Hold the day down a while

8.08-8.17

A/N: We may not see Sara for the rest of the season but she remains in hiding. GSR in the shadows. Sad times but like Grissom says, poetry helps.

Many thanks to the amazing writer and friend WalkerTRngr for proofreading.

8.08 You kill me

Hodges stages hypothetical murders in the lab in order to give his fellow lab techs a chance to play CSI, but unbeknownst to them he has other motives behind his actions. Meanwhile, after Sara's farewell, everyone tries to comfort Grissom.

A/N : If it wasn't for Sara gone this would be a fun episode to watch.

Everything the others said, every piece of advice they offered, he had already hashed out on his own. That's all he kept doing since Sara ran away from Vegas; fighting with his thoughts. A million thoughts about her, about them, never ending. To smother this relentless rumination he threw himself into work, pulling doubles as often as he could. He didn't sleep much and he ate even less.

Grissom pushed aside the breakfast plate that remained untouched and grabbed the coffee cup. Raising it hastily to his lips, he spilled some of the black liquid along the way and swore under his breath. "It's not good for people to be alone," Nick told him before the end of their shift. There was a time he didn't mind being alone, even considered solitude a blessing but not anymore. That didn't stop him from ignoring the invitation to go find Nick at Frank's, not because he didn't appreciate the concern or considered him indiscreet enough to pry with unsubtle questions like Catherine certainly would but he couldn't bear the scrutiny. He couldn't bear everyone looking at him for clues, of how he coped, of what he felt. The truth is he couldn't cope and as for the storm of feelings swirling him senseless... Clues are for crime scenes. Feelings are chaos.

The rush of caffeine stirred all uncomfortable questions back for another session of torture.

"Where is she at - emotionally?"

You could always count on Brass to not beat around the bush but asking about Sara's emotional state is like asking what life is. Not the biological, elemental process he was comfortable with but the very meaning of breath, joy, love, grief... everything. She had slowly but steadily become his everything and not by sneaking herself in, no, he had consciously opened the door for her to come in and shake his world up like he knew she would.

The real question was; did he have any regrets? What did he feel during all those sleepless hours of loneliness, swimming against currents of anger, pain and despair? Even the most thorough self-examination didn't reveal a moment of remorse for time spent with her, of loving her and being loved. He only felt sorry their time together had been brief, a mere parenthesis in his accomplished, drab life but he had a feeling even a lifetime with her would feel short-lived.

"Go after her."

Catherine merely stated in words what he couldn't even start to think. He argued that this wasn't what Sara wanted but what did he really know about women? Isn't it true they often say one thing only to mean something else entirely and what if she didn't mean for this to be a goodbye?

If only. No, Sara was the most unfeigned woman he'd ever known, always throwing her words out straight as an arrow and even fiercer when she said nothing at all as her soulful brown eyes told him everything he needed to know. It always left him speechless how brave she was with her feelings to let them bleed out in front of him and stare at his shock over a wound he couldn't touch with latex gloves. No, Sara wouldn't want him to go after her, although this didn't stop him from secretly and foolishly wishing for some 'random' invitation from the San Francisco crime lab or campus, a hint from the universe urging him to not let go. "Yeah, right, whatever," like Greg would say.

"When it's time for someone to move on, you've just got to let them go."

Hodges of all people was closer to the truth although it was a truth he didn't want to face. He wanted her to be happy, he really did but he was only a man and how could she dare to be happy without him? The truth is that when they spoke on the phone she didn't sound very happy and it would be a lie to say he was sorry. Getting the nerve to call her had been almost as difficult as kissing her for the first time but he longed to have her voice stroke gently over his ears and he wanted to make sure she was safe, or that's what he kept telling himself.

"Sara?" Her name came out of his mouth like a prayer as he pressed the phone against his ear and waited in the unbearable silence pondering equally unbearable possible answers.

But her answer was neither a sob or a curse, it was a gritted "Gil."

Drawing in a deep breath of relief, he breathed out her name again. "Sara... Are you okay? Just tell me you are okay and I promise to let go."

"I'm trying. I'll be fine."

"Can I keep calling you until you are fine?"

Her breath was caught in her throat. "Won't this make it harder?"

"As opposed to now?"

"... you hate me?"

"I don't think I ever could."

"Ok."

"Ok, what?"

"I'll call you... I'm going to San Francisco, to visit my mother."

"Oh."

"Bye Gil."

Silence enfolded around him again and he stared at the black screen of his phone as if it could reveal answers to all the questions he couldn't dare to ask.

You who shimmy shook my bone

Leaving me stranded all in love on my own

Do you think of me?

Where am I now? Baby, where do I sleep?

- Closer, Kings of Leon -

8.09 Cockroaches

Warrick's addiction to pills and a sudden reckless lifestyle negatively impact his job. Later, Warrick becomes the chief suspect in another mob-related murder.

Physical exhaustion was a relief compared to emotional turmoil and while Grissom worked his butt off Sara walked. When walk wasn't good enough she ran and let her tears mingle with sweat. In time she traced back all the routes she used to know like the back of her hand in this city of fog, streets and alleys, parks and bridges, all the time wishing Hank was running with her. Only the dog could have understood how much she missed Gil. Poor animal, he must have thought she abandoned him. Oh wait, she did abandon him, she abandoned them both.

Sara stopped running and took out her phone to check if she missed something. Damn it, why did she agree to keep in touch with him on the phone? It was impossible to refrain from inspecting the little device of torture every half an hour for a message or a missed call. Still nothing for the day. She cursed and raised her bottle of water to drink down.

If someone asked her how she was, being back here, she wasn't sure better was the right word. Sleep was still a rarely won battle, her strange nightmares still came and went without invitation or prior warning but somehow she felt calmer knowing she wasn't a burden to anyone, or someone, someone she loved too much to make unhappy with her restlessness and her moods. Even though her intentions were noble or she hoped they were, unhappiness seeped through the phone when they talked. Gil couldn't hide the hurt in his voice although he was too much of a gentle heart to accuse her of anything which only intensified her feelings of guilt.

Despite the awkwardness and pain, their brief talks became an intoxication, she longed to hear him spin the news of the lab and the team, their ups and downs and even all the banter going on as Grissom discovered it was one way to make her laugh. The other was Hank's mischief since Grissom told her the dog had become restless lately, but haven't they all?

They never talked about cases, suspects or victims or even about Grissom's experiments. Sara wouldn't ask and Grissom wouldn't mention. He asked about her mother though, but in a deliberately casual manner in fear of hurting her, as if Sara had been visiting an aunt at the hospital and not her schizophrenic mother who was confined to a mental institution for the rest of her life. She would answer in a similarly untroubled style, not because she wanted to lie but out of her need to protect him of any further grief.

She checked her messages again but the stubborn phone wouldn't oblige. What the hell, she'd call him first, just to make sure he was safe or that's what she kept telling herself.

Waiting for her call to be answered longer than she thought was sane, Sara decided to give up for the day when a hubbub of music and laughter broke through which she quickly recognized as a typical night at a Vegas nightclub . An unexpected pang of jealousy filled her with unease; was he trying to get over their separation in the arms of a dancer? No, she argued with herself, Grissom wasn't the kind of man to pay for love, he had said so himself, hadn't he?

"Sara?" his yelling finally snapped her out of her uncomfortable thoughts.

"Hey Gil, I'm sorry, I didn't think you'd be busy at this hour."

"Yeah, we are kind of having a situation here, listen, I'll call you later... wait, Warrick!" Sara heard him shout before hanging up and she stared at her phone in disbelief. Calling him was a mistake as it only reminded her she didn't belong to the team anymore. They wouldn't call her if they were in trouble anymore and she wouldn't call them. Wiping a tear away she turned to the direction of her mother's residence with a heavy heart. She didn't belong there either.

8.10 Lying down with dogs

The body of a wealthy socialite, known for her charitable contributions, is discovered in a dumping ground along with the bodies of several dogs. The investigation reveals the victim was involved in illegal dog fighting and may have tortured some of the animals at a kennel. Meanwhile, Warrick tries to prove he is innocent of murdering an exotic dancer whose body was found in his car outside a nightclub.

A/N: This one is dedicated to the dog.

Grissom dragged his bare feet on the kitchen floor and grabbed the cup he always used to pour his coffee. It was a common cup, black on the outside and red on the inside and had a drawing of a dog on one side. Sara had bought it for him from some dog shelter she wanted to support and although he had spotted the small chip missing from the rim a long time ago -probably after some rough handling while loading the dishwasher- he liked it, it was a sturdy cup and reminded him of tenacity and commitment. Since he was alone again in this house he felt himself a bit like this cup, empty and missing a chip from his heart no one could see.

Heartache or not, he had to go on. Wasn't he the one who told Warrick 'You got your work, don't screw that up'? Ever since his divorce Warrick was a mess and Grissom didn't feel any better himself only he was the team's supervisor and had to keep his head straight for everyone else's sake. Taking a long look around the kitchen he spotted the shiny green thermos Sara had left behind, some books she had chosen for her reading list piled next to their wine collection and their old photo from San Francisco stuck on the fridge. And then of course there were all her books and clothes and pictures she couldn't take with her so there wasn't really a corner in this house he wouldn't find a piece of her left behind. For what seemed a lifetime ago he remembered dreading such a change in his well ordered life until he welcomed it and eventually just wouldn't have it any other way. Only now it hurt too much to be constantly reminded of her presence. Maybe it would be better if he hid all her things somewhere else, like he had stashed the little velvet box with the ring on the bottom of his closet. Even his beloved bees had to be given away, he couldn't work with them anymore without thinking how happy he was the day she agreed to be his wife.

Grissom felt unbearably heavy and old as he sat on his chair and sipped his coffee. He noticed Hank enter the kitchen groggily as the dog stopped to sniff at the chair Sara used to sit on and disappointed came over to nestle up in his feet. He stroked the beast behind his ears and sighed.

"Yeah, we both miss her buddy."

The dog raised his head and met Grissom's sad face with his big brown eyes as he let out a whimper.

"You know what Hank? I think we should call her right now and tell her how miserable we both are without her, what do you say?"

Hank keenly wagged his tail and Grissom wondered if he'd end up an old man talking to himself and living with memories. He needed to hear Sara's voice even if it was a recorded message.

Sara could feel sweat dripping down her back as she ran down the slope panting. Turning her head over her shoulder she could see Grissom running after her gasping for air while Hank kept leading their strange downhill chase with excited, loud barks. As the dog outran them both the barking sound softened and was covered by some ringing. The ring sounded vaguely familiar, much like her phone, wait, it was her phone, damn, she so wanted to find out what this dream was all about...

"Yeah?"

"Good morning."

"Grissom." Sara was immediately on alert as it was strange of him to call her at this early hour. "Is something wrong?"

"No honey, um... sorry, we just wanted to say hi."

"We?"

"Me and Hank."

"How's he?"

"He misses you."

"I miss him too."

There was a moment of silence as they both knew they weren't just talking about the dog.

"Anyway, he's much better than the dogs we found last night." Grissom was carried away by his need to talk to her like he'd always done after work but as he was about to describe their case of dogs tortured to death he realized his mistake and quickly backed away. "Nevermind..."

"It's ok Gil, tell me."

"A dog fighting ring. Ugly as it gets."

"Oh. Are you ok?"

"Yeah." He wanted to scream that no, he wasn't at all ok without her and would she please come back? but something completely different came out of his mouth. " I was looking for that, eh, entomology textbook with my notes, there was something I wanted to double check. You know where it is?"

"I have it here with me. Tell me what you need and I'll read it for you."

"Oh..." this was an answer he didn't expect and why would he need anything from a textbook he knew inside and out? On the other hand, he had just found out that she kept his book close and that excited him more than its contents.

"Gil?"

"Um, yes. Can you please read my notes for the Annabella butterfly... The West Coast Lady."

"The West Coast Lady huh?... Sure."

He could hear her soft breaths as she turned the pages and he closed his eyes allowing himself to sit back and daydream as if he was listening to a favorite piece of music.

Sara started to read and he was embarrassed to admit he was aroused. He could imagine her reading this beside him in their bed, wearing nothing but a nightdress with satin straps he could pull down with his teeth...

"Gilbert!"

"Yes?"

"I said is this what you were looking for or do you want me to read something else?"

Oh yes, please read. My god, he was ready to masturbate in front of the dog. "No, it's fine, thank you."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course." Anything to get his mind of a semi-naked Sara sprawled in bed.

"If you had to run after me, what would you say when you'd catch up?"

This was a question he certainly didn't expect but somehow words flew out of his mouth with ease.

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair

Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets

Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day

I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps."

- Love Sonnet XI, Pablo Neruda -

8.11 Bull

Three murders occur during an annual bull-riding rodeo in Las Vegas.

Sara stretched out her limbs and took a sip from her tea. It was bitter and cold and she shuddered as she continued her online search. After having read everything she had managed to find about the different types of schizophrenia and how much more likely patients were to commit murder, she had stumbled upon a research on the complexity of gene combinations responsible for hereditary conditions. She was eager to read it through when she noticed the e-mail icon in her computer screen blinking. Grissom. Without delay she redirected the cursor over it as she felt her heart beat faster. It was as if their relationship had gone back to the long distance flirting they had enjoyed for a while after their first meeting in San Francisco. The difference was that her body now knew how it felt to be loved by the man and her heart and mind screamed to her that she needed him. Why would she want to do that to herself again was a mystery, no not a mystery, it was love and she had no control over it. Her thoughts were all about the prevail of logic and composure but her hands and heart behaved completely unaware.

His email was a blank page but a photo was attached. A picture of some evidence bag containing a creased paper with scrawling all over it. Sara recognized it was a letter and zooming in she could clearly read the words.

I can't help now but wonder

what your brown eyes were conceiving

they just showed me reflections of all that I was feeling

our bodies close together like my right hand in my glove

hearts pounding with excitement

and dare I say it love

and we'll ride off in glory

until our time is done

and I will be your hero

your cowboy in the sun

She bit her lip in wonder. Is there anything more romantic than a man citing poetry for a woman and who knew Gil Grissom could be such a man? But he was and she melted every time he read beautiful poems to her while they both lay in bed, legs and hands entwined. Sometimes she liked to tease him while he spoke, tracing kisses round his neck and down his chest as he struggled to keep his focus on the page he was reading from. He rarely succeeded and the book would be soon dropped aside leaving his hands free to slide down her body and his mouth to catch her lips. She was always astonished with the masculine and urgent way he claimed her hips when she was ready for him. He would plunge himself inside her with such unrestrained primal energy and she never felt more in tune with her femininity than at those moments.

Readjusting her posture on the chair she felt her panties had become damp and she sighed in frustration. Slipping her palm between her legs she read once again the part of the poem where hearts pounded together when her phone went off. Identifying the caller sent a new thrill down her spine. She swallowed to clear her throat.

"Gil!"

"Hey. Did you read it?"

"I did, it's lovely. Who wrote it?"

"A cowboy to a bull."

"Oh." God, this was embarrassing.

"It could have been for a girl though, a brown eyed girl. Everyone in the case thought so..." His voice trailed off and Sara felt like he wanted to say more. True to being Grissom, he didn't. Crestfallen since the beautiful poem wasn't meant for her she blurted, "Is he dead?"

"Who?" Grissom asked lost in his thoughts.

"The cowboy."

"Ah, yes but the bull is alive and kicking.

"Great."

"So, what have you been up to?"

Sara pondered what he'd say if she just told him she was dreaming of him making love to her and she smiled to herself.

"Just reading."

"Poetry?"

"Psychiatry."

"Any findings you'd like to share?

"Inconclusive."

"Aren't they always?"

"I thought you believed in hard evidence."

"On facts, not humans. People are unpredictable. Some more than others."

"Let me guess. Do they also have brown eyes?"

"Beautiful brown eyes."

"Mmm, what else?"

"Delightful long legs."

"Gil..."

"And a loving embrace for a heart."

"...what are we doing?"

"What people in love do all the time."

"Are you proposing a long-distance relationship?"

"Am I? I don't know Sara, but nothing feels right without you."

"And since when are you interested in feelings Dr. Grissom?"

"Since I met you."

Sara shivered and closed her eyes. Not being able to touch him at that moment was a physical pain somewhere deep inside her. Suddenly she couldn't breathe and ended the call as she staggered towards the bed and lay down hugging herself. Staring at the unfamiliar wall she wondered how damaged she must be to run away from love when it was all she ever wanted.

8.12 Grissom's divine comedy

Grissom and his team return to duty after long and bad bouts of the cold. DA Maddie Klein calls on Grissom to be an expert witness for a grand jury investigating a very dangerous Las Vegas gang. Grissom is reluctant, but Maddie insists he is the only one for the job.

"Who are you and where is Joe Cocker?

Grissom chuckled on the phone as he stretched out his legs on the couch. He longed for Sara's call since Maddie, the DA dragged him out of bed to work through his sick leave.

"I'm sorry but he's out of the picture. Will you miss him?"

"A little," Sara teased, "it was kinda sexy... your voice."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you but maybe you'd like to know I've grown my beard back. Too sick to shave."

"You are just saying that because you know how much I love the beard."

"You do? I thought you hated the little burns on your skin."

"They weren't little Gil."

"Well, you are safe now." He coughed to clear his throat and reached for a handkerchief.

Sara wouldn't mind to be burned by his beard at this moment at all but she kept it to herself and changed the subject. "So have you been sleeping all day?"

Grissom blew his nose and cleared his throat. "Hardly. I've been forced by the DA to go to court and we all knocked ourselves out at work. Nick and Greg were just as miserable.

"You wore a suit?" Sara asked.

"Is this really all you have to say? No compassion and no concern?"

"Um... I just...

Grissom smiled to the phone sensing her embarrassment. "Do you want me to sing you can leave your hat on?" He chuckled.

"Gil! Stop it!"

"Baby, take off your dress

Yes, yes, yes"

"You are impossible, you know that?" Sara couldn't help but laugh at his effort to imitate guttural vocals.

"Sweet darling

You can leave your hat on"

Grissom burst out coughing and laughing and at that moment made up his mind about something he was thinking over and over for a while. It was time for a trip to the Bay Area.

8.13 A thousand days on earth - 8.14 Drops' out

A/N: I couldn't stand keeping them apart any longer so I just figured 'If the mountain will not come to Muhammad, then Muhammad must go to the mountain'. Plus Grissom is too good looking in these episodes, Sara must see what she is missing.

"Tell me Sara, is that little restaurant with the old movie posters still in place?"

"As a matter of fact it is. Someone else owns it now but he kept the style and menu, why?"

"Can you book us a table for the weekend?"

"...what?"

"Just a date. I have this weekend off."

After that phone call, time was split in two as far as Sara was concerned. The days and hours before they met, which felt unbelievably long and meaningless and no amount of reading or running could make them go any faster and the minutes after she spotted him among the arriving passengers when each second pushed her heart beating to a frenzy. She refrained herself from calling him just to have the gorgeous sight all to herself; his bearded face, his strong arm holding his bag over his shoulder and his crooked walking style. Closing in on their distance she felt her insides come apart and she ran into his arms for an embrace. After that she lost all sense of time, place and self as Grissom grabbed her into his arms and led them both out of the busy lounge . She wasn't sure which one of them called for a taxi or who paid the poor man whose polite questions they completely ignored as their fingers were already dancing pirouettes on each other's exposed parts of skin. She couldn't even remember how they ended up in the elevator of her apartment building making out like teenagers. She must have been the one to open the door since she was the only one with a key but Grissom took over as soon as they came inside the little rented flat. She had described the place well enough for him to know how to lead her towards the bed and they got rid of their clothes on their way. When they ended up naked on the single mattress she didn't care to be complimented or even kissed, she just wanted him to fuck her senseless and he didn't need to be told. Tongues collided, teeth left little marks on hot skin and mouths cried asking for more. It was just passionate raw sex and they were both glistening with sweat when they reached their climax. At some point Sara thought she heard something snap under the bed while Grissom was afraid his blood pressure had reached an all new high but they were too far gone to stop or even slow down.

"My god I missed you Sara..." Grissom muttered still panting.

She was too overwhelmed with the moment to speak so she wreathed her arms around his head and pulled him to rest close to her pounding heart.

They stayed unmoving until their breaths eased down and the room recovered its stillness and then he spoke.

"Let me meet her."

Sara didn't answer, only held tightly around him but he pushed on.

"What are you so afraid of?" We all turn out to be like our mothers in the end." He took hold of her arms and pulled them out of their tight clasp around his neck as he raised his head to meet her eyes. "Honey, It's okay."

"Is it?"

"Yeah." He kissed the line of her jaw and only stopped when he reached her ear. "I'll even love you when you are old and crazy you know that?"

"No one loves crazy people Gil. And no one likes seeing people at their worst. It's a lie. You just feel sorry for them."

"How could I feel sorry for someone who made such a mess out of my life?"

Sara looked at him trying to make sense.

"You know what Kafka said to one of his letters to Milena? And actually it is not you at all I love, but rather the existence you have bestowed on me."

"Well, he also said if you come to me you will be leaping into the abyss."

Grissom ran his fingers through her hair and smiled. "But darling, I'm already in the abyss."

Sara let out a breath and pulled him to a kiss. Her home wasn't San Francisco or Vegas, her home was him and him alone.

8.15 The theory of everything - 8.16 Two and a half deaths

"The string theory landscape... I'm impressed." Sara smiled at his excitement over the physics theory they were discussing lazily on the phone. His childlike enthusiasm always amazed her and touched a soft spot inside her . Apparently their cases in Vegas had gone from crazy to complete bonkers and from what Grissom told her they had all reached their limits of understanding.

"Either the theory of everything makes finally sense Sara or we are all overworked."

"Probably both. Physics is not helping me make any sense regrettably."

"Make sense of what exactly?"

"Biology. Genes."

"Is this about the murdering gene again? This is going nowhere and you know it."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because everyone can kill if pushed too far."

"What would you kill for then?"

"To protect the people I love."

"And if you end up killing the people you love?"

"You can kill them in a million different ways you know."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying come back Sara."

She clenched her fingers around the phone and exhaled in frustration.

"You promised you wouldn't push me with this."

"I'm sorry, I guess I'm tired."

"Gil..." she marched nervously around her room thinking of something to say that could make sense but he had already hung up. Ever since his brief visit in San Francisco Grissom had become impatient and cranky. She missed him too but she wasn't ready to go back to her old life or all this hurt would have seemed pointless. There had to be some sense to be made or else nothing made sense. For the first time since she came back to her mother Sara feared this was exactly what she'd find after all; nothing.

But here, right here

Between the birthmark and the stain

Between the ocean and your open vein

Between the snowman and the rain

Once again, once again

Love calls you by your name

- Leonard Cohen -

8.17 For Gedda

Warrick is accused of murdering a Las Vegas gangster.

A/N: Poor Warrick, you'll be missed -again.

Sara watched her mother as she watched out of the window of her small room. There was a table, a chair, a closet with drawers and the bed her mother was sitting on. Everything was clean and smelled of disinfectant and soap, even her. She was staring outside the window but what she saw was something inside her no one else could see .

Sara sighed and stroked her mother's hand lightly. Another day of few words and much bitterness had gone by. 'Maybe it is time to move on Sidle', she thought. There were no answers here for her to find, just old wounds to scratch. She got to her feet to leave.

"Goodnight mother," she said and Laura turned to her and smiled like she hadn't done for a while.

"Sara, it's time."

"Time for what?"

"To go back to your gentle-man."

Sara stood dumbfounded as she remembered her mother calling Grissom a gentleman after their brief meeting. Sometimes there seemed to be a strange clarity behind Laura's confusion, just like the wisdom you encounter when small children talk.

"All right mom," she said to keep her smiling and walked out of the room in contemplation when her phone rang. Finally. Grissom wasn't answering her calls and she was starting to get worried but reading the caller's name was a surprise. It wasn't him, it was Greg and a bad feeling tied her stomach in knots.

"Greg!" She breathed out on her toes.

"Sara, it's so good to hear your voice again... I wish you were here with us... Warrick is... Warrick is gone, Sara. He was shot..." Greg broke in sobs and she froze in place. Warrick? Carefree, compassionate Warrick? Grissom's favorite? It can't be true. Greg's muffled crying convinced her it was and stirring herself out of inertia she marched out of the building as she spoke to her friend.

"Greg, I'm taking the first flight back. Hang in there ok?"

"Okay, thank you... He attempted a wan reply and hung up.

Sara's eyes filled with tears as her mind went to Warrick and how he always had an encouraging word to say to everyone even when he himself was at his lowest. He was the rock in Grissom's team and she was so sorry she didn't tell him how much he appreciated him before she left. Quickening her pace she wiped her face in haste. There was no time for tears now, she had to fly back as soon as possible to be with them, to be with Grissom. They would always be her family and this family just lost one of their own. Oh, Warrick...

TBC