In the wake of the disaster at the lab, a brief moment of discussion about nothing and everything passes between two CSI's.

Disclaimer: No infringement on the rights and property are intended by the writing of this brief story. No profit is being made.

Spoilers: Speculation on "Play With Fire".

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She stood quietly at the doorway, her face expressionless in the harsh fluorescent lighting overhead that made the bandage covering the stitches over her forehead stand out so appallingly in her pale face. "Sara?" Grissom cleared his throat when her name became choked on his lips. "Sara?" He tried again. "Is something wrong?"

She shook her head, a minute action that still made her wince. "You should be at home, resting." He prodded, gentle in his own way. "The doctor said - "

"I know." She cut him off, her bandaged wrist waving at him. "I was there too, Gris. I just... how's Greg doing?"

"Fine." Grissom slid his glasses off his nose and dropped them carelessly to the rough surface serving as a temporary desk. They bounced off the open folder and clattered onto the metal desktop itself finding the only clear space available. The lab was completely shut down, for now, barring him from his office. Reconstruction had begun, now that the investigation as the cause of the explosion was over, but it would take a week or two to repair and replace all the damages. The samples that had been lost, however, were irreplaceable and that was what worried him most now. At least, that and Sara.

God, what a week. What a nightmare. He wasn't quite sure his heart had yet recovered from the shock of seeing Sara collapsed and hurt. And Greg. God. He shook his head. It was so much easier when the victims weren't people he knew, when the blood wasn't their blood and they weren't so damnably still.

"Gris?" She sounded so tired, as tired as he felt. Small wonder, she was bruised, battered, she had stitches in her head and was probably in shock from the explosion and fire itself.

"He's fine." Grissom sighed, rubbing his eyes wearily. "Awake. Alert. His parents are flying up to stay with him once he's released."

She nodded, again a small miniscule action since her neck and shoulders were so tender. She needed to be wrapped with heating pads, cuddled up in her bed. Preferably with him there to coddle her until she could stand it no more. Like it or not, in this case he WAS emotionally involved. "I should visit him." She mused.

"I'll take you." He offered immediately. It'd have to be tomorrow, anyway. Visiting hours were over for the evening. Which brought him right back to where his thoughts had started. "You should go home and get some rest, Sara. We could go visit Greg tomorrow."

Was it his imagination, or did she just seem to gray some more, exhaustion setting in heavily onto her thin body. Had she eaten today? Would she read into it too much if he asked?

"Gris?" She scuttled a little further into his temporary office, not so far as to be actually IN the office, but definitely on the other side of the doorframe. She leaned back against the wall, letting it bear her weight for her. "Can- can I ask you something?"

The Monarch Butterflies that had taken up residence in his gut this past twenty-four hours went berserk. She wasn't going to ask for another LOA, was she? He couldn't take it if she vanished, not right now. Not with everything else. His hearing, the explosion, Greg... Sara. "Sure." He croaked hoarsely, facing the firing squad head on.

"Do you..." She licked her lips. "When you said... I." She took a deep breath in and expelled it shakily. "Oh, this is stupid." She decided, partially turning to leave.

"Sara? What?"

She shook her head again. "It's just my good people skills. The ones I don't have." She laughed, a hollow dry sound without any real good humor. "I just- after the explosion when I was hurt and you showed up - I started to wonder. The last six months and all. Are we still friends? I mean. Like before?"

Oh, how to answer this. It was a fork in the road, one leaving to damnation, and the other leading to pain. Were they still friends like before? When he was her mentor and she was that brilliant student that so caught his mind afire? "No." He answered softly. "Not like before."

Her eyes were miserable. "Oh."

"Sara - don't." He chided her before she could run away and wallow miserably in the wrong interpretation. "You're not the student anymore." He tried to explain. "You're my equal. Well," He smiled deprecatingly. "I'm still your supervisor so that gives me a little inch up, but we're equals. We work together, and yes we're friends. Just with equality now."

She blinked, a single tear running down her cheek. Yes, she was given to the odd emotional outburst, but this was different. This was pain mingled with exhaustion and the human spirit pushed beyond some point of endurance. "Oh." She swallowed, it seemed like it was around some massive lump for the pronounced effort it took her. "So, I mean something to you? I'm not just an employee or something?"

"Yes, Sara." He nodded. "You're not just an employee. Go, home. Rest." He urged her. "You're exhausted, you're hurt and you need to heal. I'll pick you up around 2 to visit Greg, how does that sound?"

Her feet shuffled softly against the hard flooring almost restlessly, and her eyes burned into his face for a long moment. Somehow he kept his face neutral until she finally nodded and turned to leave. He watched her leave, and his eyes traced her shadow as it thinned and vanished on the floor in the hall. Then, and only then, he dropped his head into his hands and closed his eyes to will back away the tidal wave of heartache that swamped him. "God, Sara. You mean everything." He whispered helplessly. "Everything. And I can't do a damn thing about it."