Chapter 5

After Grissom had left Sara's apartment, she simply sat for a while, staring at the door he had closed behind him. She sighed heavily as she thought about the last few hours and shook her head in weary disbelief. If she had known that getting drunk would manage to get Grissom to open up to her a little, she would have tried that long ago –

No… NO… She scolded herself for being so utterly pathetic. What had gotten into her? She couldn't believe that particular thought had even popped into her head. As much as she desired Grissom and longed for him to feel the same way about her, she never would want his affections if they were only the result of his feeling some kind of pity for her. That was the last way she wanted a man, any man – least of which Gil Grissom. Get a grip, Sara, she told herself.

She shook her head as she stood up from the couch and shuffled over to the kitchen to start a fresh pot of coffee. She needed the caffeine desperately. Her hand on her head, she felt like it was splitting in two from the lingering aftereffects of her latest drinking foray - the pain, no doubt playing an integral part in the nonsensicality of her rambling thoughts. She tried to lick her lips, but her mouth was as parched as the Nevada desert that lay just outside of the Vegas city limits. She grasped the coffee pot, and as she poured out the remaining dregs from the previous night's coffee down the sink, she caught her reflection in the stainless steel surface of her refrigerator. She paused for a moment and placed the pot back on the counter. Peering closer at her image, she noted how deathly pale her skin was, and there were dark circles beneath her eyes. She looked more like the victims she processed every night in the morgue than a living, breathing human being. She realized, as if for the very first time, she was but a mere ghost of her former vivacious and happy self. Where has that Sara gone? she wondered.

"That's it," she said aloud. "No more."

With the swift and sure movements of a woman on a mission, she threw open her cabinet doors and yanked down every bottle of liquor she could find. She then jerked open her refrigerator door and angrily hauled out the half-empty six pack and a bottle of wine. One by one she opened them all and dumped their contents down the sink. Staring at the drain as the liquid swirled and then disappeared, Sara nodded, self-satisfied. She had to admit, for all the embarrassment and repercussions, getting pulled over for DUI was the kick in the ass she so desperately needed. She was slave to no master – least of all one in a bottle. This particular method of dealing with her pain had to end – and by God, she was going to end it right here and right now. Feeling a vague sense of accomplishment, Sara decided to take a shower and headed towards the bathroom leaving the empty bottles strewn around the kitchen, silent witnesses to her new resolve.

XxxOOOxxX

After Grissom had returned from Personnel to retrieve the papers for the annual conference he was attending, he went straight back to his office and picked up the phone. First he dialed the airline to move up the date of the flight he was taking - and to add an extra passenger. Once that was taken care of, he paged Catherine to meet him in his office before the end of the shift. In the meantime, he tried to clear as much of the stacks of paperwork off his desk as he could before turning the reigns of the night shift over to his second in charge. She should at least be able to see the desk, he thought to himself as he waded in. It wasn't easy however, as his mind kept wandering back to Sara. Exactly how was he going to get her on a plane with him to this conference – an entomological conference no less? He couldn't tell her she was actually on leave – she'd never go anywhere with him then. No, he had to make it work-related – make her think she was on the job when in actuality it was just the opposite – he was trying to get her away from the lab for a while… Damn. How am I going to get away with this?

"You wanted to see me?" Catherine asked as she stood in the doorway. She seemed a little more tired than usual, and Grissom winced inwardly in anticipation of the response he knew he was going to get when he told her that both he and Sara would not be at the lab for the next two weeks.

"Yes. Catherine. Please, have a seat."

She looked at Grissom warily. "Uh oh. This can't be something good if you want me to be sitting to hear it."

Grissom took his glasses off and laid them on the open file on his desk as he leaned back in his chair. He worked his jaw, trying to find the right words to say what was on his mind. "You know that I'm going to be away for the next two weeks for my annual Entomological Conference."

"Yes, I've got an extra sitter lined up for the overtime I know I'll be putting in covering both of our jobs while you're gone."

"Well… I'm going to be leaving a couple of days early…"

"What, your cockroaches getting ancy for the races and want to get there early to check out the competition?" she wisecracked.

"No. They're thoroughbreds and I have every confidence they'll finish tops in their respective races this year regardless of the competition."

Catherine rolled her eyes. "Uh huh… Well… a couple of extra days being short-handed aren't too bad. I think we can handle it."

He nodded. "Under normal circumstances, I'm sure you're right. However… Sara's going to be taking some unexpected personal leave during this time as well. But I've made arrangements for a temporary replacement to cover her shifts."

Catherine blinked hard and her jaw hung open in astonishment. "What? Sara taking time off? Don't tell me the world officially ended while Warrick and I were processing that DB at the Tangiers?" Sara was the unofficial queen of overtime at the LVPD Crime Lab and had more leave time accrued than anyone else in its history – except perhaps for Grissom. She never took off. Ever.

Grissom gave her a disapproving scowl and Catherine shrugged.

"Come on, Gil. Even you have to admit that it would have to take something damn serious to make Sara take leave willingly. Is everything alright with her family?"

"It's called Personal Leave for a reason Catherine. It's none of our business, but I believe she needs to spend some time with a friend out of state." At least it wasn't an out-and-out lie.

"Oh. Okay." Catherine was a bit dubious, but resigned to the situation. "Well… We'll manage somehow; we always do. It's a good thing things are usually slower around here this time of year. Who's the temp and when can we expect them?"

"I told Personnel that we needed someone by the end of the week, so you shouldn't be without an extra hand for more than a couple of days. I believe Ecklie's going to loan us someone from days. Use Greg as much as you can while we're both gone – he needs the field training and he's shown he's responsible enough to do some basic evidence collection and tagging, and he can take photographs."

"That'll make Greg very happy, I'm sure." She gave Grissom a crooked grin, "You owe me big time – you know that right?"

"Yes, Catherine…" Grissom's tone was that which a husband would use with his wife when he knows he can't win the argument.

Catherine stood and walked towards the door. Before stepping out she turned and said, "Bring me back a nice souvenir this time, okay, Gil? No more gold-plated beetles…" She shuddered visibly as she strode down the hallway, leaving Grissom in his office with a slightly injured and disbelieving look on his face. Who wouldn't like gold-plated beetles?

XxxOOOxxX

Grissom locked up his townhouse and carried his bags out to his car. The sun was rapidly rising in the sky and the dry desert air was growing warmer by the minute. It didn't take long on a summer day in Vegas for the temperatures to climb into the hundreds and he was glad that he was headed for a little more temperate climate.

After loading his bags in the trunk and climbing into the driver's seat, Grissom decided he should try calling Sara again to let her know that he was on his way towards her apartment. He knew she was expecting him to pick her up so that they could get her car out of the Impound lot, but he wanted to remind her that he was coming and, since he had actually managed to leave the lab on time this morning in order to pack for the trip, he would be earlier than expected. He had called previously during his shift, but she hadn't answered her cell or home phone. He expected that she had probably turned them off – loud ringing noises weren't exactly pleasant when one was suffering from a hangover, which he had no doubt she probably had been. But it had been several hours since he had tried calling her last. Surely she would have turned them back on by now.

As Sara's home phone continued to ring, Grissom frowned. He tried her cell again with the same results. It wasn't like Sara to not be available to be reached. Growing concerned, Grissom stepped on the gas in an unconscious attempt to get to her apartment faster. Upon arriving, he took the steps two at a time up to her apartment and knocked on her door. No answer. He knocked again and listened for any shuffling on the other side, but could hear nothing. This isn't right, he thought, she should be here. On the off chance that she hadn't locked her door, he tried the knob but it was secure. As he stood there debating what to do next, he looked around for any evidence of a hidden spare key. A middle-aged woman, wearing a housecoat with a hideous pattern of orange and hot-pink flowers, slippers, a newspaper in her hand and a cigarette dangling from her mouth, walked by on the sidewalk below him.

"Hey, you up there. You need help with something? I don't think Sara's home. Her car's not in her spot." She yelled up at him, the cigarette bobbing up and down on her lips with each word.

Grissom turned around to face her, "Yes, I know. I brought her home last night. You wouldn't happen to know if the manager's available, would you? I need to get inside and make sure she's alright – she's not answering her phone."

"I'm the manager – but who are you? I can't let just anyone in." She eyed him warily.

"I'm her boss…" he hesitated, "and a friend."

"I'll go get the key."

Within minutes the manager had returned and climbed the steps to Sara's apartment. As she approached she said, "You must be Dr. Grissom then."

Grissom's brows rose and he gave her a questioning look, "Yes…"

She shrugged. "She talks about you a lot."

As she unlocked the door Grissom stepped in tentatively, calling out, "Sara? Sara, are you here?"

He looked around and immediately noted the empty bottles on the counter in the kitchen. His heart skipped a beat. Surely she hadn't started drinking again when he left…

He could hear a faint humming sound coming from behind a door he assumed had to be Sara's bedroom just down the hallway.

"Sara?" he called again. When he still didn't hear an answer, he strode towards the door.

XxxOOOxxX

Sara was busy straightening her hair with her blow-dryer when she thought she heard a voice coming from her living room. Furrowing her brows she turned off the dryer and then cocked her head to listen more carefully. She glanced at her clock; it was too early for Grissom to be there – he never left the lab on time. Hearing something that sounded like footsteps, Sara reached into her bureau drawer for her service revolver and stepped cautiously towards her bedroom door. As she was about to grasp the knob she saw it turn. Eyes wide, she stepped back and raised her weapon while barking out, "Who's there?"

The door opened, revealing an obviously worried Grissom now frozen in place. His mind registered the barrel of the gun pointed at him, but more terrifying to him was the wild fear present in Sara's dark eyes. He tried to calm her by raising his palms in surrender and quietly calling out to her.

"Sara…"

"Grissom?" Sara gasped as she lowered her revolver and flipped the safety back on. Fear then morphed into confusion and finally into anger. Her head and voice shaking, she shouted at him.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Grissom let out a very loud, relieved sigh as his hands dropped back to his sides.

"You didn't answer your phone or your door. I saw the bottles… and…" his voice trailed off as his eyes took in Sara's form for the first time. She was wrapped only in a towel, which barely covered her torso and clung to her like a second skin. Never had he seen Sara in so little clothing and as much as he knew he should, he couldn't tear his eyes away from her. She was stunning and, as always seemed to be the case whenever he was near Sara, left him speechless.

Sara was too upset to notice Grissom's stare at first, still trying to comprehend why he was standing in front of her in the first place.

"How did you get in here?"

"I let him in, Sara." Sara's landlady peaked out from behind Grissom's shoulder. "He wanted to make sure you were alright."

Sara blinked and then gave her a small smile. "Thanks, Mrs. Grady. I'll take it from here, okay?"

"Sure, honey. I'll talk to you later." Mrs. Grady glanced from Sara to Grissom, and then turned and left.

Sara turned her gaze back to Grissom, and finally noticing his own she glanced down and realized the state of her undress. Self-conscious, she pointed towards the living room.

"Well, you've seen that I'm fine."

"Yes."

Grissom was still too distracted to take her hint.

"So…" Sara was becoming more uncomfortable by the second.

He blinked. "Oh… right." Grissom finally realized what Sara was getting at. "Right. I'll, uh… I'll wait for you out there." He pointed over his shoulder to the living room and biting his bottom lip in embarrassment, grasped the doorknob and shut the door.

Sara dropped her chin to her chest and then walked over to her bureau and returned the revolver back to its drawer. She then sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at her trembling hands as she let out a long, ragged breath. Life was becoming a just a little too exciting for comfort recently: first - having a shotgun pointed in her face just days before, then a DUI and Grissom's uncharacteristic reaction, now this. Maybe I do need a vacation, she thought ruefully.

TBC