Summary: This is my first attempt at Chapter fic, as well as anything other than a post-ep. Set in season 5, after Ecklie's little Yoko maneuver. Will eventually be GSR or at least GSUST. Hope you enjoy it.

Disclaimer: CBS: if you sue me, all you'll get is my crappy Geo Metro. Please don't. I really love that car.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Their pagers went off almost simultaneously. Sara glanced up from the small screen to see Grissom watching her, a peculiar look on his face; irritation mixed with a healthy dose of caution. She knew immediately that they were being paged by the same person.

Ecklie had always been slippery, but since his promotion he'd become insufferable. Sara knew that he had been infuriated by Grissom's cool dismissal when they were equals. His new position had allowed him to take revenge. Ecklie had proven his authority by transferring half of the night shift, and since then Sara'd had the unsettled feeling that he may not be finished with Grissom, or with the rest of them, for that matter. The fact that she had made it through the first round unscathed had only served to make her more guarded than ever. When she was around Ecklie she got a feeling of impending danger, like there was a shadow looming on the horizon. She had been hoping that his new responsibilities would make him more magnanimous. That he'd learn a little something about leadership, encouragement, the art of managing people. When he paged them, though, she knew. The thing within her that had been waiting and dreading settled quietly into place. This was it. In a moment she would find out what Ecklie, like a pitiless and petty deity, had in store.

Grissom was still looking at her, the question clear on his face. "Ecklie," she replied simply, with a nod. He held her gaze, grim. She wondered if he'd been waiting for the other shoe to drop, as well.

They put down the evidence they'd been working on and headed silently down the hall together. She walked closer beside him than she needed to, her shoulder brushing his. To be honest, they'd hardly spoken lately, but in that moment she wanted to be physically near him. It felt comforting somehow.

When they reached Ecklie's office, she saw his eyes flicker casually over their postures. Sara took a step away from Grissom, walking into the room first. Ecklie never did anything without an ulterior motive, and from this moment on every move they made must be deliberate. There was no way in hell she would ever let her guard down in front of this man.

"Hello Gil, Sara," he said in that smooth deceptive voice. "Please close the door and take a seat." By unspoken accord Sara sat while Grissom carefully closed the door behind them. As she heard it click shut Sara experienced a moment of irrational claustrophobia at being trapped in the small room with Ecklie. But then Grissom seated himself in the chair to her right. She glanced reflexively at him, and he met her eyes for a split second. It was all the reassurance she needed. When she turned back to Ecklie she was composed, prepared. She felt that she and Grissom were a united front; she thought that they were ready for anything he could throw their way.

She was wrong.

"I'll get right to the point," Ecklie began. He was seemingly concerned yet careful, thoroughly rehearsed. Sara was reminded, not for the first time, of a snake getting ready to strike. "I called you two here today because certain members of my staff have expressed… concerns… over behaviors in the workplace which they feel to be inappropriate." Grissom inclined his head, raising an eyebrow. "Inappropriate, Conrad?" he inquired noncommittally. "In what way?" Ecklie shifted in his seat, leaning forward to lace his fingers together on his desktop. Poised. "Well, Gil," he sighed regretfully, "I'm going to have to be frank with you. It seems that quite a few of your coworkers feel that your effectiveness at work is being hindered by your relationship… with Sara."

She couldn't help it; Sara's eyes widened as the blood turned cold in her veins. Every muscle in her back and shoulders tensed, but she didn't move, tried desperately not to give anything away through her posture. Sara and Grissom's relationship was such a sensitive subject that they couldn't even broach it between themselves. For Ecklie to make such an accusation was a shocking violation; it wasn't just untrue, but also inexcusably personal. In her peripheral vision Sara could see Grissom carefully removing his glasses. His preferred stall tactic. Ecklie looked slowly, shrewdly back and forth between them, clearly enjoying the awkwardness he had created. For a long strained minute nobody said a word.

It was Grissom who finally broke the ice. "Just exactly who made these complaints, Conrad?" he asked. His voice had turned tight, quiet, dangerous. Sara couldn't stop herself anymore; she looked over at him. His brows were drawn down and his left hand clenched tight around his glasses. His body looked stiff, like a coiled spring. Grissom was not a man who got angry easily. It was clear that he was absolutely furious. Somewhere in the back of Sara's mind, a tiny voice wondered about the speed of his pulse.

"Several members of the staff who wished to remain anonymous," Ecklie replied. "Suffice it to say that a considerable number of people felt concerned about this matter." Grissom's jaw flexed. "Well," he replied. "I hope that you advised said members of your staff to speak with me, so that I might assuage their concerns." Ecklie leaned back in his leather chair, completely at ease. "Actually, Gil," he said, "They didn't feel comfortable speaking to you about the subject. I assured them that I would take care of this problem myself."

Grissom's expression darkened with suspicion. "What do you mean, 'take care' of the problem, Conrad? There's no problem here. Sara and I have an extremely professional working relationship."

Sara looked away from Grissom, down at her hands.
Ecklie caught her movement. A half smile worked its way across his face.

"Do you," he asked softly.
"Yes," Grissom stated flatly. "We do."

"Well, Gil, I've heard differently," Ecklie said. "I've heard stories about inappropriate physical contact, which I feel is unacceptable in our work environment." His voice took on a new tone, smoothly businesslike. "As you may or may not know, the process of evaluating each CSI shift has been ongoing since I was promoted. Over the past few months I've been carefully observing each team, to better understand what should be done to improve their performances. Effective immediately, I'll be making one more change to the night shift."

He paused, eyes glittering. Sara felt it coming. Ecklie's reckoning. It was building, snowballing, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She clenched her teeth and waited.

"This will be the final reshuffling of CSI personnel," Ecklie continued. "Sara will be moving to days, and James Preston, a day shift CSI, will be joining the night shift. After Sara's transfer each team will be complete and every CSI will be assigned permanently to their specific shift."

Sara's ears were ringing; her fingers trembled. Slowly, as if in a trance, she looked back over at Grissom. He was sitting bolt upright, watching her with the strangest expression she'd ever seen. For a moment she forgot where they were, the fact that Ecklie was sitting three feet away. For a moment there were only Grissom's eyes locked on hers. A frisson passed between them, a helpless, sorrowful understanding.

So. This was how it would be.

Grissom tore his eyes from hers; they went, determined, to the smirking Ecklie. Sara knew what he would try to do. She also knew it wouldn't work. She was grateful to him, though, for trying.

"Ecklie," Grissom's voice was steady, and the words came quickly, caution and formalities put aside. "Sara is the last member of my original team. I value her insight and her investigative skills. We work well together and I believe that this is the wrong decision. Whatever problems you and I have should be worked out between the two of us. Don't punish Sara because of a grudge you have against me."

Ecklie laughed. "Punish her?" he asked incredulously. "Grissom, only you would be arrogant enough to assume that removing Sara from your supervision would be considered punishment." He shook his head, amused, and continued. "On the contrary, I believe that she will have the opportunity to grow and flourish on day shift. I agree wholeheartedly that Sara is an excellent CSI. I'm convinced that she'll be a valuable asset to-"

Ecklie's speech was drowned out by the sound of Sara's chair scraping back. Head held high and shoulders squared, she stood abruptly. She felt as if she had shaken off a long sleep. Her mind was totally clear, sharp and focused.

"Sara?" Ecklie asked, patronizing. "Would you like to add something to this discussion?"

"Yes, I would," Sara replied, her voice cold. Grissom was sitting forward on the edge of his seat; she felt his body language straining, urging discretion; she ignored him. Ecklie gave her a placating smile, and Sara's eyes narrowed with unrestrained fury. She caught her breath.

"Go to hell, you smarmy son of a bitch," Sara snapped.