A/N: This was hugely emotional for me to write, which is why it took so long. Thanks for reading, reviewing, and your patience. I hope you enjoy this one!

I don't own CSI.


The Trial

Sara's hands shook as she tried to clasp her necklace. After three failed attempts, she gave up. She carried the piece of jewelry into the living room, where Grissom was waiting for her.

"I can't do it," she said, holding out her necklace and giving him a pathetic look.

He smiled. "Drop the face. It's unnecessary. And, turn around."

Smiling slightly, Sara turned and lifted her hair so he could clasp the necklace around her neck. He planted a kiss against her skin.

"Are you nervous?"

Sara dropped her hair and turned to face him. "Would you believe me if I said no?"

He shook his head. "No."

Sara gave him a small smile. "Didn't think so."

"You're going to be fine," Grissom said. "You've testified in court so many times. You just have to think of it as any other trial."

Sara nodded slightly. "It's not, you know. It won't be. It can't be."

Grissom sighed. "I know."

The clock chimed.

"Come on," Sara said. "Let's go. We don't want to be late."


The courtroom was still and quiet when they arrived. Valerie Nichols and Catherine were the only ones there; they were standing at the prosecutor's table, talking quietly. They both looked up when Grissom and Sara entered the room.

"Hello," Valerie said as they approached. She looked at Sara critically. "Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," Sara replied.

"Catherine's going right before you," Valerie said. "She'll speak to the case itself, the miniature … then, I'll have you describe your experience."

Sara nodded.

"I'll give you a good intro," Catherine promised with a hint of a smile.

"I know you will," Sara said. "I'm glad it's going to be you."

Catherine squeezed her arm and stepped closer. "You can do this," she nearly whispered.

Sara nodded. "I don't have much choice, do I?"

Catherine looked into her eyes for a moment. "You are the strongest person I've ever known," she said quietly. "It wouldn't matter if you had a choice. You'd do it either way."

Catherine's words had the desired effect; Sara suddenly felt stronger. She could do this – not because she had to, but because she wanted to. She had spent a decade working to make the cities she lived in safer. If it was in her power to help make Las Vegas safer by making sure that Natalie was behind bars, then that was what she would do – no matter what it took to do it.

Grissom sensed the shift in her emotions and looked at her. She smiled at him. Reading the difference in her eyes, he relaxed. She was finally seeing it for what it was at the surface – just another trial.

People began arriving, and they took their seats. Sara sat between Catherine and Grissom, watching as others filed into the room. Nick, Warrick and Greg arrived together; they sat down on the other side of Catherine, all giving Sara cheerful smiles.

"You ready?" Nick asked, leaning across Catherine to talk to Sara.

Sara nodded. "Bring it."

Nick grinned. "That's my girl."

"Hey," Brass said as he sat down on the other side of Grissom. "How are you holding up, Sara?"

"Fine," she said.

He winked at her. "Just a little longer, and it'll all be over."

"Right," Sara said, exhaling. It'll never all be over.

The conversations in the courtroom died away as attention shifted to the defendant being led to her seat. Sara's entire body clenched; she grabbed Grissom's hand with a ferocity that almost frightened him. He glanced at her, and held her hand tightly. He inched as close to her as he could without actually moving his chair; she leaned toward him until their shoulders were touching. He tilted his head toward her.

"Okay?" he whispered.

Sara shook her head mutely. Grissom tightened his grip on her hand.

They were asked to rise as the judge entered the room. Sara barely heard the command; she would have stayed seated if Grissom had not pulled her to her feet. Once they were seated again, Grissom shifted toward Sara.

"Honey, you've got to calm down," he whispered. "She can't hurt you now."

Sara nodded. "I know. I know."

Grissom squeezed her hand again, and she reached across with her other hand so that both of hers could wrap around his. She exhaled slowly, and closed her eyes, trying to find her inner balance again.

Both attorneys gave their opening arguments, but Sara barely heard them. It wasn't until Valerie called Grissom to the stand that she came back into the moment; she had to let go of his hand so he could get up to testify.

Almost as soon as he had gone, Nick sat down next to her, taking her hand as Grissom had. It wasn't the same, but it was a great comfort.

"Dr. Grissom, you and your department have investigated five homicides or attempted homicides that were accompanied by miniatures of the crime scenes, is that correct?" Valerie asked once Grissom had been sworn in.

She used a wireless clicker to scan through images of all five miniatures for the court to see. Sara stiffened as her miniature dominated the screen. Nick looked at her with concern.

"Yes, that is correct," Grissom agreed.

"Tell us how you discovered the first miniature."

"I was called to the scene of Izzy Delancy's murder," Grissom said as Valerie clicked back to the first miniature. "The miniature was sitting on the kitchen counter, near the body."

"And, this miniature was an exact replica of the crime scene?"

"Yes." Grissom took the offered clicker and began showing photos of the crime scene and the miniature to illustrate his words. "The victim had been killed at his breakfast table by blunt force trauma to the head. We were able to determine that the murder weapon was a marble rolling pin. We found a bloody rolling pin both in the kitchen drawer, as well as in the drawer of the miniature. Both had been wiped clean. We also noted that the suspect stayed to watch the blood pool at the victim's feet after hitting him over the head; the blood pool in the miniature was an exact model of it."

"How do you know the killer stayed to watch the blood pool?"

"There is no way to predict a blood pool. They are all inherently random. Without staying to watch it form, there is no way of knowing how it will look. The pool in the miniature was also created using the victim's own blood."

"Where you able to solve this case immediately? Make an arrest?"

"No," Grissom admitted. "There was not enough evidence left at the crime scene to determine the identity of the killer."

"I see. How, then, did we get to this point of having a trial?"

"This was only the first miniature we found. After the second appeared, we realized we were dealing with a serial killer."

"Now, your colleagues will speak to individual crime scenes, but I do want to ask you to speak about the process by which the serial killer was identified."

"Our first real suspect in the case was a man named Ernie Dell," Grissom said. "We used a security tape to identify him as the man who dropped off the miniature of the second crime scene."

"And, you interrogated Mr. Dell?"

"Yes."

"Did he confess?"

"Not during the interrogation, no."

"But, you did receive a confession?"

Grissom's eyes closed briefly. He had a feeling Ernie Dell's confession would haunt him for the rest of his life.

"Want to grab dinner? It'll be a little while before Brass gets Ernie back here. We've got time before he'll need you."

He didn't, really – the act of eating seemed like an awful lot at the moment –, but he knew that he should. "Okay."

"I just need to clean up my stuff and grab my purse. Meet you back here?"

Grissom nodded. "Okay."

Sara started to walk out, then paused in the doorway. "Gil – I'll see you when I see you."

He nodded and coaxed forth a smile. "I'll see you when I see you."

Once Sara was gone, Grissom forced himself out of his chair. He walked around to the front of his desk, leaning on it while he waited for her to return. His email alert split the silence of his dim office. Deciding to check the message before leaving with Sara, he sat back down.

The message was from Ernie Dell. The subject line was a stated confession to the three murders. The message was a link to a live video. Grissom clicked the link.

Ernie Dell could be seen adjusting his webcam. He straightened up.

"My name is Ernest Edward Dell," he said. "I was born in 1946, in Ames, Iowa. My life has been hard, but I don't complain. I never expected it to be better." He picked up a cup of tea. "I'm good with my hands – I make things, I fix things. I'm a handyman; it's what I am.

"A man has a right to an honest day's pay. Me, I service the machinery of death so that people can eat. If that makes me evil, then so be it." He paused to take a sip of his tea.

"I'm not the sociable type; I know that. Spend any amount of time around people, you get your heart broke. Treachery … hypocrisy … the promise of love. Look into the mouth of a person, and you'll find lies, wriggling there like maggots waiting to grow wings. The world has gone mad. A man could kill from sun up to sunset, and, still, his work would never be done."

He reached down again; Grissom assumed he was going to take another sip of his tea. Nothing could have prepared him for the next three seconds. Ernie straightened up with a gun in his hand and, without a moment's hesitation, put it under his chin and shot himself.

Grissom jumped, horror filling him. He could hear the voices of the SWAT team as they hurried through the house; within a moment, two of them were on the screen, trying fruitlessly to help Ernie.

Grissom was still staring at the screen when Sara walked back into his office.

"Yes," Grissom finally said, opening his eyes again. "He emailed me a link to a webcam video of his confession."

"And, at the end of that confession?"

"He committed suicide."

"At that time, how many miniature cases had you investigated?"

"Three."

"But, there were still more to come."

"Yes. We were all surprised by the fourth miniature."

"So, Ernie Dell was not responsible for any of the deaths you had investigated?"

"No. The fourth miniature came with a message, telling us that we had been wrong." He clicked to the next picture, this one of the tiny images of the doll with the words YOU WERE WRONG painted on them.

"Thank you, Dr. Grissom. I have no further questions at this time."

The judge nodded to the defense. Mr. Monroe stood.

"We have no questions for Dr. Grissom at this time, but request the right to recall him later."

The judge nodded, then looked back at Valerie. "Next witness?"

Nick left Sara's side as Grissom returned, reclaiming his place holding her hand. She gave him a slight smile, and squeezed his arm with her free hand.

"Good job," she whispered.

Grissom smiled back. "Now, it's Greg's turn."

Greg was called to the stand, and spoke of going through Ernie Dell's belongings and accounts to find his son. Sofia was called next; she described interviewing Lionel Dell and going through the foster system until they were able to find Natalie. Hodges explained the connection between the crime scenes, the victims, the suspect and bleach. Natalie's biological father took the stand to describe her childhood trauma, her dead sister, and his use of bleach to clean the blood on their sidewalk. A psychiatrist who had worked with Natalie was called to explain her particular psychosis and its connection to bleach and her past.

"We must remember," Valerie told the jury, "that while this process of discovering Natalie Davis' identity was going on, other murders were being attempted. I'd like to let another member of the CSI team describe the final murder Natalie Davis attempted to commit. The prosecution calls Catherine Willows to the stand."

Catherine gave Sara an encouraging smile, then went to the stand. She was sworn in, then looked at Valerie expectantly.

"Ms. Willows, there were five miniatures created, correct?"

"Yes."

"Were they all left at the crime scenes, like the one that Dr. Grissom described?"

"No," Catherine said. "The first, Izzy Delancy's, was left at the crime scene. The second was delivered to the crime scene after the fact."

"Why?"

"We believe that the victim, Penny Garden, did not die as expected. The liquid nicotine that was slipped into her drink caused a violent reaction; she ended up smashing through a window before she died. The miniature was delivered to the house a few days later; we believe that the suspect was compelled to correct it before we could see it." She clicked to a new picture. "Here, you can see glue on the back of the doll, and on the chair. She has been moved."

"Indeed," Valerie said. "Was this the only one delivered after the fact?"

"The fourth was delivered prior to the murder," Catherine said. "The fifth was also delivered."

"The fifth," Valerie said. She clicked the image of the tiny flipped Mustang on the screen again. "This scene shows the attempted murder of Sara Sidle, one of your colleagues."

"Yes," Catherine said.

"Where was it delivered?"

"To Dr. Grissom's office at CSI."

"Why to his office?"

"This was the second miniature to be delivered to his office," Catherine said. "With the delivery of the fourth miniature, we knew that it had become personal."

"Why?"

"Ernie Dell knew what Natalie Davis had done to the first three victims," Catherine said. "He confessed and killed himself to take the blame away from her – even though, at that point, she wasn't a suspect. He had seen pictures of the miniatures during interrogation, and recognized them as hers.

"After his suicide, Natalie blamed Dr. Grissom for her foster father's death. She made it personal by delivering the fourth miniature to him to tell him that he had been wrong. She then sought revenge by attempting to kill Sara." She paused. "Our team is very close – like a family. Hurting one of them was the best way to get to Dr. Grissom."

"Why Sara? Why not another member of the team?"

"They share a special relationship," Catherine said a bit evasively. "Natalie knew that Sara's death would hurt him more than anyone else's on the team."

Well played, Cath, Sara thought.

Catherine continued on, describing the miniature, the revelation that Natalie worked in their building, and the frantic search for Sara.

"Thank you, Ms. Willows," Valerie finally said. "I have no further questions."

Mr. Monroe again declined to question her at that moment. Valerie was free to call her next witness.

"The prosecution calls Sara Sidle to the stand," she said.

Grissom gave her hand one last squeeze before letting Sara get up. She barely controlled her shaking as she made her way to the stand, but calmed down as she was sworn in. The familiar ceremony eased her nerves.

"Ms. Sidle, after listening to Ms. Willows describe what you went through, let me say how glad we are to see you in court today."

Sara smiled slightly. Valerie truly looked shaken by Catherine's account.

"I'm going to ask for your perspective on that same night," Valerie said. "Please tell us what you remember, with as much detail as possible."

"I was on my way to work," Sara said. "I had stopped for dinner, and was going back to my car – I was parked in a parking structure at a strip mall. I was … talking to Dr. Grissom on my cell phone. He had called to tell me that they had identified the Miniature Killer, and to ask me to come to work as soon as possible. We finished our conversation right before I got to my car. I think I opened the trunk before I heard someone say my name."

Sara paused and took a deep breath. "I turned around, and almost immediately was hit with a Taser."

"Did you see who hit you?"

"No," Sara admitted. "It happened too quickly."

Valerie nodded. "Continue."

"The next thing I remember is waking up in a trunk," Sara said. "My hands were tied behind my back with a zip tie, and one of the Taser barbs was still in my vest. I used it to break the zip tie. My only thought was that I had to get out of the trunk. I used the emergency latch to open it, but the car was moving too fast to jump out." She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them. "There was a speaker that was loose. I pulled it out, and released the back seat so I could get into the cabin of the car."

"And, at this point, could you see who had abducted you?"

"Yes," Sara said firmly.

"And, who was it?"

"Natalie Davis."

Valerie nodded. "At this point, where you able to escape?"

"I attempted to," Sara said. "I … tried to gain control of the car. But, Natalie was too strong … I couldn't get the wheel away from her. Once she had slowed down enough, I tried to jump out, but only injured myself more. Natalie came back, picked me up, and put me back in the car. She gave me water that something in it to make me drowsy, and drove me out into the desert."

"Once you were there, what happened?"

"She lowered a car onto me."

"This car?" Valerie showed pictures of the totaled Mustang.

"Yes."

"Did it crush you?"

"No. It pinned my feet and arms so I could not escape easily."

"What did she do then?"

"Natalie?" she asked, feeling panic rise in her again. "Natalie, what are you doing?"

She looked around wildly, and realized exactly what was happening. A car was being lowered down on her. She was going to be crushed.

"Natalie? What are you doing?" she asked again. She screamed in pain as her broken arm was trapped under the car. "Don't do this!"

The car reached the ground and stopped moving. Aside from her arm, Sara wasn't being crushed by it. Natalie gave a satisfied smile, and turned to walk away.

"Natalie?" Sara exclaimed, realizing that her captor was leaving her with no means of escape. "Natalie! Natalie!"

Natalie climbed into her car and drove away.

"She left." Tears filled Sara's eyes, but she determinedly blinked them away. "I yelled for her to come back, not to do this, but she left."

"So, Natalie Davis used a Taser on you, trapped you in a trunk, drugged you, pinned you under a car, and left you in the desert?"

"Yes."

"To die."

Sara nodded. "Yes," she nearly whispered.

"But, you got out."

Sara nodded. "Catherine always says that I'm a fighter, a survivor – I couldn't let myself die. Not like that." She caught Nick's eyes. "Not that night."

Nick's eyes were suddenly over-bright. He worked on swallowing.

"So, once you escaped from the car, where did you go?"

"I honestly have no idea," Sara replied. "I wandered through the desert, hoping that I was on a path that would take me to a city or a town or a highway … anywhere that I could find someone. I didn't have any way of telling my team where I was, or that I was looking for them."

"Did you achieve that?"

"No. I collapsed before I made it that far. But, two members of my team, Nick Stokes and Sofia Curtis, found me." She swallowed. "They saved me."

"Thank you, Ms. Sidle. I have no further questions."

The judge nodded. "Mr. Monroe?"

He stood up and walked toward Sara. "Ms. Sidle, you spoke of attempting to gain control of the car while you were being driven into the desert. Is this true?"

"Yes," Sara said. She had expected this argument, and remembered what Valerie had said before.

"Is it also true that you spent a portion of your life in foster care?"

A cold shiver ran down Sara's spine. She had not expected that. "Yes," she said slowly.

"Why is that? Were you abused?"

Tears once again filled her eyes. "Yes," she nearly whispered.

"Physically?"

"Yes."

"Verbally? Emotionally?"

"Yes."

"By whom?"

She drew a deep breath. "My father."

"And, where is he now?"

"He … died."

"Isn't it true that he is dead because your mother killed him?"

All the color drained out of Sara's face. "Yes," she whispered.

"So … it would be safe to say that both of your parents were violent people."

"Objection!" Valerie said before Sara could even collect herself enough to answer.

"Sustained. She is not responsible for the sins of her parents, Mr. Monroe."

He nodded. "Ms. Sidle, how tall are you?"

Sara looked surprised at the topic change. "Five foot nine," she said.

"Five foot nine," Mr. Monroe repeated. "Do you know how tall Ms. Davis is?"

"No."

"Five foot four," he said. He studied her. "Do you work out?"

"Yes," she said cautiously.

"And, you work in law enforcement?"

"Yes."

"So, you've been trained in all sorts of defense, including weaponless?"

"Yes," Sara said again.

He nodded. "So, you are asking us to believe that you merely attempted to overpower Ms. Davis? Wouldn't it be more accurate to say that you attacked her? That you displayed a certain … violence toward her?"

"I –"

"Objection!" Valerie said. "Your Honor, Mr. Monroe just mentioned defense, not offense. Ms. Sidle had already been Tasered and locked in a trunk. To suggest that she was attacking anyone is ridiculous. She was fighting for her life. She is entitled to defend herself." She looked disgusted. "He's blaming the victim."

"Sustained. Try a new track, Mr. Monroe."

He nodded. "We've listened to you colleagues speak to motive, Ms. Sidle. Mr. Hodges explained that your serial killer's psychotic breaks were associated with bleach. What is there to connect you both to Ms. Davis and to bleach?"

"Nothing," Sara said, feeling more and more miserable by the moment, but trying desperately to hang on to her professional demeanor. "Nothing that I know of."

"So, then, Ms. Willows was right when she spoke of Ms. Davis wanting to use you to exact some sort of revenge against Dr. Grissom?"

"I obviously wasn't allowed to work that case, Mr. Monroe. You'd have to ask Ms. Willows."

Grissom and Catherine glanced at each other, barely hiding their smiles. With that answer, they knew their Sara was back.

"But, surely, Natalie mentioned something to you while you drove together in the car into the desert …"

"We actually have a lot in common," Sara continued, wondering vaguely if Grissom and Greg would appreciate her renewed attempts to befriend this woman. "I was a foster kid, too."

This captured Natalie's attention; she looked back at Sara again.

"Happy, happy, joy, joy," Sara said. Her face twisted with painful memories of her past. "I do know what it's like to be alone. Afraid that nobody's ever going to be there for you."

"Ernie was," Natalie nearly whispered.

"Yes, he was," Sara agreed. "That's true, Natalie." She paused. "I lost my father, too," she confessed. It wasn't exactly the same, but still … "I know that Ernie loved you," Sara continued. "He would not have wanted you to do this."

"Ernie loved me more than Grissom could ever love you," Natalie said.

"Grissom?" Sara repeated. Suddenly, everything slid into place. Grissom had taken Ernie from Natalie, so Natalie would take Sara from Grissom. "Oh, I know what this is about," she said, her eyes sliding closed. She struggled to open them, but found her vision blurring. "Natalie? What did you put in the water, Natalie? Huh?"

Again, she succumbed to blackness.

"Ms. Sidle?" Mr. Monroe prompted.

"Like Catherine said," Sara said. "She knew that Grissom and I are close. She wanted to hurt him, and she used me to do it."

"Close," he repeated. "Let's call a spade a spade, shall we? You are Dr. Grissom's lover."

The color drained out of Sara's face, then returned with full force, making her turn a startling shade of red.

"Aren't you?"

"Yes," she nearly whispered.

"Objection," Valerie said. "Relevance?"

"It's important to establish the sort of relationship Dr. Grissom and Ms. Sidle share, your Honor," Mr. Monroe said.

"I'll allow it," the judge replied. "But, tread carefully, Mr. Monroe."

He nodded. "I have no further questions for Ms. Sidle."

The judge nodded. "You are dismissed."

Sara gratefully left the stand and took her seat next to Grissom. He grabbed her hand, squeezing it tightly. She looked so miserable that all he wanted was to fold her into his arms and hold her, but knew that at such a moment it would be exceptionally inappropriate.

"The prosecution rests, your Honor," Valerie was saying.

"Mr. Monroe?"

"The defense calls Gilbert Grissom."

Grissom got up and returned to the stand.

"Dr. Grissom, I want to discuss the night that Natalie Davis was brought in for questioning by your department," he said.

Grissom nodded, his mind already racing back to that night, to standing in the hallway with Brass, listening to his friend say that he wanted to drip bleach on Natalie until she gave up Sara's location.

"You interrogated her, right?"

"Yes," Grissom replied.

"Did she … answer your questions?"

"This last one was brilliant. You studied our crime scene so well, tracking our car to the junk yard and then towing it all the way out to the desert where you knew we wouldn't find it." He smiled at her, hoping that he'd be able to keep his charade going. Just a little longer … "And, then … the way you killed Sara …"

"No," Natalie whispered. "I didn't kill her."

Grissom's eyes lit up. "You didn't?"

Natalie shook her head, watching him. "This is about her," she said. "Her, her, her! It's always about her!"

"No, it isn't, Natalie, it's about you," Grissom said, mentally berating himself for showing any sign of interest in Sara's wellbeing.

Natalie looked away from him and began singing to herself. Grissom's eyes widened. Oh, God. I'm losing her. I'm losing her.

"Natalie, listen to me," he said calmly, firmly, hoping to snap her back into the conversation. "Tell me where she is. Natalie, please tell me where Sara is."

She continued singing, staring at a point on the floor. Grissom felt his frustration, his anger, and the despair he had fought all night rising to the surface.

"Dr. Grissom?"

"Not exactly," he finally answered.

"No," Mr. Monroe agreed. "How could she? You were shaking her to death."

Grissom frowned.

"Stop it!" he yelled. He grabbed Natalie by the shoulders and began shaking her. "Just stop this! Tell me where Sara is!"

She continued singing, apparently oblivious to his actions. He released her and sat back, his hand coming up to cover his mouth as horror filled him. My God. What have I done?

"Isn't that true, Dr. Grissom?"

"I did … shake her," he admitted reluctantly. "Not to death, obviously, but … I was frustrated. I knew that she had already killed four people, and I knew that she had left my colleague out in the desert to die. I'm not proud of what I did, but … I was under a considerable amount of stress."

"Yes," Mr. Monroe agreed slowly, "I'd imagine that knowing that one's lover has been kidnapped can be stressful."

"Objection! He's baiting the witness."

"Sustained."

"Don't you think, Dr. Grissom, that your actions – which border on police brutality – were more connected to the fact that it was your lover under that car than that it was a colleague?"

Sara looked at Catherine. "I'm going to be sick," she whispered.

"No, you are not," Catherine said firmly. "Valerie's right. He's baiting Grissom. I don't know what he's trying to accomplish beyond character assassination, but he's working very hard to do it."

"Why assassinate his character?" Sara asked.

"Because they've got nothing else to do," Catherine said. "She did it, and everyone, even her attorney, knows it. But, he has to defend her somehow … if smearing Grissom is what it takes, that's what he'll do."

Sara shook her head. "It's not right."

"We've been here before, Sara. Just … hang in there."

She nodded, and resolved to see this thing through to the end.


They were finally dismissed for the day. Grissom and Sara walked out with the rest of the team. Warrick proposed going out for dinner before work; although the others agreed, Grissom and Sara both declined. While Nick, Warrick and Greg gave Sara encouraging hugs, Catherine grabbed Grissom's arm.

"Take tonight off," she said urgently.

He frowned. "Why?"

She nodded toward Sara, who was clinging to Nick. "She needs you more than we do."

Grissom sighed. "Yeah. Thanks, Cath."

She smiled. "That's what friends are for."