sara's fine. She's fine. She's outside with Catherine and Warrick. This isn't Sara. It's not; you know it's not.

Even so, he couldn't make himself look away from her. He couldn't make the chills stop running up and down his spine, or the goose bumps fade from his arms.

It that moment, Grissom could finally name his greatest fear.

January 2016

"I found ligature marks on her wrists, and extensive bruising," Doc Robbins says. "A lot of defensive wounds. She definitely didn't want to go down without a fight. My guess is that tying her up was a last resort when the killer couldn't get her to submit."

"What can you tell us about this wound here?" Nick asks, indicating a gash on the victim's forehead.

"Not fatal," he replies.

Doc Robbins continues talking, but Sara can't hear him as pain rips across her abdomen. She gasps and doubles over, nearly falling forward.

"Whoa!" Nick exclaims, catching her before she can fall. "Sara! What's wrong?"

"Sara?" Doc Robbins comes around the table faster than Nick and Sara have ever seen him move.

"Oh, no," she moans. "Oh, no, oh, no … oh!"

Another pain seizes her, and she clings to Nick's arm to stay on her feet.

"Sara," Doc says clearly and loudly, grabbing her arm. "Sara, listen to me. I need you to tell me what's wrong. Where is the pain?"

Keeping one hand on Nick's arm to hold herself up, she grabs the doctor's lab coat with the other.

"Doc …" she moans thickly. "Help me."

"I'm trying, Sara. You've got to tell me where it hurts."

"I'm nine weeks pregnant," she nearly whispers.

"Nick, lay her down," Doc commands. "Now!"

Without arguing, Nick lifts Sara up and lays her on an empty table.

"Call an ambulance, then call Grissom and tell him to meet us at Desert Palm," Robbins commands.

Nick nods and leaves to do his bidding. Sara looks up at Robbins with huge eyes.

"I'm losing my baby, aren't I?"

Watching the blood seep through her clothes, he knows that yes is the only honest answer. "We'll get you to the hospital," he says. "We'll take good care of you."

Tears fill her eyes.

January 2004

After talking to the woman who found Debbie Marlin's body – her best friend – Catherine joined Grissom in the house. He had made it very clear that they were the only two permitted to enter. Catherine found that odd – while she knew that the car (Warrick's job) and the perimeter (Sara's) were important parts of the crime scene, she was stunned that he had not asked for their help in the house. Exactly how many hours is he planning for the two of us to work?

She made her way to the bathroom, where Grissom was crouched down next to the body. Looking at him, she wondered if he had moved since disappearing into the house after giving out assignments.

One look at the victim's face told her that no, he had not.

Debbie Marlin looked exactly like Sara.

Creepy.

Grissom was obviously taking this badly. Catherine had two options: she could acknowledge what they both knew – that this girl could be Sara's twin – or, she could ignore the obvious and remain totally professional. Looking at Grissom, who was clearly just clinging to his self-awareness, she decided that the second option was the best. Someone needed to keep him focused on his job.

She started talking about arterial spray and blood patterns. That captured his attention; he mentally returned to the scene.

Catherine shook her head. They could both deny it all they wanted, but there was clearly something going on between Grissom and Sara. She just wished she knew what it was.

"Hey, guys. Who let you in the house?"

"Oh, funny," Warrick said. He indicated the groceries on the counter. "We were just doing our jobs. We found groceries in the car, and decided to see what made it into the house."

"We're using the date on the milk to estimate a time of death," Sara added.

"Good job," Catherine said. "I have a new mission for you, though."

"Oh, yeah?" Warrick asked. "What's that?"

"We need someone to check out the drain pipes," Catherine said.

Sara and Warrick looked at each other. "Not it!" they exclaimed in unison, both touching their noses simultaneously.

"Okay," Warrick said. "Evens or odds?"

"Odds."

"You're on." He grinned as they both curled their hands into fists. "One, two, three, shoot!"

Sara's hand shot out with two fingers raised; Warrick held up four.

"Ha!" he exclaimed. "Have fun under the house!"

Sara made a face. "You're going next time."

"Only if you win next time."

"Whatever. I've got to go change."

His laughter followed her out of the house.

Grissom had to admit that he was relieved when he heard that Sara had gone under the house to collect samples from the pipes. He felt no guilt whatsoever about sending her back to the lab to begin processing.

He wanted her as far away from Debbie Marlin's body as possible. As strange as it was for him to see Sara's double's dead body, he knew it would be impossibly hard for her.

January 2016

A ringing phone in the middle of the night is not something he is accustomed to hearing anymore. If his sleep is interrupted by a phone call, it is for Sara, not him.

So, when the ringing phone pulls Grissom from a dreamless sleep, he ignores it. It isn't until it has rung four times and Sara has not answered it that he remembers that she is already at work. He fumbles across his nightstand for the ringing, vibrating object.

"Grissom," he mumbles, the past six years of a CSI-free existence fading away in the face of a midnight call.

"Grissom, it's Nick. Are you awake?"

"Yes," Grissom nearly slurs.

"Are you sure about that?"

Grissom takes a deep breath and releases it slowly, opening his eyes as wide as possible. "Yes," he says clearly. "I'm awake."

"Listen," Nick says, "we've got a bit of a problem on our hands."

"What's wrong?" Grissom asks.

"Sara had some cramping during autopsy –"

"Is the baby all right?" Grissom interrupts before Nick can even finish his statement.

"The paramedics are with her now," Nick says, obviously trying to stay calm. "We're taking her to Desert Palm."

"I'll meet you there."

Grissom hangs up without even thanking Nick for calling.

January 2004

Learning that their only suspect had not only been killed, but also, as Doc Robbins put it, fileted, was shocking, to say the least. Even though they had not even had the opportunity to speak with Debbie Marlin's boyfriend, Grissom, Brass and Catherine had all agreed that he was a very likely candidate to be their murderer. The discovery of his dismembered body had sent them back to square one.

While Catherine and Warrick returned to the lab with the body and other evidence, Grissom stayed at the crime scene. He sat in front of Debbie's dresser, examining a butterfly figurine she had placed there. There were a profusion of butterflies throughout the house; she must have loved them. Grissom could certainly relate to that.

He put the figurine down and looked at the photos on the dresser. Most of them showed Debbie by herself. Even though Grissom stared at pictures of Debbie, he only saw Sara. How could he not? Aside from the obvious physical similarities, there was something about her … Her photos showed the same vivacious spirit that Grissom had always admired in Sara. The same spirit that, if he were honest, had attracted him to her during a seminar years before, and had held his interest ever since.

In his moment of introspective honesty, Grissom let himself take it one step further: he was not only attracted to Sara. He could very easily love her.

And, the very idea of doing so was terrifying.

He put down the framed picture and shook his head slightly. He had come to do a job: to find justice for a woman who had been murdered in her own home. It was time to do just that.

When Catherine arrived at the crime scene over eight hours later, Grissom was still working. She stared at him in shock.

"Don't tell me you never went home."

He looked up at her and held her eyes for a moment. "Okay," he said, giving her the exact answer she didn't want.

It took only moments for Catherine to realize that she had no chance of getting Grissom to go home before they had solved the case. Hoping that they would be able to wrap it up within less than a week – she had a feeling that Grissom's current adrenaline would keep him awake for that long – she forced him to eat, then agreed to work with him.

Each case they worked had to be solved for the victim and his or her family. Catherine knew that, and focused on it each time she was handed a new assignment.

But, this case was different. Grissom was obsessed with solving it like she had never seen before. And, she knew exactly what he was doing. He wasn't solving this case for Debbie or her family. He was solving it for Sara.

And, Catherine realized quite quickly that she needed to solve it for Grissom. If she didn't – if they as a team didn't – Grissom could very well break.

"Should we try to run it again?"

Sara sighed. "Why? We've already gone over it with Grissom and come up empty."

"There has to be something," Warrick said.

"Maybe not," Sara said, dropping her head into her hands. "Maybe we've finally found someone who committed the perfect murder."

"Doesn't that usually mean the body is never found?"

She glared at him. "Don't ruin this for me."

Warrick chuckled as Sara's phone began to ring. She picked it up and saw Catherine's name on the display.

"It's Catherine," she said. "Maybe they found something." She opened the phone. "Sidle."

"Hey, Sara, I need a favor," Catherine said. "Grissom and I just found a toe print at the victim's house, and we need to exclude her toes. Would you mind printing her?"

"No problem."

"Thanks, Sara."

Sara closed her phone and looked at Warrick. "They found a toe print. They want me to print the vic to exclude her."

"And …?"

"And … we'll see where it goes from there."

"Hey, Doc," Sara said as she walked into the morgue.

"Hi, Sara," he said with a smile. "What brings you down here?"

"I need to toe print Debbie Marlin," she replied.

The coroner raised his eyebrows. "Grissom wants you to do that?"

"Catherine," she said, puzzled by his expression. "Is … something wrong?"

"No," he said a bit too quickly. "She's over here."

Sara followed Robbins to the appropriate drawer. He started to pull it open then stepped back with a smile.

"Sorry," he said. "I don't need to do your job for you."

"Hey, I almost feel like I'm doing yours when I open these," she said.

He nodded, his smile fading slightly. "I'll just be in my office … if you need anything."

"Thanks," Sara said, wondering what she could possibly need.

Doc Robbins disappeared, and Sara pulled the drawer open. She pulled a stool up to Debbie's feet and immediately began her printing task.

"Sara, you take the perimeter."

"Grissom wants you to do that?"

Why were both men working so hard to keep her from the victim? Had she done something wrong? Was her work slipping?

She glanced up at the woman's face. What do you know about all this?

Debbie did not move, of course, but there was something there …

Sara completed her task, glancing back at Debbie's face periodically. Once she had printed her last toe, she put her supplies down and wheeled her stool to Debbie's head. For the first time, she truly looked at their victim.

It was like looking in a mirror. Debbie could have been her.

Suddenly, everything slid into place. Grissom's reluctance to let her get anywhere near the body. His borderline insane obsession with the case. Not going home for days. Leaning so heavily on Catherine while shutting Sara out.

This wasn't about Debbie. It was about Sara … and, it was about Grissom.

January 2016

"Jake. Jake, wake up."

Jake shakes off sleep in a matter of seconds, leaving Grissom impressed. His ability to wake up rivals even Sara's.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

"Something happened to Sara at work," Grissom replies. "I've got to go to Desert Palm."

"Is she all right?" Jake exclaims, jumping out of bed.

"As far as I know," Grissom says quite honestly. "But, I need to get over there. I don't know when I'll be back, but, until then, you are in charge. Take care of Anna, and get her ready for school. I'll be home in time to take you both there."

"Are you sure?" Jake asks. "We can take the bus."

"I'll be back," Grissom promises. "You have my cell phone number, right?"

"Yes."

"Good. Just call me if you need me."

Jake nods. "We'll be fine."

Grissom smiles faintly. "I know."

"And …"

"Yes?"

"Tell Sara … I really hope she's okay."

Grissom nods. "I'll let her know."

January 2004

"It was him," Grissom said with conviction. "It had to be."

"Well, as far as I can tell, he doesn't have an alibi," Brass said. "So, that makes it possible."

"He's a surgeon," Catherine said. "He'd be able to cleanly slit Debbie's throat and to filet Michael with extreme precision."

"And, he uses the cocktail of hair loss remedies that Greg identified on the hair found in the victim's house," Grissom said. "It looks like Dr. Lurie is our man."

"I don't know if we'll be able to hold him," Brass said. "We don't have the murder weapon or any evidence that he was actually in the bathroom. The hair was found in the spare room."

"And, we don't have motive," Catherine added. "Why did he kill them?"

Grissom looked at them both as though they had lost their minds. "Jealousy," he said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "She was dating Lurie and left him for the younger man."

"The neighbor did say she dated a lot of doctors," Brass said. "Maybe he's got a point."

"Well, without proof, he doesn't have much beyond a theory," Catherine said.

Grissom raised an eyebrow. "Sometimes, a theory is all it takes."

January 2016

Grissom runs through the hospital doors and to the front desk.

"I'm looking for Sara Grissom – Sidle – Sidle-Grissom … I don't know how she checked in."

"Okay, sir," the woman behind the desk says calmly. "Give me just a minute."

Grissom nods and just stops himself from drumming his fingers on the desk while he waits. He settles for shoving his hands into his pockets and beating them against his legs.

"She's still in the ER," she says. "You just go –"

"I know where it is, thanks," Grissom interrupts. "Thank you for your help."

He takes off at a near run for the emergency room.

January 2004

"We've got the suspect coming in for interrogation today," Catherine commented as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

"Oh?" Sara asked, trying to appear unaffected. "Will you be there?"

"Grissom and Brass are doing it." She looked at Sara, wondering what it would have done to Dr. Lurie to see her show up in the interrogation room. Like seeing a ghost …

"Maybe I'll go watch it," she said slowly.

"Yeah," Catherine agreed, "maybe you should."

Going in, Sara knew that their evidence was shaky. She knew that, without a confession, they had no case.

She also knew that if anyone could get a confession from a reluctant suspect, it would be Brass and Grissom. They had a way of making people talk that Sara had always admired.

Ten minutes in, she knew it wouldn't work this time.

Lurie was smart – too smart. He gave nothing away, and acted almost unmoved by Debbie's death. Sara thought he got a bit carried away with the lack of emotion. A colleague, a woman he had dated, had been brutally murdered in her own home, along with one of his promising surgical residents. He had to feel something.

In the end, their lack of evidence was their undoing. Lurie and his attorney rose to go. Grissom shook his head slightly. He couldn't let them leave. He couldn't let Debbie's killer walk out that door without so much as a whisper of guilt.

"It's sad, isn't it, Doc? Guys like us."

Lurie stopped and raised his head, listening to Grissom's quiet voice. On the other side of the glass, Sara gasped. Was Grissom actually comparing himself to a murderer? No … Griss … you're nothing like him …

"A couple of middle-aged men who've allowed their work to consume their lives," Grissom continued. "The only time we ever touch other people is when we're wearing our latex gloves."

That captured Lurie's full attention; he turned to look at Grissom.

"We wake up one day and realize that for fifty years, we haven't really lived at all," Grissom said in the same low voice. "But, then, all of a sudden … we get a second chance. Somebody young and beautiful shows up, somebody … we could care about. She offers us a new life, with her."

Grissom paused to draw a breath. Lurie's eyes were still riveted to him.

"But, we have a big decision to make, right?" Grissom asked. "Because, we have to risk everything we've worked for in order to have her." He looked away, almost as though forgetting that Lurie was listening. "I couldn't do it." His eyes snapped back to the doctor and he nodded slightly. "But you did. You risked it all. And she showed you a wonderful life, didn't she? … But then she took it away and gave it to somebody else. And you were lost. … So, you took her life. … You killed them both … and now you have nothing."

"I'm still here," Lurie said confidently.

"Are you?" Grissom asked in a lost voice.

Lurie and his attorney left the interrogation room. Grissom shook his head. He had failed – in so many ways. He exhaled deeply and dropped his head to his chest.

Sara stood in the observation room and stared at him for a long, heartbreaking minute. She was so torn and conflicted that she had no idea what to do.

Brass moved across the room, reminding her of his presence. She roused herself, realizing that she needed to move.

Sara walked quickly out of the observation room. She wanted to be gone before Grissom and Brass came out of the room and saw her. She didn't want them to know where she had been – what she had heard. She nearly ran out of PD and into her car. The clock illuminated as she turned the car on; it was over an hour after her shift's end.

"Perfect," she muttered.

She drove out of the parking lot and turned toward her apartment building. There was a liquor store on the way. She would stop, she would buy a bottle of vodka, and she would go home and make herself a drink. And another. And another.

For the first time since college, she intended to get drunk all alone.

January 2016

Grissom walks into Sara's room. Nick and Doc Robbins are sitting with her; they both jump up to leave when Grissom enters the room.

Sara looks at him with teary eyes. He meets her eyes and feels all the breath leave his body. He crosses the room as quickly as possible and sits down on her bed, pulling her into his arms.

"Gil," she whispers. "I lost her. I lost our baby. I'm so sorry."

She begins to sob against him. Grissom holds her tightly without speaking.

There are no words to be spoken.