A/N: This story is dedicated to my best friend Evelyn (fanfic name 'Skylar Felton'), who was also the beta reader. What makes her so great is that she hates CSI with the fire of a thousand suns, and yet when I mentioned my previous author experience, which came with disheartening reviews, she went out of her way to surprise me with the newly edited version of my story. So Evelyn this is for you honey, Love you lots! Oh and also these are not my characters…..if they were I would not be living with my parents! Also I titled the chapters after songs, so at the end of each chapter I will give the artist and song, so that I don't get sued.
Chapter One – Have a Little Faith
The night shift of LA's CSI unit sat around a table in the break room awaiting their boss's arrival, when they would hear their assignments.
"You know what? I really wish that when Grissom wants us to be here, he is here as well."
Sara Sidle looked around at the small cluster of people sitting around the table. Meeting the small group's disapproving gaze, she slumped back into her seat.
"I know, I know. He's Grissom."
Sara let her head lean against the back of her seat, feeling more and more impatient. Grissom had called them all into the office - on her day off at that - telling them to high-tail it. She had grabbed her keys and cell phone, and had arrived at the office in record time, only to find he wasn't there.
Tired of staring at the ceiling, she let her gaze wander to the fellow occupants of the room - the other members of the small night shift. To her right sat Catherine Willows, single mother and senior CSI. Tonight she wore her shoulder length strawberry-blonde hair down, and she was dressed in a grey slack suit, with a light red top.
To her left sat Nick Stokes, and next to him Warrick Brown, each wearing a pair of black pants, and a shirt. They were two very contrasting characters - Warrick being quiet and serious, while Nick was the joker of the pair. Warrick, who had smooth brown skin and a slight afro, and Nick, sporting short brown hair and an easy - almost lazy - grin, were very good friends. Only one member of their small team was missing, and that was what was making Sara so fidgety.
"No separate cases tonight, we are on a mass murder," a new voice sliced the air. "No survivors and no witnesses. We need to solve this one, and quickly."
Gil Grissom walked into the room without any pleasantries, knowing there was no time for it. "Let's get to work."
Without a backward glance he left the room, knowing full well that his small hard-working team would follow. Separating into two company vehicles - Sara and Grissom in one Tahoe, Nick, Warrick and Catherine in the other.
The crime scene was down a quiet street that seemed free of malevolence at first - but the home became apparent within seconds, bathed with hundreds of reporters and flashing lights, beacons for the CSIs.
After parking the vehicles and collecting their field kits the team met Jim Brass, lead Homicide Detective, at the front step after pushing their way through the reporters and ducking under the 'crime scene' tape.
Brass looked less conspicuous then the rest of the team did in their forensic gear, as he was dressed in a dark blue suit with a grey tie. The only giveaway that he was any different from the civilians was the gun in a sling at his side, and the police badge that was fixed to his breast pocket. Its position, Sara presumed, was to save time that would otherwise be spent with the copious badge-flashing that was required to gain access to a crime scene.
"Hey guys," started Detective Brass. "The low-down is that there are five dead – four adults and one teenager. The teenager's upstairs - the others, down. The dining room is a bit of a blood bath, and it looks like the bodies were re-positioned after the event took place. The victims are Frank Gordon, Helena Gordon, Deborah Gordon, Barry Snow and Patricia Snow."
Brass moved slightly out of the way, to allow the CSIs to have full access.
"I'll be sorting out the reporters," the detective informed them. "Page me if I'm required." With that, he turned on his heel and was swallowed by the masses. Grissom began handing out the team's duties.
"Catherine and Warrick, I want you on the outer perimeter. Nick and Sara, you're with me."
Catherine and Warrick nodded, wordlessly separating - one going to the right and the other to the left, cameras and forensic cases in hand. Nick and Sara followed Grissom into the dark house, narrow beams of torchlight to guide them. Sara automatically started breathing through her mouth, the sickeningly heavy and coppery smell of blood almost overwhelming her, coatingher in the stench of death.
Directly to their left was a large living room with heavy red drapes. A large oak storage unit that housed an entertainment system dominated the far side of the room. A coffee table, a lounge suite and two paintings made up the rest of the room. Neighbouring this was the kitchen, a door separating the two areas. The kitchen was a mess, with remains of a dinner. Pots and plates were piled on benches on both sides of the sink, which was also filled with signs of busy living.
"Somebody doesn't believe in washing as they go," Nick murmured in a low voice. Grissom flashed him a look that he seemed to reserve for times like these - when his young CSIs exhibited humour proved too sophomoric for his own personal tastes. Sara followed Nick and Grissom into the dining room, which was directly adjacent to the kitchen. There sat four bodies - two male and two female, surrounded by blood.
"Sara, photos," Grissom cued his colleague, and Sara immediately started clicking away, taking shots of the blood splattered on the walls, table and bookcase. As she was taking the required photos, Sara took in the apparent peacefulness on the victims' faces - almost as if they were only sleeping, and not lying brutally slain.
"They have been posed. The blood-splatter is not just limited to the floor and the table, as you would expect. It's everywhere. There are no defence wounds that I can see on the women but the men look like they put up a bit of a fight."
Grissom nodded as he broke one of his own rules and switched on the dining room light, which the killers had left off. The splatter looked much worse than Sara had initially thought, and she noticed for the first time how covered in blood the table was.
"Their throats were cut." Sara knelt down by one of the female victims and confirmed what she'd seen by the flash of her camera - no wounds whatsoever on the women's hands… nothing.
"We can figure that out later," Grissom concluded. "We need to see our other victim first."
Following him up the stairs directly behind their current crime scene, Sara let her torch guide her as the dining room light became dimmer and dimmer.
At the top of the stairs was a narrow hallway with three doors. One, they soon found out, opened into a spotless bathroom, and another to a linen closest. The third was at the end of the hall, and was decorated with teenage flair. Signs on the door declared, "Parental Units Not Welcomed," and "The Bitch Switch Is On."
Grissom pushed the door open and the three CSIs allowed their torchlight to dance around the room. Grissom switched on the light and they were faced with another deliberately posed body. Lying on the bed, hands across her chest and her feet crossed, was a young lady. The only giveaway that she was dead was the bullet hole that had made an entry just below her hairline. There was blood splatter on the desk that sat in the corner and a little on the wall, which Sara immediately took shots of. She then moved over to the body and started taking pictures of the pose and the wound.
"No defence wounds on this one either," Sarah concluded.
She glanced at Grissom and waited for a comment. She received none. Sara turned her focus back to the body. She had a nagging feeling that she was missing something, and the evasive thought was starting to irritate her. Why did she find the body so familiar? Then her brain clicked into overdrive. That's it! She grabbed Nick's wrist.
"This is the rape victim Catherine and I had a couple of months ago," Sara exclaimed. "Her ex-boyfriend raped her in her own bed."
Grissom came up behind her and confirmed her memory.
"The boyfriend is still on trial, isn't he? Well, they just lost a key witness." Grissom returned to the desk and began rifling through the papers on it.
A loud insistent sound filled the small room, and they all jumped slightly then checked their cell phones. Grissom's was the winner.
"Grissom… Ok, thanks."
Hanging up, he looked at Nick and Sara. "Coroner's here."
Some hours later, Catherine, Warrick, Nick, Sara and Grissom had gathered in the boardroom, back at the lab. Grissom had pinned up pictures of the five victims, with their names and ages across the bottom. Having taken her collected samples to Greg Sanders - the lab technician/wannabe-CSI, Sara was glad to get down to the guts of the investigation.
"So we have five victims," Grissom surmised. "The interviews that Brass did showed that the two couples were very good friends who met for dinner once a week. The Snows had no children and Helena was the Gordon's only child. There was no forced entry that could be found and the bodies were very obviously posed. There were no weapons found at the scene, or around it, but there were definitely two weapons used." He pointed to the photo of Helen's body.
Nick shook his head. "Why use two weapons? Isn't that a waste of energy and effort on the killer's part? I mean, correct me if I'm wrong, but guns seem to be easier for the job. Slitting someone's throat takes a lot of effort, and it means having to get very close to the victim."
Catherine shook her head at Nick. "It would make sense if there was more than one killer. Warrick and I found numerous footprints going to and from the house, and judging by the lack of defence wounds on the women, my guess is that they were killed first. But then that begs the question of what Helena was doing at the time. The men fought back, so surely there would have been some noise. I don't know about you, but if I heard uproar in my house, I would go and investigate."
Grissom nodded his agreement with Catherine.
"Good point," he said, "but we need to follow what we are here to follow. The evidence is pointing to the most obvious suspect we have… Helena's ex-boyfriend and rapist, even though he is in prison. He still has friends on the outside, or he could have even made some on the inside, with connections who could rid him of his problem. So we need to gather all the information we can about this case. Sara and Cath, I need you to go and dig up the old file and go over it the same way you would a crime scene - no clue too small or too insignificant."
He pointed at Warrick and Nick. "You two need to head over to Greg's and see what he's pulled up." Grissom then sat back and watched as his team dispersed, and rubbed his eyes, knowing what this case would mean. Long hours and overtime.
After inspecting with Catherine the case file of Helena's rape for over two hours, Sara decided to hunt down Grissom to see what he had found out, and to share her own information. She found him in one of the empty interview rooms, and paused to quietly watch as he focused with his normal intensity, blind to anything not relating to his current obsession.
He only looked up when Sara cleared her throat, startling him out of his thoughts. Sara smothered a smile that threatened her when she saw the smudge of icing sugar above his lip. She leaned over and snapped up the napkin that sat beside him, and gently wiped away the white powder.
Grissom looked slightly taken aback, then his business mode kicked in.
"Nothing new on this front I'm afraid. No new leads as of yet."
Grissom watched as Sara took a seat across from him and snagged one of the doughnuts in the middle of the table. She looked tired, he noted to himself distractedly.
Sara looked over the pictures that were still pinned to the board on the far side of the room, the wheels turning in her head.
"Helena's rapist has yet to complete his trial - it got halted because new evidence came forward… from the neighbour." Sara stood up, walked over to the board, and picked up the black whiteboard maker that was connected by a fixed magnet.
Grissom sat back, hands prayer-style, and watched while Sara made the connections, still after all these years admiring how the young woman's mind worked.
"According to the report," Sarah was continuing, "the neighbour was threatened by the ex-boyfriend's goons, but the guilt must have gotten to her because two weeks later she walked into the police station and spilled the whole story. So that connects the families - which means that we have a motive… a decent one." She looked at Grissom with a small smile and sat back down in her seat. "So we have made a connection of some sort, but we need to fatten it out a little - gather a bit more evidence that can support this theory." Sara had picked up her doughnut again and was picking at it when another idea occurred to her. "So let's just say that he killed the girl and the neighbours, or some goon did, but why the parents? And why the two weapons? It could have been just as effective if they had just shot them all, or set the house on fire. He could have made it look like an accident, not that that would have hidden the evidence of course."
Grissom shrugged his shoulders. "Why kill at all?"
Sara went back to nibbling her doughnut. The blood analyses that they had gotten back from Greg didn't match the ones from the rapist or his friends that were with him at the time of the attack - nor did it match anything that they had on their computer records. But at least now they had a motive. They just needed to connect the dots.
Grissom wiped his hands on another napkin beside him. "I'm going to go and find Catherine, and see what Doc has for us. Are you ok being left to track these guys down for interviews?" He indicated the pictures of the youths on the table.
Sara nodded. "No problem."
Sara had taken out her cell phone and was dialling Brass's number before Grissom had even left the room.
Grissom and Catherine walked in comfortable silence, Catherine's flats making a dull thunking sound as the pair made their way to the morgue. Catherine pushed open the swing-door, the cooler air of the clinical room a refreshing change as they moved into Doc Robbins' domain. The balding, chubby cheeked coroner was the best part of the night shift team. His quick eyes missed nothing and despite using a crutch, he moved with an agility of a dancer.
"Find anything?"
Doc Robbins smiled and without looking up responded in his usual humour. "Grissom, Catherine - you're early".
Grissom glanced at Catherine, who was smiling despite herself, and proceeded to put on the blue scrubs that they were required to wear to preserve the evidence. As he moved in for a closer look at the body that Doc was working on, he noticed that the death wounds look more pronounced now that each victim was on their back.
"Patricia Snow - cause of death was a large wound across the neck. Now, the death was quick and violent - the cut was so deep that you can see part of the spine, but I can tell you that your killer was left-handed, judging by the depth of the cut from side to side." Doc moved Patricia's head to the side slightly, allowing both Grissom and Catherine a better look. "See how the depth varies?"
Catherine nodded and watched as Doc moved further down the side of the body. He lifted up the left arm. "Now, there are absolutely no visible defence wounds, so I am going to make a tentative guess and say that she may have been the first victim. Now her husband here…" He turned and indicated to the body along side Patricia, "…Barry Snow, has some definite signs of defence."
He lifted the man's right arm, pointing to the cuts and abrasions on the inside, and the bloody and skinned knuckles on the out. "This gentleman did fight pretty hard, and it looks like he got a few good hits in before he went down. I sent some of the blood on the knuckles to be traced, so they may be able to identify another donor hopefully."
He moved to the next two slabs, which contained the bodies of Frank and Deborah Gordon. He lifted up the woman's left arm. "Now, once again no defence wounds on the women but both of the men have the same kinds of wounds. So as far as my findings are concerned, the women were killed first, then the men after a struggle."
Grissom was examining the man's right hand. "The marks are almost identical."
Catherine had moved to Doc's side, where she took the notes that he handed to her. "The times of death of the women were close," he was still reporting, "with only a minute or so between them, while the men died up to five minutes later."
Catherine had moved onto the body of Helena, the daughter. Doc followed, pulling the white sheet to her lower neck as he continued, "Helena here died thanks to a gunshot wound to the forehead, which, as you can see, exited the back quite violently. Now, there are no defence wounds, and there is no evidence of bruising to coincide with any kind of sexual assault but I still sent off some swabs."
Catherine was nodding and heading out the door before Doc could finish. "Thanks Doc, page if you find anything else!"
Doc nodded and yelled back, "Will do!" He smiled as Grissom shrugged and followed Catherine out the door.
Grissom went to find Sara to see how she had gotten on with getting interviews with the suspects of the rape. He found her in one of the empty interview rooms. He stood and watched her for a moment through the slate glass window, as she pushed a lock of rich brown ever-so-slightly wavy hair absent-mindedly behind her ear, while tapping the top of her pen on her front teeth. She looked pale and exhausted. Knocking lightly, he entered the room, and watched as Sara gave a jolt, looking panicked.
"It's just me. Sorry, I didn't mean to give you a fright."
Sara shook her head. "You didn't, I was just thinking."
She let her eyes wander back to the paper in front of her, not looking up as Grissom sat next to her. "I called Brass, and you'll never guess what I found out."
Not looking up to meet his gaze, she pushed a piece of paper in front of Grissom - one that was covered in her familiar rounded scrawl.
"Helena's rapist, Stevie Grant, is out on bail. Has been for a number of weeks now. But he still claims that the sex was entirely consensual, which I personally find hard to believe." She took out the report they had compiled when Helena was first raped. "A problem Cath and I had with this case was the fact that 3 sets of DNA came back with the rape kit - Stevie Grant, Brian Keyes and Jake Hale. Now, as was expected, they all denied the charges against them, even though there was tearing and bruising evident to say otherwise. We never got any sort of confession or any of them dobbing another in."
Sara sat back heavily in her chair, the small explanation seeming to take what little energy she had left away. Now that she was leaning back slightly, Grissom could get a better look at her face and was shocked by how unobservant he had been just hours earlier. She looked incredibly pale, and her face looked sunken - black bags hung under her once lively eyes, which were now dull and rather glazed. Grissom was about to ask what was up when Brass walked in with Stevie Grant.
Sara looked at Brass, raising an eyebrow. "Lawyer?"
Brass shrugged. "Claims he has nothing to hide and that he is innocent."
Brass left them to it, watching through the thick glass on the other side of the door.
"What have you guys got to accuse me of this time?" Stevie looked at Grissom then at Sara with cold watery blue eyes, his lank blonde hair hanging in his eyes.
"Helena and her family were killed."
Stevie's face fell completely, all colour dropped from his face.
"I didn't do it, if that is what you're thinking. I never raped her either."
Grissom sat back and crossed his arms, settling in for a long stay.
Two hours later, he and Sara exited the interview room none the wiser, their ears still ringing with the denial that Stevie kept throwing their way. Heading for the break room to grab a quick coffee, they found the rest of the team there already, sipping from Starbucks styrofoam cups. Catherine spotted them first and picked up two cups still in the carrier, handing them each one.
"Grissom, long black, Sara, vanilla espresso."
Sara wrapped her hands around the cup, inhaling the scent of the coffee deeply as she sat down next to Grissom, exhausted. She had had so much trouble sleeping recently, not feeling safe enough in her home to do so, and she could see how it was effecting everything she was doing. Attentions from a malevolent admirer had left her feeling unbalanced and unfocused. Sara didn't want to say anything to anyone in case it was nothing and it was all in her head. She had a tendancy to overthink somethings. And for all she knew, this could be one of those times.
She focused again on her co-workers, wishing that she could talk to one of them, any of them. But she always stopped herself when she had finally worked up the courage, saying she was being foolish, and that they all properly had enough of their own problems without her adding her own.
Catherine was an ex-stripper, mother, and recent widow. Warrick was an ex-gambler and she knew that everyday was a new struggle for him – Sara herself was battling her addiction to alcohol and it was harder then anyone could have ever prepared her for. Nick was a bit of a ladies' man and never seemed very available, and Grissom… well, Grissom was Grissom - anything outside of science and bugs made the man wonder, as though he could hardly believe that he was part of the human society.
Sara sighed and leaned her head on the back of the couch, closing her eyes and trying to relax the muscles that had been tense for the last couple of months.
It wasn't until she felt someone shake her shoulder and call her name that Sara realized she had fallen asleep. Sitting up quickly, she was faced with a very concerned looking Warrick, and looking around the room she realized that everybody else had left.
"Grissom said to leave you for a bit, but something has come up," Warrick said.
Sara stood and stretched, wincing when she discovered the twinge in her neck. "So what's up?" She followed Warrick sleepily down the corridor to Grissom's office.
"Doc got some labs back that show that Helena had sex the night of the killings."
Sara slowly started to wake up, consciousness seeping into her tired brain.
"That's very interesting. Did they identify the sperm found?"
Before Warrick could answer, they had arrived at Grissom's door. Warrick opened it, allowing Sara to enter first.
"What's happening, Grissom?"
Grissom looked up and indicated the seats in front of him. Sara sat, as did Warrick, and they both watched as Grissom flicked through the file in front of him.
"Doc did some vaginal swabs on Helena and found different DNA." He dropped a picture in front of Sara. "Brian Keyes, Steve's best friend." Sara smiled a little. "Ok, looks like there was a love triangle going on there."
Grissom shook his head. "Try a square. Jake Hale was there as well."
Sara's mouth dropped a little. "She had sex with three guys the same night she was murdered? Does anyone else find that kind of, well, wrong? I mean, sleeping with three guys in one night? Where were her parents? They were in the same house - how they could not see this is beyond me."
Grissom cocked his head slightly to the side, looking at her in the same way that Sara had seen him looking at his bugs or at suspects, and she could almost see the wheels turning in the older man's head. Sara tried to ignore him, even though she could feel his eyes on her when she moved her head, feel them burning into her brain, as though he was a superhero and he was using his powers to read her mind. Sara wanted to make him stop, wanted to get the attention away from her and back to the case before he figured out something was wrong with her.
Sara pulled the folder in front of Grissom towards her, scanning the information and test results. "It's a shame that they all happened to forget to mention this to us in the interviews." She folded her arms over her chest, hoping that Grissom's brain would click back to the case.
"Yeah well, Cath and Nick are going over the new information with the suspects now - hopefully they will be completely honest this time around."
Sara nodded and started to stand, before Warrick's hand on her wrist made her pause.
"We need to ask you something."
Warrick's voice was tight, making Sara sit back in her seat, looking back and forth between both Grissom and Warrick.
"What?"
She waited, while both Grissom and Warrick examined her, making her feel trapped and claustrophobic.
"Sara, are you drinking again?"
Grissom's voice was stern, and Warrick's face concerned, as they sat and waited for her response.
"No. What the hell is going on here?" Sara's throat felt tight, her chest burnt and her feelings were hurt. "Why would you say that?"
"You've been tired, you're not focused, you seem almost dazed and you fall asleep in the middle of one of the biggest cases of your career. If it's not drink then what is it?"
Sara opened her mouth to speak, but Warrick beat her to it.
"We just want to help."
Sara turned her fury on Warrick and Grissom.
"What the hell do you mean, that you 'just want to help'? I have been this way for over two months and just now you notice that something is up! Here's a helpful hint for both of you, Grissom get your head out of your bugs and start paying attention to the real world. You know, the one that you withdraw from? The one you hide from with facts and statistics that are nothing to do with anyone except you! And Warrick, move on! I know that you were addicted to gambling and I know how hard it is to get your life back, but man, oh, man, are you taking your time! Stop playing the wounded hero and start living again. And Grissom, here's a fact you can use- I'm not drinking again. I've been sober for 2 months now. I haven't even walked past a bar, and I have no alcohol in my home."
Sara brushed past Warrick, the brief physical contact made her bristle with more anger, heading for the door before pausing. "Check your facts before you put your noses in next time. You don't know how wrong you are."
She swung open the door, feeling a little better when she heard it slam against the wall behind it, and headed for the locker room. Maybe it was because she was upset, but the silence that followed her show of emotion was deafening.
How dare they shove their noses into her business like that? Insulting her before she even had a chance to defend herself?
Wave after wave of anger washed over Sara, as hot angry tears made their way steadily down her cheeks. Thankfully, the locker room was empty and Sara quickly changed from her work clothes to her more casual jeans, turtleneck and her faux fur lined coat, then pulling out her cell phone she called Grissom's cell.
"I'm going home now".
She hung up before he had a chance to say anything beyond his name, then grabbing her backpack, she headed for the building's exit, grateful not to run into any of the team.
The sun was cold and bright as Sara headed for her car, which was tucked into the corner of the parking lot. The traffic was quite light, and she was home without even realizing it, her body and mind on autopilot. She took her apartment steps slowly, one at a time, her fear making her heart race, all her anger at Grissom and Warrick forgotten as she saw what she was dreading to see…
The single, blood red rose was taped to her door, along with a note, with the small label "Sara". Breathing quickly, she removed a pair of latex gloves from her pocket, and putting them on, she tried to calm herself. With shaking hands she removed the note and the rose from the door, then unlocking her front door she slipped quickly inside, locked it, then looked around her apartment.
A couple of years ago, her team had investigated a case where the victim not only looked uncannily like Sara but lived like her too. The victim was a bit of a homebody, who ordered out of catalogues and ate a lot of takeaway. Since then, Sara had made an effort to change her habits and her living conditions. She now had photos dotted around the apartment of her family, her workmates, and photos of her as a child. Sitting in the corner was a plant Grissom had given her quite a while ago accompanied by a few others. Plus, she had just brought some new furniture, so now her apartment felt more like a home, not just a place to sleep until work found her at the office again.
Sara sunk slowly to the floor, still leaning on the door. She opened the envelope slowly and carefully, removing a thin piece of paper hidden within.
Dear Sara,
The time is drawing closer to us being together. It is almost time for us to make our lives together. I know you're as desperate as me, but we must wait, my love. All in good time, my love, all in good time.
The neatly typed piece of paper was now wet with Sara's tears. She stood and put the rose and letter with the others she had been given, after first putting it into a zip-lock bag, dating and labelling it.
She poured herself a glass of water, wishing it was something stronger, then moved over to her sofa and sat heavily, trying to calm her nerves. She found the remote for her stereo and pressed 'play' - soon the bass of her Dido CD filled the room.
Needing a distraction, Sara moved back into the kitchen where she started making scrambled eggs, singing along to the music as she went.
If you won't let me fall for you,
Then you won't see the best thing I would love to do for you
Instead, you will be missing me when I go,
Cause I'm bored of hanging out in your cold.
She wasn't even hungry, and she most certainly did not want to be back in the place where she felt most vulnerable, but her temper had gotten the best of her and now she had paid the price, with neither Grissom nor Warrick too happy with her right now. The insults that she had yelled at them now made her cheeks flush slightly with embarrassment.
She sat down at the dining room table picking at her eggs, sipping her cup of coffee, and feeling slightly ill. A sudden knock on the door made her jump and drop the coffee mug on the floor, shattering it.
"Damn it," she muttered under her breath. "Hold on, I'll be right there."
She quickly turned down the music and looked through her peephole, unlocked the door, and swung it open.
"Warrick? What, come here to check out my breath and fridge? Oh, and don't forget to check the cupboards too, behind the bags of corn chips, cookies and pasta bottles - we alcoholics are sneaky."
Her voice dripped with cold sarcasm as she turned her back on him and started cleaning up the coffee mess. She heard Warrick shut the door behind him and watched as he grabbed the paper towels on her bench and started helping her clean up.
"We are worried about you, that's all. Grissom called your cellphone before but just got your machine. And while we're on the topic, what the hell were you thinking, yelling at Grissom and me like that? Are you trying to get fired, or demoted? Because unless you have a good explination that's exactly what will happen!"
Song: Have a little faith – Mandy Moore.