He lets himself into the room, closes the door behind him and sighs. Every footstep is heavy, the weight of the day's event thick on his shoulders. His throat is burning, his heart aches, he wants nothing more than to sleep for the next decade. He removes his coat, tossing it carelessly on a chair; he collapses on the bed.

Sara smiling, laughing, smelling like shampoo and peach and wearing his shirt.

He swallows past the lump in his throat, tears rushing to his eyes.

"I love you."

If he could record it he'd play it over and over, if he could just record her every move. . .

Nitpicking forensics documentaries, the feel of her hair on his cheek as she finished his crossword puzzle, the feel of her skin. . .

A tear trails down his face, he does not wipe it away. The first time she cried in front of him, he had frozen, unable to do anything.

"I wish I was like you, Grissom. I wish I didn't feel anything."

There was her book with the king of diamonds as a bookmark, and her suitcase, and her pajamas. There were her clothes, her shoes. There was her toothbrush, her hairbrush, her shampoo. There was her CD player and her notebook and her pen and his heart.

"Everything I need is in this room."

Her life was in this room and she could not be gone, not when she'd forgotten all of this, she had to be coming back she had to, so much of her remained, she can't be gone, oh God no, please. . .

They'd only had two weeks. . .

She must have just left for a minute, she'd be right back, all her stuff was still here. . .

Shaking, he reaches for the phone, dials her home number just to hear her voice, hangs up before it finishes, calls his message service and listens to his messages.

"Hi, it's me, I'm just calling to tell you how much I love you." Time stamp tells him she called today, just before the lecture.

His hands quaking, he calls one more number, Catherine picks up on the second ring.

"Catherine, I miss her," he chokes. "I can see her, but I can't touch her. I hear her voice, but I can't see her. She's everywhere, but she's not here."

He can hear Catherine on the other end, but he continues blindly, staring at the wall. "It's like she's just outside, and she's coming back any second, she has to be coming back. . ." He ends on a sob. "I don't know what to do, Catherine. She was just here!"

"Gil," Catherine trails off, he can hear tears.

"I can't sleep, every time I close my eyes I see her." There she is, right now, smiling, leaning in to kiss him. "I don't want to wake up alone, I can't."

They both stay silent for a while, then he continues. "She can't be really gone, Catherine. She can't. There's her book, she hasn't finished her book. . ."

"Grissom, stop it!"

"There's her clothes and her stuff and her. . ."

"Grissom, listen to me, you have to stop, right now. You can't help her like this," Catherine pleads.

"I can't wake up and find her gone, it's going to kill me. I can't ever imagine waking up without her, Catherine. I can't wake up and find her gone. . ."

"It'll be ok, you'll be fine, she'll be fine."

"I miss her."