Title: Come Together

Disclaimer: No, I don’t own CSI. Bummer. I also don’t own the song “Beer For My Horses”. Bummer again.

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Sara Sidle pulled into her parking spot. Her VW Bug was coughing and sputtering like mad and she was already 10 minutes late for work. Slamming the door she hastily climbed the steps and ran right in to Gil Grissom.

“Sorry,” she murmured, “My alarm didn’t go off and I pulled a triple last night. I tried to call on my way in, but my cell phone battery had died and… yeah,” She finished lamely. Grissom just stared at her. Finally, putting his hand on the small of her back to lead her to the car, he spoke up.

“We have a DB at the Wayside Chapel. Black male about 30 years of age was hung on the cross. Possible suicide,” Grissom said, briefing her. They began to walk to the car. Sara stopped suddenly and said, “Crap! I forgot my kit! Uh… you can go without me, I’ll just be a few minutes.”

Running inside she went to her locker and grabbed the standard issue black bag. She walked down the hall to the supply closet and grabbed some gloves, swabs and refilled her bottle of luminal. She began to run back out to her car, when she remembered that she forgot the keys to the car. “Get a grip, Sidle,” she told herself, “You can’t lose your mind every time you work with Grissom!” Grabbing the keys, she walked out to the car and began to drive to the crime scene. Unfortunately for her, she never saw the man crouching in the back seat.

Sara cranked the radio. Nick was beginning to rub off on her she realized as she sang along to “Beer for My Horses”. Her stomach began to rumble, causing her to realize that she hadn’t eaten since at least two days ago. She pulled off the road at the corner store and bought a donut. She didn’t remember the last time she’d had one. She was sitting there with half a donut in her mouth when it happened. A black gloved hand grabbed her from behind and began to pull her in the back.

“Well, I guess I’m not going to be processing today,” was her last thought before blacking out.

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Grissom looked at his watch impatiently. It had only been fifteen minutes, but for him it had felt like hours. “What’s up with her? First she’s late for work, and then she’s late processing. ” Turning to the body hanging from the ceiling, he began to work. Every once in a while he would find the stray fiber or hair particle, bag it, and look at his watch. Grissom had been working for 3 hours. “This means a ton of paperwork later,” Griss said to no one in particular. He was just checking the rope for evidence, when he felt someone tap his shoulder.

“Sara! Glad you finally…” he started. He would have finished the sentence if it weren’t for the fact that he had been knocked unconscious.