Sara knows that Grissom thinks it's odd when she comes into his office, not asking for, but demanding, time off, but she's not in a position to care right now. She's just about holding it together, and she has to catch a flight to New York that's leaving in a couple of hours. She sees the curiosity in his eyes, but the urgency in her tone, in her demeanour, must stop him asking why, because he tells her that she can go.

Not that it would have mattered, because Sara knows that nothing Grissom could have said would have stopped her from getting on the plane. After all, Tony Rodriguez is one of the few people in her life who's never let her down, never hurt her, and she needs to see him.

The plane doesn't fly fast enough, and the cab doesn't move fast enough for her tastes, and it seems like forever before she gets to the hospital. She asks for him by name, finds the right place easily, is hugged by the mother and sister who both remember her well, though she only met them once and hasn't seen them in years, and is ushered straight into his room, past the curious eyes of his co-workers.

He's awake, which heartens her, and his eyes flicker when she says his name, a ghost of a smile passing his lips. "So this is what it takes to get you back to New York," he quips, and a sound that's half-laugh, half-sob, escapes her lips.

"I came as soon as I heard," she tells him, taking his hand as she sinks into a chair. "Anna called me." His lips turn up at the mention of his sister's name, but when his fingers touch her palm, a frown replaces the smile, deepening as he really looks at her for the first time.

"What happened?" he asks, turning her palm up, so they can both see the stitches there, and she knows he's seen the faded cuts on her face too.

"Explosion at the lab," she replies with a nonchalant shrug. "But I'm fine. Really." Except she dreams of hitting the ground hard as shards of glass dance on her skin, and she's not sure she's ever going to feel the same walking into the lab again. But she doesn't tell Tony that, because he's lying here with a gunshot wound to one lung.

"No you're not," he says quietly, the words hitting her like a gunshot, because they both know how true they are.

She says nothing, then she smiles, déjà vu settling over her. "We're some pair huh?" He blinks, then smiles slowly, and she knows that he's remembering, as she is, another time that they sat together, when their world had been shaken to its foundations.

"Yeah," he says, fingers tightening on hers. "Guess we are."