Part One: Nevada - Stay

She looked him in the eyes, unblinking. "I do," she said. "You know, by the time you figure it out it, it really could be too late."

She thinks back on that day and she shakes her head. She's not sure what she was thinking. Perhaps that Grissom would pull her into his arms and take her, right there in the doorway.

Or not.

It wasn't too late; not yet. She hadn't moved on. In truth she didn't know if she ever would, given the opportunity. Instead, she plans a trip. She knows deep down she wants to make him sweat, just a little, but she tells the team she needs a little perspective. A little time away. Given the extent of her injuries from the explosion, no one second guesses her.

She wants to see his face when she tells him; when she puts in for two whole weeks of vacation time. She would be content with just one word – stay. No need for elaboration about the lab or the team.

She gets a surprised look instead. A flicker behind the cool blue pools. Perhaps interest, or concern. Not what she wanted.

The morning that she leaves, she and Nick stand in the parking lot after shift. He is just getting off, bleary eyed and exhausted. She is well-rested and ready. She slides her spare key off the ring and offers it to him. His hand closes around the key, catching her fingers in his grasp. He studies her face and the fingers fighting to escape his hold.

He knows. He knows it's nothing about perspective at all. Well, maybe if the perspective is regarding a certain graveyard shift supervisor.

"I'll stop by every other day," he says. "I'll water the plant and feed Sunshine," he refers to an orange cat she recently took in after another family in her building couldn't afford to keep him. "But I'm not cleaning that litter box," he smiles at her.

"Nicky," she says in a stern voice. She fixes him a glare.

"Okay, Sar. For you."

She smiles at him, then, dotingly.

"I wish you'd stay," he says, low. She strains to hear him over the traffic on the street. "I know he does, too."

"Sunshine?" She smiles coyly now.

"You know who I'm talking about," he peers over his sunglasses at her.

"It's not good enough, Nicky."

He shrugs. "I know. I tried."

"I'd better be going," she says. Her eyes dart toward the exit. She's watching for him. Whether she wants to see him or avoid him, she's not quite sure.

"Sar, be careful," Nick tells her. "Call as often as you can. Collect."

She shakes her head.

"Postcards?"

She smiles. "Deal."

He pulls her toward him, crushing her slim frame to his chest. "I'll miss you," he says.

"Me too," she mumbles into his shoulder. She pulls away as soon as he allows her. She smiles at him one more time before getting in her vehicle. She toots the horn at him as she drives off.

Grissom watches the scene through his office window, quietly marveling at the unlikely friendship between the smooth Texan and the square daughter of hippies from Northern California.

He sits back in his chair and wonders when Nicky had become closer to Sara than he had.

Sara has it all mapped out in her mind. She wants to make a circular pattern, see some of the country that she had, thus far, largely ignored. She decides to start out on Hwy 15 heading up into Utah. From there she'll take 70 over to Colorado, then head north on 25 to Wyoming and up into Montana. Then from there she'd take 94 east through Montana into North Dakota, then south on 29 through South Dakota and into Nebraska. From there she'd take 80 west back into Colorado and hook back up with Hwy 70 and ultimately, complete the circle back through Utah into Nevada.

She wonders if she can make a trip of that magnitude in two weeks, but she likes to drive. She likes driving for days; being alone with her thoughts and the open road. She wants to turn her heart inside out, dump out the contents, and examine the findings. She wants to spend some time thinking about the cause of her restlessness. Even though her job is hard and her life is uncomfortable sometimes, she loves it. She loves the challenge and the environment and - -

Him. Yes. Him.

And now he knows, she's sure this time. She was as obvious as a blow to the head with a sledgehammer the last time, in his office, after the explosion.

Nick tells her she has a set of iron balls. Is that a compliment? If so, she finds it a little absurd. And kind of, well, sexist and creepy. But she knows what he means. She's brave, and strong, and unafraid, and he's impressed by that sort of thing. He's just not terribly eloquent. Kind of like someone else she knows.

This. What the hell does "this" mean? Thinking about it makes her angry and she accelerates to pass a carload of senior citizens on the interstate. She turns the radio up.

"And you say," she sings along. "Stay."