Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or anything related.

Chapter 1: The Gully

As Grissom, Sara, and Nick exited their SUV and made their careful way over the rocks to where Detective Jim Brass and Officer Jamieson stood waiting, they took in their surroundings with practiced eyes. The sun was just rising, slowly warming the desert, and Grissom sighed as he pushed his sunglasses up his nose again. It was going to be a long day after an even longer night, and he wasn't looking forward to it. Nevertheless, he kept his displeasure to himself, banished all thoughts of his bed from his mind, and glanced down into the gully before them. The body rested at the bottom, and Grissom sighed again.

"What's up, Jim?"

Brass chuckled at the look on Grissom's face, and wiped the sweat from his face with the sleeve of his jacket. "DB, as I'm sure you can see; black male, in his late twenties or thereabouts."

"Been down there already, have you? Quite a climb," Nick prodded, noting how the Captain's breathing was fairly heavy. Brass gave him a look.

"Yeah, well, I'm not climbing down there with you again, so have fun, Nicky."

Sara, smiling at their easy banter, stepped up next to Grissom and glanced down as well. The side of the gully wasn't too steep, and they would probably be able to walk down it; they would be able to walk up it, too, even if it did take an extra bit of effort. She remembered the last case she had had down in a gully like this, and she looked over at Grissom, whose eyes remained fixed straight ahead.

"Too bad we couldn't get a chopper, at least for the body; then we could hitch a ride."

Grissom didn't respond, merely glancing at her for a moment before turning to talk to Brass, and she frowned and looked away.

Great, he's mad at me again, she thought bitterly, but the next second she forced the thought out of her mind as Officer Jamieson, Nick and Grissom began walking down the slope towards the body. Get your ass in gear, Sidle, she reprimanded herself, and she followed after them, making sure to keep her balance so she didn't make an even bigger fool of herself.

Getting down the hill was harder than Sara had thought it would be; despite the many rocky areas there were also areas that were simply sand and shale, and if they weren't careful the ground would shift and slide right out from under them. All were grateful when they were on firm ground again, and could make their way over to the body without worry.

"All right," Grissom began, surveying the scene as Jamieson took up a stand a few yards away, "we can't touch the body yet, David's still out there somewhere, so I want you two to just take a look around, see if there's anything that might be relative to the case. Bag anything and everything; it's all evidence…"

"Until it's not, Gris, we know," Nick supplied, a grin flickering over his features.

Grissom shook his head, and a wry smile lit his own face briefly. "Get to work, Nick."

Well, Sara thought with a sigh as she began a systematic search in the pathetic looking shrubs at the side of the gully, at least someone's still in his good books. Then, once again, she immediately felt guilty. It wasn't Nick's fault that Grissom was being an ass to her. Pushing all thoughts of her two colleagues from her mind then, Sara turned back to the task at hand. At least her work was something that was easily understood.

As Grissom glanced over the body and began taking pictures, he couldn't help but feel guilty for ignoring Sara. He didn't like the way things were going between them, and he often lay awake at night agonizing over what he should do. When it came right down to it, though, he couldn't seem to change anything. Whenever she tried to start up a conversation with him, he either cut it short or ignored her completely. It was hard, trying to understand both her and himself. Or maybe, he thought irritably, you're just too scared to try.

With that thought chasing around in his brain, Grissom moved from the body and began his own search of the surrounding area, avoiding the sections that Nick and Sara had already been through. It was hard work, climbing his way over the rocks and debris under a hot sun, and it wasn't long before Grissom had to shed his jacket. He cursed his dark clothes, wishing that he had chosen to wear lighter colours today, but in the end there wasn't much he could do about it and he settled into a routine – take a few steps, search the area, wipe the sweat from his face, and then do it again.

Finally, he had to admit that there was nothing there for him find. Glancing up, he saw that Nick and Sara were still searching, though they both looked discouraged; it wasn't surprising. It had been close to an hour since they started, and while they had already covered most of the ground that warranted attention, he knew there wasn't much hope that the rest of the area would yield results. And even when they were finished with the surrounding area, they still needed to take a look at the body. Walking back to their victim, where he had left his kit, Grissom pulled out a bottle of water and took a sip. He grimaced as the liquid slid over his parched tongue; the sun had warmed it to the point that while it wet his mouth, it did little to make him feel any cooler.

"Great," he sputtered, swallowing the disgusting stuff anyways, "Just great."

"Do I detect a note of sarcasm, Gris? What's up?" Sara asked from behind him, and he jumped.

He started to say 'nothing,' but then cringed internally. It was a bottle of water, for crying out loud, what was the point in avoiding it?

"My water's warm," he told her, holding up the bottle. "It's been in the sun too long."

Sara laughed, but she wasn't laughing at him, and suddenly the fact that they were stuck at a crime scene in the middle of the desert under the hot sun didn't seem like such a bad thing anymore. Grissom smiled. It's ok, he told himself. For now, everything's ok.

Just then, they were interrupted as Nick called to them from where he was working, farther down the gully.

"Wonder what he's found," Grissom mused out loud.

Sara glanced at him; he was so hard to figure out. One minute he wouldn't even respond to something she said to him, and the next he was the one initiating the conversation.

"Probably something better than what we found," she replied, and then she began to pick her way over the rocks to where the Texan stood, waving his arms.

Taking a last swig from his warm water bottle, Grissom made a face, replaced the offending item in his kit, and followed.

"Shoeprint," Nick informed them, as he snapped another picture and then began to make a mould of the impression.

"Good work, Nicky," Grissom complimented the younger man, kneeling down to take a look himself. It wasn't a great print – a breeze had already distorted it somewhat – but it was all they had and Grissom would take it. When Nick was finished, they stood and made their way back to the body and Officer Jamieson together.

"Take a look at the body," Grissom said, running the short sleeve of his shirt over his face again, "Tell me if you see anything of interest. Don't touch."

Both Nick and Sara stared at him, and he sighed. "Just reminding you," he defended himself. They just shook their heads, and turned back to the body.

"He's got lacerations on his neck, Gris," Sara pointed out, and Grissom nodded. He had already seen those; he was hoping that they would notice something that he had missed.

It only took ten minutes for the two younger CSIs to become frustrated again, and they looked up at Grissom.

"Gris, this is stupid, where the hell is David?"

"I have no idea, Nick, so just keep looking. Your eyes do work, don't they?"

"Yeah, but…"

"But nothing, Nick; we do what we can until David gets here."

Nick didn't respond, but it was obvious he was annoyed when he crouched down next to the body again and began to inspect the victim's clothing.

Another five minute passed, and then they all glanced up as Jamieson's radio crackled loudly.

For a moment he spoke with the person on the other end, and then he turned to the criminalists. "The coroner's here," he informed them. "You should be able to get started on the body for real in a few minutes."

"Thank God," Grissom muttered, "It's about time."

Nick and Sara sat back on their heels in relief, grateful that they would finally be able to do something that would actually be productive, and might help the case. Glancing up at Grissom, Sara was about to ask whether they were going to inspect the body here or wait till it was back at the morgue when she stopped short at the look of horror on his face.

"Gris, what…" And then she turned to follow the direction of his gaze, and she felt herself go cold. A wall of water was rushing down on them from the head of the gully, and it was moving fast.

"Run!" Grissom bellowed, and before she could move he had grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to her feet, shoving her towards the side of the gully. "Go!"

And she did, running, stumbling over the rocks, with the three men right behind her. As they reached the side and began to climb, Nick quickly passed the group and made it to the top, pulled up by Brass and David. Immediately, when he was safe, he turned and grabbed Sara's arm.

"Sara," he yelled. His face was white with fear as the water rushed closer. "Sara, you can do it, God, please, you can do it!"

Suddenly, beside Sara, Officer Jamieson slipped on the shale. In a panic, he lunged upwards and grabbed Nick. The sudden weight caused the younger man to slip himself, and he hit the ground hard, losing his grip on Sara as he did so. Sara, who had been trusting Nick to help pull her up, fell backwards, as did Officer Jamieson.

Grissom saw it all from behind Sara, and without even thinking he lunged sideways and wrapped his arms around her. Together, the two of them slid backwards until they were almost at the bottom again. Swearing, Grissom dug his heels into the slope and pushed upwards with all his strength.

"Jim!" he screamed, shoving Sara ahead of him, "Jim, take her!" But she slid back into him again, unable to regain her footing, and finally he wrapped his arms around her again and threw her upwards. Brass, leaning over as far as he could, managed to grab hold of her hand, and he pulled her up.

"Come on, Grissom!" he yelled, as he and David both leaned over again, reaching for Grissom's hand. But throwing Sara the way he had had ruined his balance, and as he slid backwards the water roared the last few feet and snatched his legs out from under him, engulfing him in its raging mass and lifting his body off the ground.

"Jim!" he screamed, clawing at the rocks in a desperate attempt to haul himself out, but the torrent was too strong and he was once again submerged, his body ripped from the rocky face as debris slammed into him. The last thing he saw as he was swept under was Officer Jamieson's terrified face as he, too, lost his hold and was swallowed.

"Grissom! No!" It was all Brass could do to hold onto Sara as she kicked and screamed and fought, her only thoughts of Grissom, and the look on his face as he had realized they wouldn't be able to save him.

"No, Sara, you can't. I'm so sorry, sweetheart, you can't. I'm sorry." Tears were running down his face, but no one else was crying; all Sara could do was scream; David was sitting in the dust, shock written all over his face; Nick was the same way, clutching his wounded arm too his chest.

"I'm sorry, Sara," Brass repeated, as suddenly her body went limp in his arms. "God, I'm so sorry." And then she cried, too; great sobs that shook her whole body, and slowly the two sank to the ground, crying and holding each other as the water rushed on beneath them.

"It was a flash flood," the man quietly informed them half an hour later. "The heavy rain started about eight o'clock, up in the mountains; there was nothing that could have been done."

Brass, Nick and Sara just stared blankly at him, and a few seconds later, he walked away.

"Flash flood," Nick muttered, "Of course it was a flash flood. We're not stupid. None of us are stupid." His body trembled slightly as the tears started again, and Brass pulled him into a rough hug, trying to comfort the younger man in any way he could. When Nick finally regained control of himself and pulled back, Brass glanced at Sara, checking to see if she was all right. She wasn't. Her face was completely blank, her eyes misted over, and it appeared that she would collapse at any second. She was completely exhausted, both emotionally and physically.

"Sara," he murmured, taking her arm and pulling her towards him, "Sara, talk to me."

But she merely stared right through him, and as her body began to tremble he hugged her tightly to his chest. "It's ok," he murmured, "It's going to be ok."

"What do you mean he's gone?" Catherine screamed, as she stood next to the ambulance at the top of the gulley. She had been called fifteen minutes before, and she, Warrick and Greg had broken all the speed limits on the ride here. And now she found that it was for nothing. Grissom was gone.

"How could you?" she screamed, "How could you let this happen?"

Brass shook his head, and pulled Sara's sleeping form closer to him. "I'm sorry, Catherine," he told her, his voice soft, "I tried to… we all tried. It was a flash flood. There was nothing we could do."

But Catherine, almost hysterical, couldn't be convinced, and she turned and stormed over to the gulley. The water was practically gone now; it had slowed and then reduced to a trickle mere minutes after it began, and Catherine half-ran, half-slid down the incline, screaming his name.

"Grissom! Gil!"

She only got a few yards before Warrick caught up to her and grabbed her.

"Catherine, stop," he began, but she turned and smacked him.

"No, you stop!" she screamed. "You just stop, damn it! Let me go! Grissom!"

"Catherine, Cath, hey, come here."

"No! God damn you!" she hit him again, slamming her fists into his chest, and he didn't try to stop her until she collapsed into his arms, sobbing. "Oh God, Grissom."

Still sitting in the ambulance beside Greg and Nick, Brass forced himself not to cry as he heard Catherine's agonized screams. Despite Grissom's best efforts to remain removed from the people he worked with, he had failed, and they hadn't realized how much they loved him until he was gone.

"He's gone," Brass muttered, and the words didn't sound right. How could Grissom be gone, anyways?

Nick and Greg, both lost in thought, glanced at him. "What?" Nick asked, his voice cracking as he was overcome by his emotions again. Greg patted his shoulder tentatively, his own eyes watering.

"You never… you never realize how much you love someone, until they're gone," Brass said, and he hugged Sara tighter as the tears started again. Shit. He wished he could sleep, like her; wished he had exhausted himself in frantic denial of what had happened and then gotten lost in the comforting blackness. But he couldn't, because he needed to take care of her. Grissom would have wanted him to take care of her.

"She's exhausted," Greg murmured, as though he had read Brass's mind. "Maybe we should take her home."

"Yeah," Brass responded, rubbing his face with his free arm. "Nick, are you ok?"

"I'm fine, Jim. Everything's taken care of."

He held up his bandaged arm. It still hurt - the paramedics had said he had probably bruised the bone – but the last thing he wanted to do was go to the hospital to get any tests done. He just wanted to go home, and maybe get a drink; or two, or three. Maybe they would banish Grissom from his mind; wipe away the image of his mentor's terror as he was pulled under. And he definitely did not want to be here when the search team found Grissom's body.

"Yeah… once Warrick and Catherine get back, let's get out of here."

A moment later, Warrick appeared before them, his arms still wrapped around Catherine, whose eyes were red and puffy from crying.

"I'm sorry," she whispered hoarsely. "I'm so sorry."

Brass shook his head. "I know, Cath," he replied, just as softly. And then he glanced at Warrick; his eyes were still wet, and it relieved Brass to see that he wasn't going to try and push it away. He didn't think that any of them could handle being cut off from each other at a time like this.

"Come on, guys," he said then, "Let's go."

Sara was so light Brass was able to carry her to his car without waking her, and he set her down on the back seat gently, suddenly worried about her weight. She shouldn't be so thin. Yet even as he thought it, he realized that it was absurd to be thinking about such a thing at a time like this, and he sighed and released his hold on her. At the loss of contact she whimpered in her sleep, and her eyelids flickered.

"Hey," he murmured, touching her cheek, "Its ok, sweetheart, we're here. It's ok." Nick slid in beside her and she calmed. Brass took in the sight for a moment, noting how Sara looked heartbroken even in sleep, and Nick just looked lost.

For Grissom, it was over. For them, it was just beginning. As he got into the driver's side, he caught a glimpse of Warrick's SUV driving slowly down the road; Catherine sat in the front seat, staring blankly out the window; Greg sat in the back, his body shaking with sobs. Yes; for them, it was only beginning.

It didn't take long to reach Sara's house, and Brass carried her inside; once again, she didn't wake up, and he laid her in her bed and pulled up the covers, kissing her forehead gently as he would his own daughter as he tucked her in. He wasn't surprised when Nick crawled onto the bed as well, lying down beside her and resting his injured arm over her stomach protectively.

"You're right, Jim," he murmured as a stray tear trickled down his cheek, and he closed his eyes again. "You never know how much you love someone until they're gone. She's been waiting for so long… and now there's no chance he'll ever figure it out."

Brass had no response to that, and he slumped down wearily in the chair beside her bed. "God, Grissom, why did you have to leave her?" he said into the silence, but he received no answer. "At least when you were here, there were some good times."

Hours later, Brass was pulled from his light doze by the feeling of someone watching him, and he looked up; his eyes were immediately drawn to the wide, agonized brown gaze that stared back at him.

"He's really gone, isn't he?" she whispered hoarsely.

He wanted to lie; wanted to tell her that Grissom was fine, and everything was going to be all right. But he couldn't, so he nodded his head stiffly. "Yeah, Sara. He's gone."

And she closed her eyes, and turned over, burying her head in Nick's chest. If Grissom was gone, then there was no longer any reason to get up. There was no longer any reason to live.