AN: A bit more crime scene investigating in this one. I feel like things are moving a little slowly, but I promise the pace will pick up in the next few chapters – I just didn't want to rush through Sara's first week back and everyone learning to interact again.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything relating to CSI

Chapter 23

"Need a hand?"

Grissom looks up at the voice, finding Catherine in the doorway.

"Don't you have a case of your own you should be working on?" he asks, returning his attention to the task in front of him.

"Our clerk turned up after about forty-five minutes," she explains, coming into the room. "Apparently, he cut up his hand on some broken bottles and forgot to lock up the store before taking himself to the hospital. Unfortunately for him, two guys took the opportunity to clean out the cash register while he was gone, but the surveillance system was good, for once, and I got hits on prints that match the faces caught on camera, so arrest warrants are out. Both suspects are dealers at MGM Grand, no priors, so I'm thinking crime of opportunity."

"Then by all means." He focuses on the two bullets he's comparing for a moment, before a thought occurs to him and he straightens up again, frowning at Catherine. "Where's Sara?"

"Warrick had to send Nick home – hopefully it's just something he ate but it might be a stomach bug. Sara went over to The Landing Strip to give him a hand with his scene, since ours wasn't that complicated after the clerk showed up and explained the blood," she replies, focusing on the case file he left next to the microscope. "You want me to check on the fibers you sent for analysis?"

"You do realize I was keeping them apart for a reason, right?" he says drily, trying to keep his annoyance in check.

She gives him a slightly sheepish look. "I didn't, sorry. But they're both adults, they're going to have to work together eventually. Might as well get it over with. And I let her decide if she wanted to keep working the robbery or go over there, so maybe she was thinking the same thing."

It wouldn't surprise him, Sara's not one for avoiding confrontation. He finds his phone and sends a quick text – Everything OK? – before returning to the work at hand. If she's busy at the scene, he knows he won't hear anything for a while.

By the time he gets a reply, they've solved the case – which turns out not to be a triple murder in the end, but a double murder/suicide – and Catherine and Greg have left to process a car crash with suspicious circumstances outside the city. It's brief – Fine, stop worrying! On our way back now – and he smiles as he boxes up the rest of the evidence and drops everything at the evidence locker.

He's in the break room with coffee and a new assignment slip when they return, laughing about something as they enter the room. He still raises his eyebrows at Sara, checking in, but she just rolls her eyes in response.

"Coffee fresh?" Warrick asks, going for the pot.

"Yeah," he confirms. "How was the, uh… Landing Strip?"

"Killer can't be the brightest bulb in the toolbox," Sara replies brightly. "Murder weapon left at the scene, clear finger and shoe prints in blood, and epithelials under the vic's fingernails. Should be a slam dunk when we have something to compare it to even if we don't get any hits from the system." Grissom looks at her for a long moment. "What?"

"Aren't you mixing your metaphors there?" he asks amusedly, and she shrugs.

"More fun that way."

Warrick puts down a mug in front of her and she gives him a grateful smile.

"So, we going back out, boss?" he asks, leaning against the table and nodding at the assignment slip in Grissom's hand.

"Trick roll a few blocks from the Strip," he replies. "I was going to handle it myself since everyone else was out, but I wouldn't say no to some company."

"Well, I've got evidence to log," Warrick says. "You two have fun."

Sara throws a balled-up napkin after him as he leaves, but he just laughs and disappears down the corridor with a wave.

"Can I at least finish my coffee?" she then asks, turning back to Grissom with a hopeful look. "It's been a while since I worked three scenes in one shift, I'm going to need the caffeine."

He frowns. "I can handle this one on my own if you want to help Warrick out here instead," he offers. It's not like trick rolls are complicated.

"Nah, it'll be faster if there's two of us, hopefully we'll both get out of here on time."

He's reminded of why he's been avoiding pairing Sara with himself in the car. She reaches for the radio, raising her eyebrows at him, and when he nods, she turns it on. Before they reach the first traffic light, she's humming along to a song he doesn't recognize, tapping out the rhythm with her fingers against her leg, and he finds himself looking at her more than the road ahead.

At the scene, however, they work together easily, like they always have, processing the dingy motel room quickly and efficiently.

"I don't even know if there's any point in bagging these," Sara notes, a tone of despair in her voice, as she uses the ALS on the sheets to mark stains for analysis. "There's no way these were washed between guests, our vic checked in yesterday. They're lit up like a Christmas tree."

"It should be possible to separate the newer stains from the older ones," he reasons. "But thank you for that reminder of why I hate staying in hotels."

She laughs as she takes the sheets off the bed and puts them in an evidence bag.

"I would say bring an ALS on vacation, but to be honest, I don't know if knowing is better or worse. At least if you don't test anything, you can pretend the room's clean."

"Speaking from experience?"

"Unfortunately, yes. There have been a few hotels where I've seriously considered sleeping in the bathtub."

He chuckles at the image her words produce. "Just considered?"

"Turns out bathtubs are not very comfortable," she says with a smirk. "Only time I've actually slept in one I was basically passed out, so it doesn't count. I would have slept anywhere even remotely horizontal."

"I sense a story there…"

"Not really. Frat party, too much alcohol. Pretty standard college stuff."

Part of him wants to prod, because he wants to know all he can about her, hear every little experience and story that made her into the person she is today.

But now's not the time, not at a crime scene at a seedy motel, with two cops and a pissed off civil servant from Chicago out in the hall, trying to figure out how to tell his wife he got robbed by a hooker during a business trip.

Sara has to admit, by the end of her Friday shift, that getting back into working nights is harder than she thought it would be.

"Hey there, I wouldn't sleep on that if I were you, you never know what's been on there."

She lifts her head from the table in the break room to glare at Nick. "Thanks."

"Rough night?" he asks, grabbing a mug and pouring himself some coffee.

"Not really, I think it's just the whole going from day to night thing that's catching up to me," she replies, suppressing a yawn.

"Yeah, I don't envy you."

"Hey, should you really be working today?" she asks.

"It was just something I ate," he assures her. "So, you don't have to worry about catching anything from me. Want some?"

He holds up the coffee pot, but she shakes her head even though it's tempting.

"I might need it for the drive, but then I won't be able to sleep, so I'll just suck it up."

"Yeah, it's a fine line," he agrees, sitting down next to her.

"Hey, where's the weekend feeling, people?" Greg exclaims as he comes into the room ahead of Warrick.

Sara glares at him. "How are you so… preppy?"

"Copious amounts of caffeine, my dear," he replies, pouring himself another mug before sitting down. "If memory serves, you used to be a champion coffee drinker right alongside me. Lost your touch?"

"Shut up," she just grumbles.

"I'll hold him if you want to knock that grin off his face," Warrick offers, and she sends him a grateful smile.

"I might get back to you on that."

"Hey, now, violence is never the answer," Greg objects.

"I think that depends on the question," Catherine says, following Grissom into the room. "And who's asking it."

"I don't like it when you guys gang up on me." Greg pouts. "Make them stop, boss."

Grissom looks up from the case files on the table in front of him. "Sorry, Greg, you're on your own. OK, status report for the end of the week?"

They take turns going through the current standing of their cases. Greg does most of the talking for their assault case, and Sara just pipes in with a few observations when she finds it necessary.

Soon enough, the work talk is done and the sound level increases when everyone starts discussing weekend plans as they file out of the room. Sara takes her time, too tired to participate in the conversation.

She doesn't realize Grissom is still in the room until a hand wraps gently around her elbow. "You OK?" he asks when she turns to look at him.

"Fine," she assures him, even mustering up a smile. "Just a long week on a new schedule. A few hours of sleep will do wonders."

"What's the plan for today?" he continues. "Is Lindsey watching Shelby?"

"Not today, no," she replies. "Catherine offered to take first shift, then she'll get some sleep in the afternoon."

"Or I could take her," he suggests with a shrug.

"You don't mind?"

"Of course I don't mind!"

Sara shakes her head a little to clear it. "Not the watching her part, just… you're not tired?"

"I'm used to the schedule," he says with a smile. "I can sleep later this afternoon, it's not a problem."

"In that case, yes, please."

"Why don't I pick up some breakfast on the way and then Shelby and I will go back to my place when we've eaten?" Grissom suggests. "I know there's plenty of good food in San Francisco, but I can't imagine you've been able to find better pancakes than Frank's."

The sound she lets out is probably borderline pornographic. "I think I've actually repressed how good they are," she admits. "Just so I wouldn't be disappointed when nothing measured up."

"Then I think it's high time for a reminder. Pancakes, scrambled eggs, French toast. And I'll make sure they put the bacon in a separate container."

"You're too good to me."

She can see the color creep up his neck before he turns his back on her to gather up the case files. "Get out of here before you fall asleep standing up. I'll be over soon with food."

Of course, he manages to hit the breakfast rush at Frank's, so it's almost eight by the time he finally arrives.

"I didn't know Frank's delivered," Catherine says with a smirk when she opens the door for him. "Delivery boy seems a little old, though. I like me some eye candy when I order takeout."

"Be nice or you won't get any food."

"Yeah, yeah. Come on in." She steps aside. "Shelby's still asleep and I think Sara might have dozed off on the couch, but I bet just the smell of that will wake her up."

He follows her into the kitchen, setting the bags of food on the counter while she gets plates and cutlery. When he glances into the living room, he sees that Catherine was right – Sara's curled up on the couch, sound asleep. So far, the enticing smell hasn't woken her.

"Coffee?" he asks, turning to Catherine.

"None for me, but feel free to make yourself some," she replies. "If you're taking Shelby, I'm going to hit the sack too, so I'll stick with something decaf."

He gets some coffee going while she gets the food set up, and by the time he's pouring himself a mug, there's movement on the couch. When he looks over, Sara's already up, stretching her arms over her head, the movement making her t-shirt ride up enough to expose an inch or so of skin, and he quickly averts his eyes.

"Ooh, food," she says, coming over to see what's on offer.

"I wasn't sure what Shelby might like," he admits. "So I got a little of everything, basically."

"You can never go wrong with pancakes."