A flash of movement caused Nick to look up from the evidence bag he had been about to open.

            'Warrick' He called to the man behind him.

            'Yeah?'  Warrick didn't move his gaze from the computer screen he was watching, he had just got a match.

            'Cat fight'

            Now Warrick turned.  He followed Nick's gaze and saw the two figures staring daggers at each other.  He stood just behind Nick and crossed his arms, watching intently.

            'Can you lip read?'  Nick's face bore a confused stare as he tried to follow the dialogue.

            'No'  Warrick frowned.  'But you don't need to be able to.  It's obvious what they're arguing about.'

            Nick turned to the other man.  'So?'

            Warrick gave a small sigh and took a step forward.  'Sara,' he began his commentary, still not taking his eyes off the women.  'Wants Grissom's case but Catherine wont let it go.'

            'Whoa, hold on.'  Nick stood up, not liking to be so much shorter than his friend.  'Grissom's case?'

            'Man, where have you been?'  Warrick turned to the other man and laid a hand on his shoulder.  'Grissom is the prime suspect in a murder.'

            'What?!'  Nick couldn't prevent the exclamation, his shock was too great.  'Grissom?  Murder?  No!'

            'That's what I thought,' said Warrick bowing his head.

            Nick stared open-mouthed for a few seconds then shook his head and sat back down, the fight temporarily forgotten.  He picked up the unopened evidence bag and passed it between his hands.

            'If I wasn't working this case . . . '  He dropped the bag into a box at his feet.

            'Catherine would still be working that one.  It wouldn't make any difference, Nick.'  Warrick turned his head back to the fight.  'You know how stubborn Catherine can be.'

            Nick smiled, he knew only too well.  He too turned to watch the fight again.  'Hey, shouldn't we intervene, it could get rough? Two headstrong women 'n' all.'

            Warrick was about to reply in the negative, to say they could sort it out themselves, when a fist shot forward and the cry it produced reached their ears through several panes of glass.

            'Maybe we should.' He said instead, striding over to the door with Nick hot at his heels.

            Catherine stepped backwards and narrowly avoided another flying fist.  She made to go forward again but found something was restraining her.  Hands tightened on her upper arms and, recognising her captor, she stopped fighting against his hold but kept her muscles tensed. 

            A young man stepped out in front of her, shielding her from another onslaught.  Nick grabbed Sara's arm and stared her out.  Sara dropped her gaze but kept her fists clenched and muttered a curse under her breath.  She pulled her wrist out of Nick's grip, turned on her heels and began marching away.

            Catherine struggled against Warrick's hold but couldn't break it.  Giving up she made sure Sara heard her before she disappeared around the corner.

            'I didn't touch him!'

            Feeling her muscles relax, Warrick released Catherine, who sank into the chair once again.

            'What was that all about, Catherine?'  Warrick's voice carried notes of concern and yet still held a hint of a demand.

            'She wants Grissom's case,'  Warrick cast Nick an I-told-you-so look  'and she thinks I gave Grissom his bruise.'

            'What bruise?'

            Warrick laughed softly  'Nick, what planet have you been on today?'

            Nick opened his mouth to reply but the door opening cut him off.

            'Catherine'  Brass strode into the room completely unaware of what he had just missed.  'You coming, I'm about to interrogate Grissom?'

            'If you don't mind, I think I'll just watch.'

            Brass nodded and held the door for Catherine.

            'Can I come?'  Nick made for the door as well but Warrick held him back.

            'We have our own case, Nick, remember?'

            'Okay Gil, you know the procedure by now.'  Captain Brass seated himself opposite the CSI.  'Now you're not going to be difficult and demand to see your lawyer, are you?'

            Grissom smiled  'I was expecting Catherine.'

            'Oh, she's here.'  Brass indicated to the two-way mirror.

            Grissom looked over at it and tried to pick out a shadow.  He noticed a faint flicker of movement and smiled.  He felt glad that Catherine would at least witness his interrogation; he wanted her to have all the facts first hand.

            'Now I'll try to make this as painless as possible-'

            'Don't baby me, Jim.'

            Brass laughed softly.  'Okay Gil, I'll be serious now.'  He straightened his face and set his usual frown upon it.  'These are serious accusations, are you sure you don't want a lawyer?'

            Grissom shook his head.  'The evidence is my lawyer.'

            Brass nodded solemnly.  'You were with the victim, er, Mrs Anna Turner, around the time of her death?'

            'She was alive when I left her.'

            'I'm sure she was, Gil.  Could you explain this to me?'  Brass placed an evidence bag on the table.

            Grissom picked it up and examined the contents.  'Single-edged blade, found in most kitchens.  Let me guess; murder weapon?'

            'Good guess.  Now where do you think it was found?'

            Grissom remained silent, he didn't like where this was going.  He looked back at the bloodstained knife then over at the mirror.  He imagined Catherine standing behind the tinted glass, arms folded across her stomach, face decked with her professional frown.

            Why wasn't she interrogating him?  The question bored into his mind.  Perhaps she couldn't face him.  Suddenly a cold chill swept through him; maybe she thought he had killed Anna.

            'Grissom' the word shook the CSI  'that knife was found in your house.  It was in the post pile.  Now why would it be there, Gil?'

            'I don't know.  I didn't have time to open the post.'

            Brass nodded gravely.  'I assume you know what these mean.'  He pushed two printouts towards Grissom, who picked them up.

            Grissom cast his eyes over the pieces of paper.  His hopes were steadily sinking; his old ally was turning it's back on him.  He trusted Catherine with his case but if the evidence convicted him there was nothing she could do.  All he could do was pray that she still valued the 'why' as much as the 'how'.

            Turning his head again, Grissom sought the sanctuary of his closest friend's eyes.  All that separated them was a pane of glass and Grissom couldn't help but wonder if he would have to get used to it.