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Chapter Ten

Grissom signed into the reception book, logging his time onto shift – 6pm. He'd slept for eight hours straight, which he was surprised about, normally being such a light sleeper, but the past few days had exhausted him, physically and emotionally. He'd dreamt about Sara, but it wasn't a fantasy this time, he had simply remembered how wonderful she had been when they had been together. But he had been pained to wake without her, and after several cups of coffee and slices of toast, he'd come into work.

He passed Catherine in the corridor, but she had blanked him, and he felt slightly relieved. He didn't want to argue, or have any conflict, he just wanted to do his job, and sort things out with Sara. With sleep, had come clarity, and he knew that he needed to talk to Sara, explain the situation they were now in – he wanted to be with her, desperately, whether they made that public in the lab would have to be a decision they made together, but he couldn't live without her beside him now. He had to tell her he'd fallen in love with her, and he needed to apologize for his coldness earlier.

Spotting Sara in the evidence room, he made his way in and she turned to look as the door opened. He smiled at her warmly, and she smiled back.

"How's it going?" He asked.

She had victim no.3's towel spread out on the table, with a flashlight attached to an orange plastic shield in her hand, she was searching for traces of semen or blood, or anything. "I interviewed the neighbor from victim one, but came up blank."

"Did you not think to call me?" Grissom felt a little hurt that she'd gone on without him, not only the fact he was her supervisor, but because they were working this together, weren't they?

"You weren't here."

Her response didn't suffice, but he left it drop. "Anything else?"

"Blue fiber from vic. two was cotton, could be anything. Red fiber from vic. three was also cotton."

"Maybe whatever the killer was wearing at the time. If that's the case, we could rule out someone in a uniform, as the fibers were different colors."

Sara smiled at him, and Grissom took the chance to look at her properly. She looked pale, dark circles under her eyes. She hadn't changed her clothes for days. Concern filled Grissom's body as he watched her, holding herself up with one hand leant on the table. She looked as though she may break on the spot.

"I went back to the first scene; I interviewed the neighbor on the other side. Another male, his name was Frank, he said he works nights, and I checked his alibi with his work, it all checks out."

"You went back to a scene without my permission?" Grissom frowned.

She stared at him, silent.

"Did you take Brass or an officer with you?"

"No. It was just an informal enquiry, there was no reason to suspect him, I just wanted to see if he had heard anything."

"When we have no suspects, Sara, everyone is a damn suspect!" Grissom exclaimed, "Do you have any idea what kind of danger you put yourself in?"

"I can handle myself, Grissom." She replied sharply.

"It's nothing to do with you being able to 'handle yourself', you could have put yourself in direct contact with the killer, and without anyone there…"

"I have a gun."

"This man has over-powered three women, without them even getting a punch in, Sara; do you really think that a gun would have helped when he had your hands around your throat?"

"You're being ridiculous, Grissom."

"I'm being ridiculous?" he asked, incredulous. "You're the one that's become obsessed. You look fucking dreadful; you haven't been home for days."

"Actually I have been home. Do you remember? When we went back to my apartment and had sex? You act like it never happened! What was it, Grissom? Was a just a quick fuck you fancied as a one-off? Did it mean anythingto you?" Sara was becoming louder with every word and Grissom turned around to the corridor to see if anyone may have walked past and heard her shouting. "Oh, yeah, don't worry about me, just making sure no one knows what kind of man you are. Do you do this with anyone else?"

"I think you should go home, Sara." Grissom lowered his voice, hoping to calm her.

"Why should I leave my case?" she spat.

"Because you're not only putting yourself in danger, your behavior is an embarrassment to the lab!"

"Oh, and yours isn't?" She pushed past him roughly, leaving the evidence room.

Grissom watched as she shakily made her way down the corridor and out of the building. He ran his fingers through his hair, turning his attention to the whiteboard - Sara's writing on it had become a jumble of scribbles, words overlapping each other; he could barely make out what was written. He knew he couldn't take this case alone, it was too much. Leaving the evidence room, he went in search of Catherine.

Finding her in the break room, her hands clasping a cup of tea as she watched the television in a corner of the room, Grissom went and sat down next to her. "I need your help." He said.

She turned to look at him, confused. "I thought you had the wonderful Sara Sidle."

"She's off the case." He replied.

"Why?"

"She needed to go home." Grissom hoped Catherine would leave his explanation as that, and she did, rising from her seat. They both made their way to the evidence room as Grissom explained the case so far.

Four hours later Nick and Warrick had joined Grissom and Catherine in the evidence room. Grissom had brought in another whiteboard, so as not to ruin Sara's, and Nick was writing on it as ideas were shared between the team. Catherine had explained to Nick and Warrick that Sara had gone home sick, which was a relief for Grissom not to have to explain, or rather lie, but he knew he'd have to tell Catherine everything sooner or later.

"We've ruled out neighbors from victim one?" Nick asked.

"Not necessarily Mark Harvey, he doesn't have a concrete alibi for any of the murders, and Brass said he seemed as though he may have a screw loose."

Nick wrote Mark Harvey on the whiteboard, "Can we think of anyone else?"

"Apart from the M.O these women have absolutely nothing in common with each other." Catherine explained, sitting at the table, the case files on her knee.

Grissom stared into his cup of tea - he hated tea, but Catherine had told him it would make him feel better. He didn't think he could feel much worse. He was angry with Sara for putting herself in danger, he was angry at himself for not being there for her, he felt regretful that things had turned out this way between them, he could barely think about the case.

"Grissom?" Nick turned from the whiteboard, marker pen in his hand, up against the board, ready to write. "Any thoughts?"

Grissom looked up, but it was like he wasn't really there, he couldn't make a mental connection with any of it.

"I think you need to go home, Gil." Catherine placed her hand on his shoulder with one hand, the other hand taking the cup of tea from his grasp.

He nodded silently, but looked at her concerned, would they be able to work on the case without him or Sara there?

"We can manage; we've got all yours notes, all your photos. I think we're going to focus on this Mark Harvey guy, see if he'll come in for questioning again. Maybe with someone level-headed interviewing him, we'll get something from him."

Grissom nodded again. He hated that he was leaving them to it, but he needed to be at home, watching rubbish television, or reading a novel - something to rid Sara from his mind. After signing out of shift, he made his way out into the parking lot, and slid the car key into the lock. Starting the engine, Grissom felt tears sting his eyes. He had only ever wanted to hold her, kiss her, make her safe, make her happy - he'd never meant to hurt her. He blinked his tears away, and taking a deep breath, he drove home.