Author's Note: I wrote this last night for a friend of mine and decided to post it here. It goes back and forth between Gil and Heather's thoughts, starting with Heather. The first paragraph is LH's thoughts, then the first line of this scene from 'Pirates of the Third Reich', and moves onto Grissom. Reviews are highly appreciated. :)

I didn't think I would ever have to face Gil Grissom again. But the moment I exited the morgue, there he was. He stood up a little straighter as he saw me, and his eyes locked on mine. I looked away first, unable to look directly at him for too long. Before I cast my glance elsewhere, I noticed that he has a beard now. It suits him, and I can't help but to note that. Everything I am currently experiencing is enough to handle without his mock-pity added to the mix.

"Hi. I'm so sorry about your loss."

She's pale. That's the first thing I noticed. The usual blush on her porcelain cheeks is not present. It has been replaced by a ghostly tone that I do not associate with the woman before me.

"But you need to ask me some questions."

I'm not interested in small talk. He lost that privilege a long time ago. I watch as he knits his brows together in frustration. He's angered by my quick and emotionless response.

"I'd like to know some things about your daughter. When was the last time you saw her?"

This isn't the woman I know. She's not supposed to look sickly, and her voice has never had such a harsh edge. I've already forgotten that she just saw her daughter lying in the morgue. Perhaps that has something to do with the changes I'm noticing.

"She dropped out of school about a year ago. I didn't even know she was in town."

Why does he need to ask these questions now? I don't need or want to be reminded that Zoe was found dead. He doesn't have to remind me; it will forever be running through my mind that my daughter died before I had a chance to apologize to her.

"So you weren't in contact with her?"

Her eyes are glassy, almost as if she's going to cry. I know her enough to realize that she would never do that in front of me, or anyone for that matter. While I understand that she doesn't want to relinquish her power, she has the right to cry if she wants to, given the situation. In the back of my mind I know that she never will.

"No."

I just want him to go back to his job and stop bothering me with these questions. Why can't he take a hint?

"Can you tell me why?"

I was under the impression that she was close to her daughter, but if they weren't speaking I suppose that contradicts what I assumed.

"What difference does it make now?"

Against my will, my voice breaks. I softly clear my throat with hopes that he didn't hear the emotion I am beginning to show. Considering whom he is, I know my thoughts are foolish. He detected the emotions the moment I spoke and I know that.

"Did she have any medical conditions?"

I don't want to ask her these questions. But it's my job. Taking into account our history, I think only person in the lab equipped to deal with anything she may throw my way. At least I hope I can.

"Not that I know of."

It strikes me as pathetic that I don't even know if my daughter had any sort of medical conditions. I was a horrible mother to not know that information about my own daughter.

"Because in November, she participated in a medical study at the Betz Clinic. Right after that, she went missing."

I briefly wonder if the grief-stricken woman I'm stealing glancing at knew her daughter was missing. Perhaps she didn't, if they weren't speaking. It makes sense. That doesn't make it any easier to accept.

"Where was she found?"

The harsh sharpness temporarily disappears from my voice as I lower my guard. Despite the fact that I'm overcome with sorrow, I do have questions I want answered. Why did this happen? How did my daughter go so quickly from the happy teen to murdered young woman?

"In the desert."

I don't know what she's thinking, but I don't want to give her too much information. I'm afraid to arm her with knowledge that could lead to even more trouble.

"Just out in the middle of nowhere?"

Now the edge returns. I realize he's being cautious, but my questions should be answered. My daughter is the one who is dead. The least he can do is truthfully answer my questions the first time I ask them.

"Off highway 55, near Sparks."

I'm trying to figure out why she would want that information. As much as I want to help her with whatever she needs, this isn't what I had in mind. Why would she want to know where Zoe was found? For some reason the pieces aren't fitting together like they should. She looks up at me, her eyes full of distress and I don't know what to do. Just as I'm about to reach out and pull her into my arms, she speaks again.

"I have to go."

I can't be near him right now. I'm too vulnerable and I don't want him or anyone to see that side of me. With my eyes cast downward, I walk straight past him and turn left at the end of the corridor. Thankfully he doesn't follow and I'm alone, exactly the way I want to be.

"Heather…"

She didn't hear the whispering of her name. By the time I said it, she had already walked away. Just as fast as she entered my life for the third time, she's gone, leaving me here with a million thoughts rushing around my head. I'll give her some time and then see if she'll talk to me. The least I can do is offer to spend the afternoon drinking her famous tea and discussing everything. She can't fight fate forever.