It's their second full day in New York, and she and Warrick are standing behind the glass in the Interrogation Room, watching Sipowicz and Clark interview Steven Cameron. She's not sure how it's going, but beside her, Warrick is steaming, seething with indignation over being kept out here. Sipowicz had refused to let them in, pointing out in no uncertain terms that they'd had their shot in Vegas and screwed it up, using those exact words. Warrick had opened his mouth to reply, and only Tony's interjection had saved his office from needing extensive redecoration. He'd sent the two New Yorkers out, telling her and Warrick that Sipowicz had a point, that maybe they were better off staying out of it for the time being.

Warrick hadn't taken it well, had unloaded on Tony, because it wasn't the first time that he and Sipowicz had clashed, and the older man's lack of respect was driving him crazy. Tony had leaned forward, elbows on the desk, saying, "Look, I know he's hard to get along with-"

"Hard to-" Warrick had been about to blow again, but Sara had interrupted him.

"You trust him?" she demanded of Tony, and he regarded her seriously, because they'd had dinner out the previous evening, and he'd told her all about Andy Sipowicz, how he'd helped him out of a jam once. He probably wouldn't have expected her to question him again.

"With my life." He didn't pause for thought, just shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "Someone I love got hurt? He's the one I'd want handling the case."

Sara had nodded. "Come on," she'd said to Warrick. "Let's go watch."

Warrick hasn't spoken a word since, but he does now. "You really think this Sipowicz guy-"

She turns to him, arms crossed over her chest, eyes him steadily. "You heard what Tony said," she reminds him, and he raises an eyebrow.

"I know you two have history," he says, and considering the look he'd given her this morning when he'd knocked on her door and found her in her room, she's grateful that that's all he says. "But is that really enough for you?"

She doesn't pause for thought. "Yes." Warrick's visibly taken aback, even more so at her next words. "I trust him." Because she doesn't trust easily, and Warrick knows this. "Do you trust me?"

It's much the same question that Grissom once asked her, and the irony's not lost on her. She never got to answer the question, though she knows that her answer then would be different to the one she'd give now, and she's surprised to find out how much his answer means to her, how much she wants it to be yes.

He sighs, shifts on his feet. "You know I do," he tells her, sounding disgusted that she even has to ask, and she tries to hide her smile.

"So then we wait," she says simply, and side by side, they watch the interview.