Author's Note: I am finally on my Holiday Break so from now to the first week of January, it is a time of updating. I have motivation to write more than ever because I have a project to get started. I came up with it on a whim and now I have thirty planned stories to get up on here by the end of 2010.

I think I can do it, especially now that I'm not sick and/or injured at the moment. My only annoyance right now is that FFN's email system is on the fritz (again) and I have to get my reviews and alerts the old fashioned way. They better fix it soon.

Anyway, back to the story. Now that Grissom knows what's going on, I can get the meaty underbelly of the plot. There will be a GSR confrontation later on and definitely some lovemaking. I can't write a fic without someone getting it on. I just can't. Believe me, I tried. But for now, let's get back to the angst.

Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"

"Thank you for everything."

"Madeline, are you sure you don't need a place to stay? It's no trouble if you do."

Sara smiled at Margaret and replied, "No, you guys have done enough. I…I'll be okay."

As the RV pulled away, she looked up at San Francisco General. Her brother was in there somewhere. She had gotten a letter from him shortly after she got to Vegas, offering updates and the opportunity for a visit.

"It's just been too long, Sarabellum and I want to know who you are now. I just need to know if you managed to make it past our fucked up childhood and that you're happy."

Well, she had achieved half of that. She was a Harvard graduate and a damned good CSI. Still, she wasn't happy. She hadn't been happy since the night before leaving for Vegas. Grissom's call had been like a jump on a dead car battery. She had become invigorated and excited, accepting his invitation immediately. She thought that she would be able to help.

Then after she helped, she thought that she'd be able to stay around as his partner, his lover…

It amazed her how naive she had been and apparently still was.

It had been almost 3 days. He had to know she was gone by now and for some reason, her mind kept giving her images of him frantic to find her, of him feeling guilty, him even crying because he had driven her away.

The odds of that was less than nil but the images were still there, tugging at her heart and conscience. What if it was like that? Should she call him? Go back to Vegas?

No. No, if (and if was a big if) he was feeling that way, then he would have to chase her for once. Really chase her. No plants, no bullshit. If he wanted her, he'd have to fight for her.

Resolved, she entered the hospital, determined to find Phil.

Hopefully, he'd be willing to let her stay with him.

//////////////

6 May 2003: I don't know what's wrong with me. I heard about Grissom and Lady Heather and ever since, I've felt like a ghost. Always cold, always on the outside. It's bad enough that he tells me that he "doesn't know what to do about this" but then, less than 2 weeks later, he fucks a dominatrix?

Story of my life: Every time there's a possibility of anything good happening, it gets squashed. I know it's my own fault. I shouldn't have been so blunt. I should have waited until the smoke cleared before asking him out. Hell, I didn't even ask him out! I just wanted to share a meal with him…

God, it sucks when I can't even lie in my journal. I wanted a date and all I got was bent over. Well, fine. If he wants to get the shit hit out of him to get off, then that's his prerogative. Hope the Lady knows what she's getting into…

Nick closed the 2nd to last journal, feeling like a voyeur. He knew everything that had happened to her and the conclusion he had came to earlier proved to be right. It wasn't all Grissom's fault. A girl who witnessed her father's death and her mom being hauled off had to end up miserable. A shudder of revulsion went through him as he remembered the accounts from her time in the system.

How had she survived? By all counts of logic, she should be dead…she could be dead.

It had been 72 hours and still no word from her. She hadn't been spotted by any the cops looking for her, suggesting stealth or possible abduction. Nick fervently hoped that it was the first one.

"You son a bitch!"

"Greg, no!"

Hurrying out into the hall, he saw Greg being held back by Catherine and Brass from pummeling Grissom. The man looked defeated and deflated but his eyes were steely with determination.

"Greg, I know that you're feeling…"

"No! No, you obviously don't know a damned thing about feeling! How else could you hurt her like that?! Huh?! How the fuck are you going to live with yourself if something's happened to her?! What if she's dead?!" he demanded tearfully, voicing everyone's worst fear.

Grissom flinched at the very idea and Nick used that to intervene on his behalf.

"Greggo, it isn't all his fault. Okay, yeah, a big part of it is his fault and he better be willing to fix it…"

"I am.", Grissom said bluntly.

"…Good…but what's going on with her goes way beyond Grissom. Her journals…it's not all his fault and beating the hell out of him won't bring her back. Only we can.", he told the young man firmly, trying to get through to him.

It worked.

"All right. All right, fine. I'll do it for her.", Greg said quietly before heading back to his lab, hoping to find a lead in her possessions.

"Someone fill me in.", Grissom ordered as he got a mug of coffee.

It would be the first of many.

All of them knew that Grissom was fully prepared to do anything to get her back.

It made them even more determined.