He should have known better.

The miles of black, shiny highway slipped by, and only a fragment of his brain was focusing on the driving. His large hands curled tightly around the slim steering wheel, and his narrowed eyes gazed unseeingly out at the dawn shadows rising along the highway.

Every so often, he glanced toward Sara, sleeping against the door of the SUV, grateful that her rest seemed to be undisturbed. He couldn't believe the events that had transpired just hours before. Sure, they got the guilty party, and the case was closed, but at what cost? He wasn't sure he would be able to know that complete answer for a while.

His mind drifted back even further to the death of their new CSI, Holly. He remembered the angst that Warrick Brown had gone through after leaving her alone at a crime scene, only to lose her life because the perpetrator returned to the scene and no one had her back.

He should have known better.

They were in a mental hospital, of all places, and he had left her alone, in an enclosed space, with one way in, and the same one way out. She was distracted, of course, trying to find clues. She wouldn't have heard Adam Trent coming, until it was too late to escape. His mind played over and over the way it had to have gone down, Sara, focused, working hard, unaware of the troubled man creeping into the station, intent to do harm.

He should have known better.

Leaving her alone in a place like a mental hospital, while knowing about her family history, and all she had been through with her parents? Why had he even brought her anyway, knowing the trauma that this type of place would dredge up. He should have caught the first clue that she was uncomfortable when she needed his help swabbing that difficult patient. Surely he could have picked up on something in her voice, her body language, her face, to have recognized she was treading water over her head. he was a CSI supervisor. He was supposed to know things.

But no.

He was only thinking about the case, and happy to have her working at his side. The relationship they were building was worth everything to him, even if he was too much of a lump to accept her advances before. He was intrigued by the mental status of these patients, invested in understanding them, much as one would study wildlife. His only focus had been to find the clues and solve the case.

The rationalization of the dangers they were working with had not even been considered in his mind.

When he had returned to the station, and the door was locked, his immediate thought was confusion, and the idea that perhaps Sara had locked it so no one else could get in while he was gone.

But the moment his eyes fell on the scene before him, his heart sank. This was a different Sara, clutched in the strong arms of an enraged Adam Trent, her hands shaking, hair disheveled, and something terrifyingly childlike in her eyes.

The expression on her face rattled him to the core. She wasn't relieved to see him. There was no begging him to save her, no pleading with the enraged man. There was only freezing, terrified, her focus on the pottery shard pressed against her carotid artery. She was a terrified child, once again, and he had left her there.

He couldn't tear his eyes off her, as he pleaded with the man to open the door. It was as if his muscles were frozen, unable to look away from the terrible tragedy about to happen. He wasn't sure what would be worse, if Adam assaulted her, right there in front of them, or if he tried to kill her.

No, trying to kill her would have been worse.

Either way, Grissom would never forgive himself. He couldn't even panic as he watched the terror and flashbacks crumple her face. He couldn't find his commanding voice, shouting orders at the man with the keys. He could only quietly, desperately plead for that door between her and safety to be opened.

They had been doing so much better, too. Their relationship was moving along, they were somewhat beginning to understand each other's quirks, and he saw her for who she really was, a CSI that understood the horrors she saw on a daily basis, and was trying to move past them.

He hoped today wouldn't unravel every step forward that they had made.

He wasn't as much concerned over whether she would hate him for leaving her alone. He was more concerned that whatever flashbacks were hurtling through her mind as she wildly nodded in agreement with whatever Adam was snarling in her ear would derail any progress she had made to get herself together.

The arrival of Nurse McKay at the same moment that the right key was found to unlock the door gave enough of a distraction to allow Sara to run to safety. Looking back, he berated himself for just standing there. Adam, having slashed his own throat, was bleeding on the floor, and Sara was still running down the hallway. He remembered desperately wanting to just run after her, gather her in his arms and hold her as tightly as he could.

But he did know better.

This was work. She was a coworker, and they were still trying to hide their relationship from everyone else. Blast relationships and work etiquette. He could only stand there and watch as the medical team worked to stabilize Adam, and Sara at the other end of the hall tried to stabilize her own emotions. All he could think about what if he had been too late.

He parked the car in his driveway, and turned to watch her for a moment. Still breathing, still alive. He rested a warm hand on her knee, and she shifted slightly, her brow furrowing at something in her dream world.

"Sara?" he called softly, hoping to wake her without startling her.

She started violently with a small squeak of fear, and he threw out an arm to keep her from slamming into the dashboard. "Hey, hey, honey, wait!" he called softly. "It's just you and me. See, look around, just you and me."

For a moment, she blinked unseeingly ahead of her, gradually becoming alert and noticing their surroundings.

"You're house?" she finally asked flatly.

He glanced from her to his front door. "If that's okay."

"Mm, yeah," she mumbled, opening her door and swinging her legs out. She sat there for a moment, rubbing her face, as he got out and came around to her side of the car.

"Come on," he directed kindly as he opened the door, holding out his hand. "Let's get you inside."

She took his offered hand to help her climb out of the car, then meandered toward the front door, standing to the side while he fished his keys out of his pocket and let them both in. He flipped a light switch, illuminating a few of the lamps around the house. She immediately turned and was wrapped around him, shoving his back into the closed door, her face burrowed in his chest, and he dropped his keys as his arms fell easily around her shoulders, one hand gently cupping her neck.

"I'm sorry," he murmured against her hair. "I am so sorry, darling."

She nodded against him, but remained tightly pressed against his chest. He ran a hand down her hair, comfortingly, feeling both of their hearts beating the same intense, fast pace. They had both been scared, for different reasons.

"It was Holly all over again," he finally said softly, eyes focused unseeingly on a spot in the distance. "I should never have left you like that, in such a place. I - I didn't think about the danger, and I should have had your back."

"You didn't know Adam was prowling around," she murmured, voice muffled against his shirt.

His eyebrows quirked up in agreement, but he couldn't just let this go. "I should have been thinking outside the box, planning for contingencies. It should have crossed my mind."

"Why didn't it?" she asked, and her voice was not accusing, although her choice of words was.

He thought for a moment, tilting his face to rest his forehead on the crown of her head, swaying slightly from side to side to try to slow her heartbeat against his chest.

"I got too comfortable." There, he finally admitted it. "I - got too comfortable with your abilities and how well I know you, and I forgot that you - you -" His voice trailed off and he squeezed her tighter. "Good grief, Sara, please don't misunderstand, I beg of you. You're still a woman. I know you can defend yourself, you always have been good at that. But this place is the worst of the worst, and I didn't think about what that could mean for your safety. Plus, with your history and all..." his voice trailed off. "I forgot what a place like that would mean to you. I didn't think of what you were going through, and I just callously dragged you through all that. Sara, the memories, I can't even imagine."

She hadn't said anything, just leaned there against him, his arms supporting them both. Now, as he fell silent, she said softly, "I was scared."

"I know," he whispered, wincing above her. "I know."

"I really wanted to put all that past behind me, but it's like when someone tells you not to look, then all you can do is look. I wanted to be brave and fearless, and prove that my past couldn't hurt me anymore. Guess I was wrong."

His hands slipped to her shoulders, and he pushed her back gently, so he could see her face. "Sara, look at me."

Her unfocused gaze frowned down at the floor, brow furrowed, and his heart ached. He leaned down and kissed her furrowed brow and lifted her chin with his pointer finger. "Darling, look at me."

Her eyes finally met his, a juxtaposition of emotions. His gaze was intense, serious, and sympathetic, kind, and gentle. Her face was a mixture of anger, brokenness, and frustration. He brushed his thumb across her cheek.

"You aren't wrong, Sara. Give it time. You are brave to try to overcome the terrible things you have been through, and you have been doing a great job at it. Today just was a good reminder that bad things can still happen, even when you are trying your best. Don't let it discourage you. You did great today."

"You're just saying that to make me feel better," she murmured, frowning at him. He raised his eyebrows.

"Is it working?"

She worried at her lower lip with her teeth for a moment. "Kinda. Could you say it again?"

He smiled and pulled her close into a strong hug. "You did great today."

"Thanks." She tightened her grip around his strong waist with her slim arms. "You going to be there if I have nightmares?"

"Of course."

"Okay. Cause I can feel they are going to be there when I close my eyes."

"Well," Grissom replied softly. "I'll be there too. I've got your back."