Sara wakes up to the sound of the telephone; shrill and high. Thoughts dance and flicker through her mind. She never gets phone calls, and she rarely hears the telephone sound. She rubs her eyes, stretching before getting up. She glances at the clock on her nightstand: 11:00 am. Five hours of sleep. She can hear her doctor reprimanding her -- hear him telling her to get more sleep, to stop working so hard. She shakes her head, she doesn't need more sleep, and she doesn't work too hard. She hates her job, and the people she works with aren't kind. She wants to work somewhere else, but she doesn't like change, so she stays where she is.

The phone rings again, and she hurries to catch it. Maybe it's her mother, or an old friend. She reaches over and lifts the receiver, "Hello?"

"Sara Sidle?"

Her heart skips a beat, for she'd know that voice anywhere. Gil Grissom: Guest professor. She remembers lining up to talk to him, talking to him and watching his blue eyes flicker. She remembers his intelligence, and she remembers the feelings that smothered her. She remembers telling herself to get over him, and she did, at least, she thought she did. Now she doesn't know. "Gil Grissom," She says, finally finding her voice. "It's been awhile."

"It certainly has."

There is an awkward pause before she asks, "So why exactly did you--"

"Call?" he asks.

"Well, yes."

"Would you ever move to Vegas?" he asks.

It takes a moment before the question hits her. "Vegas?" She repeats stupidly. "I mean, Vegas? Why?"

"One of my CSIs was killed," Grissom says bluntly. "There's a job opening."

"I'm sure you could find a replacement, in Vegas."

"Probably, but I want you," He tells her.

She's rendered speechless for a moment. "Me."

"Yes."

"Why?" She asks, in confusion. All the years she's known Gil Grissom, he's never complimented her on her skills as a CSI. Never.

"Because you're good," He answers. "You're the kind of CSI I'm looking for."

"You think I'm a good CSI," she asks in a dubious tone.

"You're also someone that I trust," Grissom says.

"Wow, I never-I mean--" She falters, because she doesn't know what to say. "You're offering me a job?"

"Yes, with the Las Vegas Crime Lab. Graveyard shift."

"That's...a lot to process," She admits. "It's halfway across the country..."

"Think about it," Grissom says.

"Okay," she says slowly.

"Sara, I have to go. We're still investigating the death of Holly Gribbs. She's the CSI that was murdered. I just wanted to offer you the job, you'd be a great addition to the team."

"I'll think about it," she says again, before hanging up. She slowly exhales before she closes her eyes. Las Vegas. She looks out the window, and she thinks of Grissom's words. She thinks about her life here, and she thinks about the job offer.

Finally, Sara smiles, and says to herself, "Yeah, I'll go."