AN: Everything comes to light, so far anyways.

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI. If I did, there would be massive changes.

Summary: While processing a scene, the CSIs discover an entirely new case, a case that becomes more personal than any of them could ever have dreamed.

Chapter 10:

The Revelation

Catherine found him leaning against his Denali, staring at nothing in particular. He looked so lost, so alone.

"Gil?" she said softly as she approached him. He looked up in recognition.

"Hey," he mumbled, meeting her in the eyes.

"I have good news," she started.

"Milton did it," he stated. It was not a question, but a fact.

"So far all of the evidence points in his direction," she confirmed. He nodded, and Catherine swore that she saw the ghost of a smile.

"Good," he said, looking back at his feet. She gave him a moment's silence before she felt she had to say something.

"I know that it hurts, Gil," she stated. His head snapped up so that he could look her in the eye. Anyone else, and he would have walked away from them, but the truth was, Catherine did understand what he was going through. She had lost her ex-husband, a man that she once loved, almost four years ago. She knew much better than he did of the feelings he was not used to feeling.

"A little bit," he acknowledged, and then after a moment, he said, "It's strange. I hardly even knew her, but I feel…" he trailed off.

"Like you could have cared about her?" she finished.

"Yeah, but mostly, I…I feel…responsible," he admitted, looking at the ground again.

"It's not your fault," Catherine immediately told him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. He didn't look at her.

"She was coming to see me," he mumbled thickly.

"Because she had cancer and wanted someone that she could count on to take care of Dylan," Catherine countered, "She knew that she could count on you, and she was right."

"How do you figure?" he asked, looking at her once more.

"Because I know you and I know that you will do what's best for that little boy," she explained. There was nothing but sincerity in her eyes as she said these words, and that alone, made him feel one-hundred percent better.

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

"When all you've got to keep is strong, move along, move along, like I know you do," Greg sang, "And even when your hope is gone, move along, move along, just to make it through."

Dylan was sitting on Greg's lap, listening as his new babysitter sang to him. He didn't know the song, but he liked the way that Greg sang it.

"All American Rejects?" Sara questioned from the doorway. Both Greg and Dylan looked up to find Sara, Nick, and Warrick assembled there.

"It's inspirational," Greg shrugged.

"How that little guy can stand your singing is beyond me," Nick commented, moving to grab his lunch from the fridge.

"Hey!" Greg protested, "He likes it, don't you, Dill?"

"Yeah," Dylan said softly and nodded. He buried his head closer to Greg's chest.

"Crazy kid," Nick muttered, placing his burrito in the microwave.

"You playing shy again, pal?" Warrick asked, sitting beside Greg and Dylan. Dylan shook his head.

"He's a little wore out. Misses his mom," Greg explained. Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at him. While Greg meant well, he had a tendency to say the wrong thing at the wrong time.

"Greg, you didn't tell him what happened, did you?" Sara asked.

"Of course not," Greg said, "I just told him that we were supposed to watch him."

"Good," Warrick breathed. Just then, there was a knock on the door. They looked up and saw a woman in her mid to late thirties standing there.

"Hello," Nick greeted from his position at the microwave, "Can we help you?"

"I'm sorry to interrupt," she started, "But I'm Linda Turner. I'm a social worker. I'm here to pick up Dylan Woods and drive him to Phoenix to be with a friend of his mother's," she explained, stepping forwards to shake Warrick's outstretched hand.

"I'm Warrick Brown. You'll have to pardon me, Ms. Turner, but I have no knowledge that Dylan is supposed to go anywhere," he told her.

"Detective Brass spoke to Colleen Bow about the matter," she explained.

"I'm going to just give him a call," Warrick said, stepping out of the room.

"Just don't want to get in trouble," Nick shrugged, vouching for his friend.

"It's understandable. We all just want to ensure that the child is safe," Ms. Turner said. She remained planted where she had walked in, and had crossed her arms over her chest. She reminded Greg of a strict schoolteacher he had had when he was younger. He instinctively held Dylan a little closer. Nick and Sara stayed silent as well. Nick had retrieved his food and set it on the counter, but hadn't eaten anything. Sara was sitting at the table staring at her hands. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of awkward silence, Warrick reappeared.

"I spoke to Brass," he announced, "Dylan is supposed to go with Ms. Turner and she will drive him to Phoenix," he explained.

"Well, I guess that's it then," Greg sighed, standing up with Dylan in his arms, "Should we wait for Griss and Catherine?" he asked.

"I want to get on the road before dark," Ms. Turner prompted.

"Alright, then," Nick shrugged, "I guess this is it, Dylan," he said, coming up beside Greg to say goodbye to the toddler.

"What's goin' on?" Dylan asked, worriedly.

"You're gonna go with this nice lady and she'll take you to see a friend of your mom's," Warrick explained.

"No!" Dylan protested, latching onto Greg tighter.

"Come on, Dill, let go, now," Greg gently tried to pry the child from his neck.

"No!" Dylan fought back, "I don't wanna go!"

"Here," Ms. Turner said impatiently, stepping up to Greg and helping him get Dylan under control. Soon, the little boy was screaming in the social worker's arms.

"NO!" he cried.

"It'll be okay, Dylan," Sara whispered.

"NO!"

"Quit that, now, Dylan," Ms. Turner ordered firmly. Arms flailing, Dylan still cried out.

"NO! NO! NO!" he screamed.

"What's going on here?" everyone in the room turned to the doorway of the break room to find Grissom and Catherine standing there.

"What's going on?" Grissom asked again, his eyes focused on the screaming child.

"I'm Linda Turner," she started.

"She's here to take Dylan back to Phoenix. We called Brass to confirm," Warrick explained. Grissom looked stunned for a moment. He hadn't been expecting something like this. Thankfully, Catherine stepped up.

"Where is he to live in Phoenix?" she asked.

"Colleen Bow, a friend of Ms. Woods, has volunteered to raise him," Ms. Turner said as she tried to control the little boy.

"No," Grissom spoke up after a moment. Everyone stared at him.

"Excuse me, sir?" Ms. Turner asked, eyeing him.

"He's not going to Phoenix," Grissom said with more conviction. Nick, Sara, Warrick, and Greg gapped at him. Ms. Turner glared at him. Catherine grinned.

"Who are you to decide that? Arrangements have been made-"

"I'm his father," Grissom stated, not looking at her, but staring evenly at the little boy in her arms.

"WHAT?" four voices echoed.

"If anyone is going to raise my son, it's going to be me," Grissom said firmly, ignoring his stunned colleagues.

"W-What proof do you have of this?" Ms. Turner faltered.

"I tested my DNA against Dylan's. I'm his father," he said, "If you want, I can give another sample of my DNA to show that I am Dylan's father."

"Please do," Ms. Turner requested.

"Fine," he responded, "Catherine?" he asked.

"I'll go get a swab from Wendy," she offered, still smiling at him as she left. Grissom looked to his colleagues and saw their stunned looks. Greg's eyes were as big as saucers. Nick's jaw was practically hitting the floor. Warrick was looking as if he were seeing his boss for the first time. Sara was looking at him in hurt and confusion. He'd have some explaining to do later.

"Don't wanna go!" Dylan carried on, struggling against the social worker.

"You aren't going anywhere Dylan," Grissom assured him.

"Gil!" Dylan called, holding his arms out to Grissom. Grissom exhaled and then stepped up to Ms. Turner.

"Perhaps he would calm down if I held him," he suggested, picking Dylan out of her arms. Dylan was much happier in Grissom's now familiar hold. Soon, the little boy was subdued in his father's arms. Catherine returned to find father and son together.

"You know the drill, Gil," she said. He nodded and opened his mouth, so that she could swab it.

"Thanks, Cath," he mumbled after she finished. She smiled at him.

"I'll get this back to Wendy," Catherine offered. She exited the room, while Gil crossed it so that he and Dylan could sit on the couch.

"I'm going to call Detective Brass," Ms. Turner said as she moved to the hallway.

"Alright, what the heck is going on here?" Warrick asked as soon as the social worker left the room.

"Explain, Boss," Nick requested, totally forgetting his burrito.

"Okay," Grissom breathed, somewhat nervously, "Five years ago, I met Vanessa Woods at a conference. We got to talking and we had a one night thing," he explained.

"And conceived Junior, apparently!" Greg exclaimed.

"Griss, do we need to give you "the talk"?" Nick asked, causing Grissom to roll his eyes.

"Ya know, I agree with Nick," Warrick said, "You ALWAYS use safe-sex in a one night stand."

"And sometimes you do everything right, and you still get a surprise five years later," Grissom said hotly, defending himself.

"How long have you known about this?" Sara asked, finally mustering up the nerve. He stared into her accusing eyes and answered her question.

"I suspected it ever since I found out who Dylan's mother was," he admitted, "I got Catherine to take a sample of my DNA for comparison."

"You and her both knew and you didn't tell us?" Sara then questioned, feeling more and more incensed.

"It's not like we had much of a choice," he sighed. Sara bit back her lower lip. He felt guilty somehow.

"When he suspected that he was Dylan's father, we didn't have Milton as a suspect," Catherine added from the doorway, "I convinced him not to say anything until we knew for sure. He could have lost his job, otherwise."

"You were looking out for him?" Nick asked.

"Somebody has to," she shrugged.

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

No one said a word for a really long time. Even Dylan was rather subdued when Brass walked in.

"Gil, can I talk to you?" he asked from the doorway. Ms. Turner looked rather smug as he stood there. Grissom nodded and gently placed Dylan on the couch, where the little boy immediately crawled over Greg so that he was in between the spiky-haired man and Catherine. He knew that Greg and Catherine wouldn't let that mean lady take him anywhere.

"What do you need, Jim?" Grissom asked as he and Brass moved into the hall.

"Ms. Turner told me over the phone that you said that you were Dylan's father," Brass said, and when he received no response, he added, "Are you?"

"Yes, I am," Grissom responded.

"Hell of a bomb to drop, there, Gil," Brass whistled.

"I can relate," Grissom admitted. Brass looked a little closer at his friend. He looked tired.

"Are you going to be okay?" he asked.

"I'll be fine," Grissom assured him.

"Are you sure?" Brass questioned, "You're going from bachelor to single-dad."

"I'll deal with it. It's what Vanessa would have wanted," Grissom said, looking down as he said her name. Brass smiled sympathetically.

"If you need anything, give me a call," Brass told him. Grissom smiled and then Brass grinned and asked, "Do you think I could get my badge back?"

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

It did not take long for Wendy to process the samples from Grissom and Dylan. After an hour and a half of sitting awkwardly in the break room, everyone, including Brass and Ms. Turner, looked up at Wendy.

"Is he the boy's father?" Ms. Turner asked, pointing to Grissom, who was sitting on the couch with Dylan resting contently in his arms. Wendy stared awkwardly at her boss for a moment before she answered.

"Mr. Grissom is Dylan's biological father."

"And you are going to raise him?" Ms. Turner asked Gil, not missing a beat.

"Absolutely," Grissom answered without hesitation. Every time that he said that he was going to raise Dylan, he felt more and more at ease doing it.

"Alright then, I am going to need to make sure that your home is suitable for a child," she announced.

"Okay," Grissom shrugged.

"A week from now, I will be visiting your home, Mr. Grissom, to ensure that it is safe for Dylan," she continued. He gazed up at her and grinned angelically.

"I'll be looking forward to it," he replied. Then she left.

"Finally!" Nick exclaimed, diving into his cold burrito. He had not felt comfortable eating while that Turner lady was in the room.

"Don't choke, Nicky," Catherine warned, grinning amusedly at her friend.

"So what are you going to do now, Griss?" Warrick asked, standing up to stretch his legs.

"I don't know," he admitted, "I barely know where to start."

"Go shopping," Catherine advised, "You want to start by making a home for Dylan. The best way is to get him some stuff that he's familiar with."

"You're right," Grissom replied, "I'm going to need to get Dylan clothes and toys and everything. Could you watch him while I get my coat?" he asked, gesturing to his son, who was busy showing Greg his truck.

"Sure," Warrick grinned, "Its probably easier than watching Greg."

Grissom grinned and left the room.

"I'll be back," Sara told them as she followed him down the hall. Warrick and Nick looked confused, while Catherine and Greg looked on knowingly.

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

"Quite the shock," Sara commented as she leaned on the doorframe to his office, surprising Grissom slightly.

"I know," was all he said. He did not meet her eyes.

"You could have told me," Sara accused, "Or…or…at least clued me in."

"Why is it such a big deal?" he asked, a little confused, as he took a step towards her.

"You don't trust me," she said, pursing her lips. He shook his head.

"You know I do," he contradicted her. She raised her eyebrows.

"Right. It shows," she said scathingly, "Have a good day. I'm going home. Gotta check the mail at the apartment," she told him. She left the room, leaving him staring fixedly on the spot where she had stood. Even he understood her meaning.

He left his office and locked the door. He made his way back to the break room to where he could see Warrick, Greg, and Nick talking animatedly to Dylan.

"Ready to go, Dylan?" Grissom called as he entered the room. Dylan looked up at his father.

"Where are we goin', Gil?" he asked. Grissom smiled bitterly. This was going to take some getting used to.

"We're going shopping," he answered, holding out a hand, "Should we go?" he asked. Dylan nodded.

"Bye-Bye," he waved to Catherine and the guys as he bounded over and clutched Grissom's hand.

"See you later, kido," Greg waved back, smiling.

"If you need anything, Gil, just call," Catherine told him, "Linds is at school all day."

"Thanks," he responded as he lead Dylan out.

"Some day," Nick commented.

"You said it, Nicky," Warrick agreed as they watched their boss leave with his new son.

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

"Detective Brass, I didn't expect to hear back from you so soon," Colleen Bow said into the receiver.

"We actually managed to track down Dylan's biological father," Brass announced, "I just thought that you should know, Ms. Bow."

"You found him? Are you sure?" she asked.

"Yes. We tested his DNA twice," Brass answered.

"Who is he? What is he like?" she questioned, concerned for Dylan's wellbeing.

"He's one of our own CSIs," Brass told her, sighing, "His name is Gil Grissom. Apparently he and Ms. Woods met at a conference a long time ago. He was one of the CSIs that found Dylan in the dumpster."

"And he can take care Dylan? Dylan will okay with him?" she continued to quiz Brass.

"I can assure you that Gil will do whatever it takes to take care of that little boy," he responded in defense of his friend, "He's willing to do whatever it takes to care for his son."

"I'd like to meet him," Ms. Bow requested. She did not sound as if she wanted to see if Grissom was suitable to raise a child. She sounded like she genuinely wanted to meet the father of her best friend's child.

"It could be arranged," Brass told her. She sighed heavily.

"Do you think it would be possible for him to come to Phoenix with Dylan for the funeral? I think it would be appropriate," she asked. Brass, knowing Grissom's reluctance to take time off, smiled.

"He'll be there," he responded, figuring that Gil needed to be there and that he also had to learn to hit the clock-out button, now more than ever. For Dylan.

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

"From now on, it's just going to be you and me, Dylan," Grissom said gently as he and his son walked hand and hand down the mall.

"What about Mommy?" the little boy questioned. Grissom hesitated before he sat himself and Dylan down on the nearest bench.

"Dylan, Mommy…is up in heaven," he started, using the same reasoning that his mother had tried to use when she had been trying to explain to him what had happened to his father. Of course, at nine, he knew that meant that his father had died. Dylan, however, was much too young to understand that. Gil wanted his son to retain that innocence as long as he could.

"Is that far away?" Dylan asked. Gil hesitated again.

"Yes," he answered.

"Will I see her?" Dylan asked worriedly. Gil shut his eyes to think.

"We…we can't see her…but she can see us," he tried, "She's watching over us."

"But I miss her," Dylan protested.

"I know," Gil comforted, "but even though she's not here to take care of you, I am," he told the little boy, "I'm your daddy."

"Daddy?" Dylan asked, curiosity momentarily winning over grief.

"A daddy is like a mommy, only he's a boy," Gil explained.

"Do daddies play?" Dylan quizzed. Gil chuckled.

"They'll try," he answered, still grinning. Dylan's little brow furrowed in thought as he concocted his next question.

"Do they love you like Mommy?"

"Yes, they do," Gil answered immediately.

"You're my daddy?" Dylan tried to comprehend.

"Yes. That's right, Dylan," Gil replied.

"So you love me like Mommy?" Dylan questioned once more.

"Yes, I do, Dylan," Gil assured him. Dylan smiled and asked one more question.

"Do daddies give hugs?"

"Yes, Dylan. They do," Gil replied. He was a little stunned when Dylan latched onto his neck, but relaxed and patted his son on the back as he hugged him back. The passers-by who noticed this display of affection between father and son, smiled and continued on their way.

One man, however, did a double take, then hurried on his way. From his pocket, he took out the photograph that his friend had given him and stared at it. A strawberry-blond woman was holding a small boy in her lap, the same small boy who was on the bench, hugging his father.

The man walked away with purpose glimmering in his cold, grey eyes.

TBC

Reviews? Please? I would like some feedback.