Chapter 11 Epiphany

A/N: Thanks for your kind comments! And thanks, as always, to Michele aka griot for the beta work. This story will be updated weekly.

Chapter 11 Epiphany

Once again, Grissom woke up in a cold sweat – a girl's screams reverberating in his head. Shaking, he glanced to his side, relieved to discover that he hadn't woken Sara. She'd been so tired these past weeks. He worried that she'd returned to work too early after her hospital stay.

He reached towards the night table, picking up his phone to check in with the lab. He and Sara had medical reasons to skip extended shifts. The rest of the lab, during a hot case, did not.

"What's happening with the DNA?"

Greg answered, "I've tested the sperm isolated from Carmen twice. It's inconclusive. I'm wondering if there's a contaminant."

"That's odd," Grissom muttered.

"I'm doing what I can to clean up the samples. There's plenty of other evidence that clearly shows Luke was involved – the email containing the alarm code, the tire print of his motorcycle found behind their shed, his fingerprints on the window sill of her bedroom-"

Familiar with these findings, Grissom cut him off. "I know. Thanks Greg. Keep me updated."

He leaned back against the headboard. More complications. Nothing in the case was what it seemed. On the surface, Carmen appeared to be a sheltered fifteen year old girl. When they'd discovered that she'd recently had sex, he and the other investigators had suspected a secret romance.

But why would a girl invite a boy she barely knew to her bedroom for sex only? Why would a girl behave like that? Why wasn't her father more concerned?

Sara stirred. "What's going on?"

"Go back to sleep, hon."

More alert, she sat up. "Are you okay?"

"Just another nightmare."

She moved closer, slinging an arm over him as he leaned toward her. "This isn't good Gil. Maybe you should take the day off."

"With the Sheriff all over the lab? I don't think so."

She was going to think he was crazy but he had to say it. "I need to go back."

Her eyes widened, "What? Why? We've gone over that room several times – what purpose would returning serve? You're also supposed to be keeping a low profile with the Reas family."

"I don't need to talk with them. I just need to spend time in her room." He longed to re-examine the photos on her dresser, to see the books on her shelves - anything to get a better feel for who Carmen was. The cold body in the morgue gave no clues about the living breathing person. Though to be honest, he wasn't sure if this would assist their investigation. It was just something he felt compelled to do.

Sara sensed there was more to it. "Gil, obsessing about Carmen isn't going to help us find her killer. It's not a good idea."

"Don't you think we're missing something? The evidence tells the story, but the facts aren't fitting together logically. Evidence of Luke's visit is undeniable. While he clearly might have lied about the night, Mr. Reas plainly stated that he heard the disturbance in Carmen's room on Wednesday night, confirming the boy's time table."

"The email time line corresponds to Wednesday night too."

"Sara, please."

"You're forming an unhealthy attachment to this girl. After today's shift, I want you see Dr. Walker immediately to discuss this."

Although he wasn't thrilled with the idea, he agreed. "Okay. You'll do it?"

She sighed, "Yes. But it's against my better judgment."

"Can you run interference for me if the Reases come by?" He didn't want to jeopardize the department's hard work by upsetting the parents.

"We'll need someone else. I'm not letting you go in there alone."

Reluctantly, he asked, "Who did you have in mind? Catherine? Or Brass?"

"Catherine's too close. As the head investigator, you could be putting her in a bad position. It's better if she doesn't know. And Brass most likely will have the same concerns that I have about you."

Grissom reluctantly agreed.

"I know who," Sara said.

His stomach churned, knowing whom she was referring to.

"Why?" He couldn't keep the defensive edge out of his voice. "Can't we just do it ourselves?"

"We can't look out for the Reases if we're both in Carmen's room. They might get upset if they see you there. And if something does come up that requires additional investigation, we'll need to focus on that. Rob could serve as look out and divert their attention, if necessary."

While he saw her logic, he didn't want to deal with Rob. "The officer on duty could serve just as well."

"Possibly. Depends who it is. Rob would do what we ask without questions. He's trustworthy. An officer we don't know? It's hard to say."

As much as the idea vexed him, his need to get into Carmen's room was more urgent. He'd figure out how to get Rob out of the picture enroute to the Reas compound.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Two Latino girls with broad smiles and arms draped around a grinning Carmen greeted him. He recognized slightly younger versions of Rosa and Tina, Carmen's closest friends who had been interviewed earlier that week. They had been eager to help, yet they had no knowledge of Carmen's invitations to boys over the Internet. To their knowledge, she wasn't boy crazy and she didn't even have a crush. Grissom studied the photo, as if trying to will himself into it, to speak with the elated girls.

His eyes traveled to another shot showing a much younger Carmen with chubby cheeks and pig tails blowing out four candles on a pink iced birthday cake. Another featured Carmen and one of her friends both clad in T shirts and denim shorts squirting the hose at another girl. It must have been a few years ago – the girls' figures hadn't yet blossomed.

The photos on her dresser and walls were unlike those featured on her facebook page. Those were recent and stiffly posed. Her facebook page read more like a composite of a 'cool' teenager rather than that of a real person. Love to hang out with my friends, shop and do my hair. School is a drag. Let's party! As if Carmen had included only what she thought people wanted to hear as opposed to who she really was.

A framed photo displayed on a book shelf showed a younger Carmen playing with a kitten. Would his daughter want a pet? What if she didn't like bugs? Up to that moment, the possibility hadn't occurred to him. That would be disappointing. He'd always been fascinated by insects, spiders and lizards but girls tended to like pets they could cuddle. Maybe a hamster… They lived in cages, he could handle that.

He noticed a guitar resting against the wall. He fingered the pink flower decal attached to it – it was practically Carmen's personal insignia. They had been liberally sprinkled across her facebook page. Had she taken lessons? Although he'd never been musically trained, his daughter would learn the classics on the piano or violin. Given the mint condition of the guitar, it seemed it was more of a fashion accessory for Carmen.

Some gold leaf bound classics filled a bookshelf, but a thin layer of dust indicated they had never been opened. In contrast, a worn copy of a Gossip Girl paperback sat by the night table.

He moved to her closet, scanning her clothing, holding up various items and examining them. He searched for sports paraphernalia such as knee pads or uniforms but didn't find any. He held up a blouse.

Stepping out of the closet he asked, "Isn't this pretty revealing?"

Sara crossed the room to examine it. "Actually Griss, by today's standards it's fairly conservative. The neckline is modest, it wouldn't show any cleavage. The fabric would also cover her stomach. Many girls wear shorter tops to show off tattoos on their lower backs."

"You'd think a girl so eager to get attention from the opposite sex would have worn more provocative clothing." He rubbed his thumb against his bearded jaw. "Even her facebook photos were tame in comparison to other girls."

"That's right."

"Do you think her parents' over protectiveness caused her to go overboard when it came to boys?" He mused out loud while heading back into the closet to continue perusing the contents.

Sara argued, "If that were the case, she'd talk with her friends about them and with the guys at school – away from her parents' influence."

"Any why sex only? I don't understand that."

"That is odd. If she wanted a boyfriend, she could've used her computer to talk with all the boys she wanted."

"There's more going on here than what we're seeing." He left the closet to cross over to another book shelf, but Sara blocked his way to get his attention.

"Gil, it's still likely that one of Reas' business associates did a professional hit for revenge and that Luke's visit had nothing to do with her death."

"True." He conceded, eyes meandering towards some books on the lowest shelf. Was that her school year book?

She glanced towards the door, "I think it's time to go."

He ignored her, taking advantage of her distraction. He reached for the book and then started thumbing through it. "Fromansky's got it covered. He'll call if there are any issues."

His relief at not having to deal with Rob had melted away when he discovered who the officer in charge of the scene was. At least that had gone by without incident. He scanned the year book index. No clubs or sports were mentioned, only her class photo.

Who were you Carmen? He wondered sadly. Did you let anyone see? The autographs from her friends were equally vague.

He glanced up to discover Sara's worried eyes fixed upon him. "What?"

"This is morbid. All you're doing is staring at her stuff. It's not right. It's not good for you and you might endanger our case."

He closed the annual, making an effort to focus on Sara.

"I'm not seeing the relevance here. Nothing has changed. Honestly, I believe you when you say something's off with Carmen. But I don't think it had anything to do with her death so it's none of our business." More softly, she added, "We've done our job, it's time to go."

Grissom's cell phone rang, delaying any decision. Welcoming the diversion, he snapped it open. "Grissom."

"You gotta hear this. Remember how the DNA tests on the semen isolated from Carmen were inconclusive? I thought the sample was contaminated. Well, I tested spots from the bed sheets. You're not gonna believe this."

Greg clearly missed his calling in the theater with his flair for the dramatics. Impatiently Grissom urged, "Just say it Greg."

"Several spots were positive for Luke Hansen."

"As we expected," Grissom's patience was fading fast. "And…"

"Drum roll please…Other spots correspond to…an unknown donor."

Grissom suddenly felt cold.

"What?"

"Other semen isolated from her bed sheets indicates a second male sex partner. The housekeeping staff religiously changes the sheets every Monday and Friday. It had to have been from the same week."

"Thanks Greg." Closing the phone, he relayed the news to Sara who was equally taken aback.

"Another partner? But her computer files showed that no one else responded to her email invitations. Luke was the only one. Who is this person? And was he involved with the murder? How does this all fit together?"

Grissom began to pace. "Something's missing. There's ample evidence that Luke was here. Why haven't we detected this other person?" He thought. "Maybe he didn't have to break in?"

"Mr. Reas does allow extended family and special friends to stay on his premises for weeks at a time. Though I can't imagine him allowing a guy who'd do this to stay in his home."

"Me neither. Do you have the floor plan for the compound?"

She pulled it from her kit and they peered over it. "A guest suite is next door to this room. A much larger guest wing is down the hall and around the corner. There are several relatives staying there. We've interviewed them and their whereabouts have been accounted for. We have a guest list, though who knows if it's complete. The staff refuse to speak with us."

Grissom studied the plan intently.

"Sara, where is the.Reas' master suite?"

She pointed to a different wing.

"How could he have heard Carmen screaming on Wednesday night when she was having sex with Luke? His room is too far away."

Sara peered over his shoulder. "You're right. Unless he routinely checked on her every night? Many parents do that."

"He told us he doesn't. In fact, he made a big deal about his master schedule that he posts for the household so the family knows when to report for dinner and such, and how many nights he's not around due to 'business'. Didn't Carmen suggest only certain dates to Luke for his visits?"

"That's right. We could check with Archie to see if there's any correlation, though I don't think it would be very helpful. She'd obviously arrange for a time when she knew her dad was out of the house."

Turning on the charm, he asked, "Can you do it anyway?"

Sara complied, opening her phone. A few minutes later, she'd completed her conversation with Archie.

"Okay, what am I missing? Every date she suggested, her father was home."

Grissom grinned, "Carmen wanted to get caught. It was a 'cry' for attention. We need to check out that guest suite next door. See what we can hear from there."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Grissom impatiently checked his watch again as he waited on the grounds of the Reas complex for Sara. Fromansky stood near by. To avoid any chance incident with the Reas family, they decided it would be best for Sara to conduct the search of the guest suite alone. Sara insisted that Grissom unaccompanied on the premises might not settle right with the family either, so she asked Fromansky to wait outside with Grissom, to run interference for him if necessary.

"This is silly," Grissom grumbled.

"Yeah, but this guy is a real piece of work so it's better to be careful. Do you think he's involved?"

Grissom scowled at him. "You know I can't say anything. Why are you doing this kind of job anyway?" Not that he really cared; it was merely a way to pass the time.

"I gotta stick this out four more years until my pension kicks in for full benefits." Looking at Grissom, he claimed, "You're lucky, you have other skills. You can move on and do something else. I've given my life to this line of work. I've got no where else to go." More to himself he added, "Nothing else left to give."

Much to Grissom's discomfort, the man felt obligated to provide details. "I loved being a cop. I loved catching scum and locking them up. It was all I ever wanted to do. The law is what keeps us human, keeps us civilized. Without proper enforcement, it's chaos. I knew my place, where I fit in. It wasn't huge but it was important. And it was mine."

Grissom half nodded, wishing he were somewhere else. He had never liked this man and had no desire to exchange confidences with him. Should he open his phone and pretend to call someone just to shut him up?

Still, he wondered. Why had Fromansky left the field for such mundane duties? Or for that matter, had it even been his decision? Were his problems due to political issues? Given the officer's brusque manner, it was a possibility.

"That night, I don't know what happened. We were chasing a bunch of thugs – routine drug bust, and suddenly I couldn't tell the cops from the crooks. Respected, uniformed officers were shooting guys in the back without any warning. Another broke a kid's nose for no reason at all. Don't get me wrong – drug pushers are scum in my book. They deserve what they get. But to see police officers sink to that level?" He grimaced.

Despite himself, he was drawn in. There was more to the story. There had to be. Disillusionment was tough but it would've taken more to crack a tough cop like Fromansky. And what he'd described up to now wouldn't account for the officer's unsettling comments back in Grissom's office over a month ago.

"In the chaos, a bullet nicked my carotid. It hurt like hell. I collapsed. I was convinced I was a goner. I felt myself leaving my body. It was…weird. I saw a tunnel of light and heard a voice tell me it wasn't my time yet. Didn't you?" His eyes were imploring Grissom as if to verify the experience, to confirm that he wasn't losing his mind.

Grissom could only shake his head. Taking pity on Fromansky's pleading gaze, he added, "I don't remember anything. I wish I did."

"I didn't want to come back. It was a much better place than this. Peaceful. Warm. But…here I am. They say it was friendly fire but I don't see any reason in hell for an officer to have fired in that vicinity. I can't work with people that I can't trust. And I can't do a job that seems pointless."

"But don't you miss being out there? It was only one bad night. Think of all the criminals you've successfully put away. All the good you've done." Even though he was having issues of his own, Grissom couldn't imagine his life without his job.

"God no. I don't see it the same way anymore. All I see are the ones who got off on some technicality or good cops gone bad. For every crook you lock up, three new ones replace them. It's meaningless. I've had enough.

"Haven't you? Aren't you tired of dealing with the scum of society? Why are you still doing this? Aren't you tired of death? You have choices."

Choices?

Grissom suppressed a bitter laugh, Fromansky sounded jealous of him. What was he talking about? Like the police officer, he too would be adrift without the anchor of his career. And unlike Fromansky, he had significant impairments hampering him. What was that man complaining about? Grissom was willing to do whatever he had to in order to make his career work.

Grissom's phone rang and he eagerly opened it. Turning his back on Fromansky, he answered,

"Yeah, tell me what you found…"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Grissom rubbed his temples. He'd been so intently focused on work for the past hours his mind and body were tiring. He'd asked Nick to bring Sara home earlier at the end of the first shift but he'd had too many nagging questions to leave just then. Originally, he'd planned to follow shortly after her. Still, somehow the minutes rapidly became hours.

A picture was emerging in his mind about the case. A disturbing one. Unfortunately he had no proof to substantiate his gruesome hypothesis, so he was afraid to share it with the others. After his outburst with the Reases, he didn't want to draw further negative attention to himself. Yet as he continued to examine the evidence, his gut insisted that he was on the right track.

He'd been tempted to call Sara, just to check up on her and share his idea with someone who'd respect him regardless. But she'd been having such difficulties with the pregnancy; he didn't want to wake her or put her in an awkward position if she had objections to what he was proposing. And she would. What he was proposing could be considered professional suicide. After all the precautions they'd taken earlier in the day to avoid upsetting the Reases, she'd be furious with him.

It hadn't been an easy decision to make. He'd never been a man driven by instincts; in the past he'd scoffed at those that did. Cold hard evidence had always been his way. And Mr. Reas' power and lack of scruples badly unnerved him. He had no desire to face him again. For the first time, in addition to his own safety, he worried about that of Sara and their unborn child. But he couldn't see any other way of uncovering the truth. He couldn't bear the thought of failing Carmen, of not bringing her justice. He had to know what really happened to her.

His hand trembled slightly and he grabbed it with his other to hold it still. It wasn't good to push himself like this. His thinking got murky and he made more mistakes. Hopefully he could keep it together long enough to complete this interview, which wouldn't even register on the department's radar. It would differ from any other one that he'd ever conducted. Grissom had rarely acted so impulsively. Yet as his suspicions escalated he felt the circumstances warranted such drastic measures.

He warily eyed the door, taking a deep breath.

Mr. Reas paused in the doorway of the interview room.

"I thought Ms. Willows was in charge of the investigation?"

"Officially, yes. You're here off the record."

Mr. Reas entered and took a seat opposite Grissom. "I see. Exactly what do you want to talk about?"

He took a breath. This was it. He had to do it - for Carmen. With more confidence than he felt, he said, "I know who killed your daughter. And so do you."

"Of course, those blasted Tenaga brothers…"

"Are a convenient excuse since they don't have a reliable alibi. They also have a score to settle with you, since they claim you cheated them out of a lot of money, Even though the media is running rampant with that story, there's no hard evidence to support it."

"It certainly wasn't some sex crazed teenager. Carmen would never be that foolish."

The man was in denial. Yet Grissom was pleased to hear a trace of sadness in his voice.

He sneered, "What does your evidence say?"

Grissom sighed, "It's not that simple. Luke Hansen was in your daughter's room – we can prove that. Yet you confirm that happened on Wednesday rather than Thursday night when Carmen was murdered. Luke also doesn't have a clear cut motive for killing your daughter. He got what he came for. He's not very sophisticated. If he had done it, it wouldn't have been such a clean job. He also would've broken down and confessed by now."

Grissom opened a folder on the table before him. He was about to cross into unfamiliar terrain, leaving the comfortable support of solid facts behind. Swallowing his fear, he looked Reas directly in the eyes.

"This far into the investigation and you're still withholding information. You already know that your daughter had sex with two different men this past week."

"What? I know no such thing!"

Undeterred, Grissom continued, "DNA isolated from the….. semen on her bed sheets corresponded to Luke Hansen and to another unidentified male. When this sample was compared with your DNA, there are several loci in common, suggesting…….."

Damn it! He willed himself to slow his breathing. He had to finish this.

"…a relative. This DNA also corresponds to that isolated from black hairs found on Carmen's body, your guest room sheets and guest bathroom drain, and saliva isolated from a……a cigar stump hidden with an ashtray in a cupboard in the……..guest room."

"What is this? I thought only the Mexican police just made things up."

Selecting a photo, he passed it across the table to Jorge Reas. "We've been able to account for the relatives that you've already mentioned who are staying on your compound. Their where abouts for the night of the murder have been checked and confirmed. My bets are on him – your brother Enrique."

Mr. Reas didn't touch the photo. "I haven't seen him in years."

"He has a mile long rap sheet in Mexico."

Jorge grinned unpleasantly, "What does Enrique have to do with anything?"

"You've effectively silenced your household staff and family ….…..members. Though I suspect he's visited you off and on over the past few years, scheduling more visits as your daughter began to mature. Possibly he has visited quite a lot this past……….year."

Somewhat flustered, Mr. Reas commanded, "Get to the point. If you have one."

"Your daughter wasn't looking for casual sex with that boy. Luke Hansen was a cry for help. She wanted you to catch her in the act. She purposely planned it for a night when you'd be visiting with Enrique in the guest suite. She wanted your……protection. She was sick of being mauled by Enrique. She was afraid of him and she didn't know who else to turn to. You were the only person powerful enough to protect her."

"I don't know what you're talking about," his cool response.

"Luke claimed he was hiding in Carmen's bathroom for a while that night. Yet you gave us the impression you only spoke a moment with her. As if Carmen had had a nightmare and you fixed her covers. What happened between the two of you that night?" The flash of contriteness in Jorge's eyes made him ask, "Did she tell you about Enrique?"

"Liar!" He slammed his fist on the table and stood.

Grissom rose as well, "Why was his semen found on her……..sheets? With your staff it's not sloppy housecleaning."

"There is no proof. Especially not for the filth you're suggesting."

His anger momentarily covered his fear. "Why are you letting him get away with this? Carmen was your daughter. Why are you……covering for him? I could share my suspicions with your wife. I'm sure she'd want to know."

Jorge's eyes narrowed to slits. "That wouldn't be in your best interests, Mr. Grissom. Or for your pretty girlfriend or child. Pregnancy is a vulnerable time for women. One misstep and…well…things can go wrong, very wrong. It would be a shame really. Especially after your tragic accident."

Grissom nearly choked on the bile that rose in his throat, but he managed outwardly to keep his cool. His hand automatically moved towards his cell phone, his life line to Sara. How could he have been such a fool to put Sara and the baby in danger? Then again, he couldn't have lived with himself if he didn't try. He was damned if he did and damned if he didn't.

"You realize we've exhausted all the…….possibilities? Without additional information from you or your staff or a DNA sample from Enrique, we have nothing else to go on. Luke doesn't have the…... brains or the motive. The Tenaga brothers have the best motive with no alibi but there's no physical……… evidence. Neither are enough to convince a jury. How will you get justice for Carmen?"

Mr. Reas coolly responded, "I don't need evidence. I know what happened."

"Do you?"

For a moment, he could see sadness in his eyes which revealed everything. She had told him about Enrique that night. He hadn't believed her.

"I'll take care of things my way before any trial sees the light of day."

Another chill ran through Grissom. Was he referring to the Tenaga brothers, Luke Hansen or Enrique? Or to he and Sara?

"Does that include your brother? Are you going to let him get away with what he did to your daughter?"

More composed, Mr. Reas walked over to the doorway. "I haven't seen him in years. Good bye Mr. Grissom. Choose your words wisely so our paths will not cross again."

Once the door shut, Grissom placed his hands on the table and leaned forward, exhausted, his heart hammering wildly. Minutes later he flinched when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"It's just me Gil," Catherine assured him. She pulled up a chair beside him. "How did you know?"

He sat down as well. "I didn't. Not for sure, anyway. That's why I left you out of the loop."

"You took a big chance. I didn't put the pieces together. No one else did, either. But judging from Mr. Reas' reaction, you were right. I didn't think you had it in you. Gil Grissom using his gut instead of hard evidence. I never thought I'd see it. Then again I never thought I'd see you living with a woman and having a baby." She grinned. "And facing Reas alone?" She shuddered, "That took guts. I'm impressed."

Due to his exhaustion, irrational fears were goading him. Would Reas harass him and Sara? Would he need to check their cars every shift for tampering? Was Sara safe at home? Had he just made his life even more of a hassle?

"I'm not. What if he goes after Sara?"

"He was shaken Gil, he knew the truth. You were only the messenger. As long as you don't publicize it, he'll let sleeping dogs lie. He doesn't want to think about it either. I'm still impressed."

"What's the point? Even though we know the truth, we don't have enough evidence to convict the real killer. Reas is using this as an excuse to continue his feud with the Tenaga brothers."

"True. We can't change that. You know, Enrique's eventually gonna get arrested in the States. And when he does, when his DNA enters the database, we've got him. It's just a matter of time."

With sadness, Grissom said, "I don't understand. Why didn't he believe her?"

"Denial is a powerful thing. Something that horrifying happening to your daughter – who would want to believe it? And maybe Enrique is just as dangerous as Jorge, if not more so. Maybe Jorge was afraid of offending his brother? It must have seemed easier to pretend he didn't know. Then Enrique didn't give Carmen the chance to try again. He killed her before she could tell anyone else. Now her father has to live with that knowledge."

XXXXXXXXXX

As if he were in a fog, Grissom stumbled back to his office. Once inside, instead of immediately grabbing his jacket to go home, he sank into his desk chair, closing his eyes. Bone tired, he wondered why he wasn't feeling any satisfaction. This case had been bothering him from the very start. Something was off and he'd finally put the pieces together. He had uncovered Carmen's secret and identified her killer. He had solved the case.

There was no sense of accomplishment; no feeling of a job well done. He had just taken one of the biggest risks of his professional life, confronting a potentially violent man without a shred of hard evidence. Yet he only felt relieved that it was all over.

It didn't make sense.

Solving cases had always been a huge rush for him. It had sustained him for years. He had lived for it. Now it seemed paltry, woefully insufficient. Carmen was dead and her killer was out on the streets. What had been the point behind this futile endeavor? He felt miserably inadequate.

I don't see it the same way anymore.

Since his return, he had fought with his faulty memory and the embarrassingly inconvenient blank outs, developing painstaking, elaborate schemes to compensate for his weaknesses. He'd struggled with disturbing emotions that had interfered with his concentration, along with the stench of each and every corpse that only seemed to multiple. His sleep had been interrupted by visions of dead bodies and he'd lost almost fifteen pounds.

Yet he had overcome those seemingly insurmountable obstacles. He had triumphed, solving the case despite his handicaps. This is what he had been laboring towards - to become the man he had been before the accident. He was finally able to do his job competently.

Why was it such a hollow victory?

In fact, he had even been able to use his emotional handicap for unique insight into Carmen's case. None of the other investigators had caught it. Similar to before his accident, he'd harnessed his emotions and been able to channel them into solving the case. He was truly back on track.

But the thought of dealing with yet another case tomorrow filled him with dread.

Hadn't he dealt with all his problems?

What was wrong with him?

"How can you do it? How can you come back to it after what you've seen?"

Fromansky's words came to his mind. After their conversation earlier that day, Grissom had felt sorry for the officer, he seemed so lost. At that moment he couldn't relate to what the man had been saying about losing meaning with his job. But now, at this very instant, he finally understood. Fromansky's near death experience had changed him. He could no longer see police work in the same light.

And maybe…maybe his own accident had changed him. He had adapted by developing new coping mechanisms. But it wasn't enough. Maybe it never would be. It was time for him to stop making excuses. Being exhausted affected his mental processing, but he had given himself sufficient time to re-adapt to the field. It wasn't working. His baggy trousers and perpetual acid reflux indicated that.

It was time to face facts. If he continued to push himself, to force himself to do this job, his health would suffer. Rather than continuing to blame his handicaps, his unhappiness might be due to the fact that this career was no longer a good fit for him. He had changed. He was a new man whose heart didn't want to deal with death on a daily basis anymore.

"You have choices."

How ironic. For weeks since his return to work, he had been struggling with the wrong question. It had never been a matter of if he was able to return to work. The operative question had always been, did he want to?

TBC

A/N: Only one chapter left. If I can, I will try to post it later this week.