A/N: Let's see… I don't own CSI… I'm insane… Trionfale means "triumphant", but this isn't the end, don't worry! There's just gonna be some story developing. 'Bout time. And I do intent to drag Warrick in this, umm, next chapter. Sorry!

-*-*-*-*-*-

Last Voice: A Concerto
9: Trionfale

-*-*-*-*-*-

"Hey, Sara, we need to go back and talk to Samson."

"Why?"

I handed over the reports. "Haven't seen Catherine yet, but the blood on Kasey's lamp? Samson's. The blood on the edge of the table in Will's apartment? Samson's."

She skimmed the papers.

"All her calls are for takeout; she has no family whatsoever listed… Ah, here, DNA."

Something jumped out at her.

"HIV?" she asked.

"What?" I yelped, snapping to attention.

"Samson. He's got HIV."

"Oh. Right."

I breathed. Duh, Greg, of course. The murderer was a positive, remember?

"I'm liking him for this."

"Me too. That's why we're taking Warrick."

"Huh? Why?"

"Greg, Samson is over six and a half feet tall."

"Am I not man enough for ya?"

"Greg, you're not man enough for a termite," Sara laughed. "Besides, Nick's busy in trace, checking the suspected weapons. Grissom's pushing the paper. And Warrick ended up with that case with the little rich runaway. Give me a good murder over a spoiled kid any day."

I wasn't sure I agreed. I wasn't sure she agreed, either.

"Okay. You go show this to Cath, see what she says. I'll find War."

Sara nodded.

She started to walk past me. I stopped her and said, "Hey, Sara, I've been working on my profiling – am I right if I say you're an only child?"

"You're right," she said distractedly, scanning the report some more.

"And there was a problem with your relationship with at least one of your parents."

"Look, Greg, I don't wanna talk about that."

"That's a yes. Okay, were you an outsider in school?"

She exhaled sharply. "I got all of my parents' maturity. It freaked the other kids out. There. Are we done? Because the sooner we get this guy, the better."

"Yeah, yeah, sorry. See you in, what, fifteen minutes?"

"I'll drive."

We took off in opposite directions.

"Oh, hold on!" I turned to walk backwards.

"What?" she barked, glaring over her shoulder.

"I've been meaning to tell you: I've decided that chess and sex are not sports!"

Sara looked puzzled for a second, then grinned. She looked back were she was going barely in time to evade Bobby on his way out of one of the labs.

-*-*-*-*-*-

I happened to look into the layout room as I walked past.

"Hey, Cath."

"Oh, umm, hi, Greg."

I looked at the photos on the board.

I wished I hadn't.

"Are those of the, umm, scene?"

"All of them… Ours is on the left, the girl's apartment in the middle, the other scene on the right."

I nodded and stepped up, steeling myself.

"Is that the blood on the lamp and the table?"

"Yeah."

"They matched it to Samson – Sara's wandering around with the report, looking for you. They got a match on some of the blood in the alley, too."

"Yeah?"

There was silence. I decided I couldn't look at the pictures any longer.

"So… do you have any advice for someone who got burned?"

Catherine looked at me curiously. "All right, who did you come onto now?"

"No, it's not me – it's someone else. A lab tech. I think she needs someone to talk to."

She gave me a different look.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing. That's the thing." I stopped and glanced around nervously, searching for something to focus on. "She needs some advice."

"Don't look back. That's what I say, about pretty much everything."

I sighed and started to go. "Oh, another thing. I was talking to Grissom yesterday. I was wondering why he chose this job, but, well, I didn't want to ask."

"Can't say I blame you. He takes some getting used to. Years of getting used to."

"Well, can you tell me?"

Catherine thought for a minute.

"I think he does this because he couldn't do anything else. Gil by any other job description wouldn't fit. Putting him in another career would be like putting a snake on a bicycle. He eats, sleeps, and breathes criminology."

"I'm surprised he doesn't choke."

"Everyone chokes sometimes."

"Anyway, I've gotta go find Warrick. You seen him?"

"He walked that way a little while ago."

-*-*-*-*-*-

A/N: You know what? Gas pedals only need to be slammed down in the movies. If you do it in real life, your mom gets mad and grabs the wheel. You know what else? Brakes never work just the right amount. You know what else? I'm so short I can barely see to attempt to back up. Ha. Enough about my driving skills (or lack thereof).