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Catherine sighed and tossed the papers onto the table, spilling a few on the floor in the process. She groaned and reached down to grab them, but Nick had already grabbed them. He set the in front of her on the break room table and slid into a seat.

"Something wrong? I mean, besides the obvious."

Catherine sighed and leaned her head into her hand. "I've been looking over the notes from the hotel owner. It just doesn't add up. Doesn't make sense…"

Nick frowned. "How so?"

"Well, the manager said that he called Mrs. Grissom's room, and she answered, listened to his question, then replied that everything was alright."

"Yeah?" Nick said, obviously not understanding where Catherine was going.

She slapped her hands on the table, wishing she could bop Nick in the head. "Grissom's mother was deaf! There's not way she could have heard the phone, much less answer a question said over it!"

Nick's eyes widened, and he began to wish he could bop himself in the head. "Oh…yeah."

Catherine shook her head. "So either he was lying about the phone call, or there was another woman in the hotel room."

Nick sighed. "Back to the crime scene…"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Grissom stared out of the window as the buildings of Vegas flew by. He sighed, the buried his face into his hand, wishing everything would go away. Wishing he would wake up from this horrible nightmare and that things would be just as they were supposed to be. Perhaps, when he woke up, he could take some vacation time and head off to California.

He shook his head. This wasn't some horrible nightmare; this was real. His mother had really come to visit him, and was really dead. He let out a heavy sigh and buried his face in his hands.

Sara glanced at him as she drove, then put on hand on his thigh. He looked down at it for a moment, then scooped it up in his own, holding her hand tightly. "It all seems to be one big nightmare," he said quietly, almost too quietly for Sara to hear. "I keep thinking that I'll wake up, and things will be as they're supposed to. But deep down, I know. Things can never be the same."

She squeezed his hand. "You'll get through, Grissom. Time heals all."

He looked up at her now, studying her as she drove. Her eyes shifted to him and met his eyes. "Will it heal us?" he asked, almost a whisper.

For a moment, Sara had no idea how to reply to that. Was he talking about time healing the pain from his mother's death, or time healing the tension between the two of them? She decided not to say anything, just give Grissom's hand a squeeze. He stared at her for a while longer before turning back to the window, letting out an exhausted sigh.

A few moments later, Sara put the Tahoe into park in the LVPD parking lot. She let the engine run for a moment, staring at the building which now seemed to be so ominous. She knew what lie inside, how people would be talking about the Grissom case with no understanding of who the victim was. Not knowing how Grissom would react. She turned to him now, finding that he was also staring at the building.

He turned to her, then opened his door and slid out. Sara sighed, shut the car off, then followed. As she caught up to him, she did notice subtle changes in his demeanor. He seemed to be a little stiffer than usual, and his eyes were fixed on the ground. While Grissom wasn't someone who was going to spill out his feelings to the first friendly shoulder, there were others ways that he showed his grief. And his strong body language was one of them. Anyone who had spent much time around Grissom would know something was wrong, even without having heard the news.

They stepped into the lab together, making their way towards the back. To the morgue. Grissom reached the door to the morgue first, then froze. His face held an expression of utter fear. Never before had Sara seen that expression on his face, and she hoped that she never would again.

She put a hand on his arm. "Grissom, you don't' have to go in there. They know who she is. Catherine ID'd for you. You don't have to see…"

He turned to her, fixing her with his piercing gaze. "Weren't you listening?" He shook his head. "Right now, everything feels like it's a dream. I need to wake up. I need…finality. Closure only comes with the finality of death…"

Sara put her other hand around his shoulder, giving him an awkward hug. "Alright," she whispered, knowing that he had to accept. "Do you want me to go in with you?"

Grissom shook his head. "No."

She nodded and stepped back. "Alright."

He glanced at her for a second, fear and dread evident in his eyes. Then he turned and slowly pushed open the door to the morgue.

He'd been in that room more times than he would ever be able to count. But suddenly the air of the room seemed to get heavier, and he felt trapped. He watched the door close behind him, then closed his eyes for a moment. He opened them, then slowly walked up to the cabinets for the bodies.

He searched them for a moment before his eyes lay on the paper label of one. He gently ran his finger over the paper, reading it to himself countless times. Grissom, Evelyn. Stabbing Victim. Willows, Stokes. His eyes rested on the last two words a little longer. Catherine and Nick were working the case? He sighed, not in frustration, but in relief. He could think of no one he would trust more with his mother's case.

Mother…The word seemed to ignite the pain he felt deep in his heart. He stared at the paper for a second more before grasping the handle to the drawer. He froze, unsure if he really wanted to see. He shook his head again. Closure…I have to see…He pulled the drawer out, exposing a body covered in a white sheet.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sara stared nervously at the door to the morgue. Grissom had been in there for almost fifteen minutes. While it didn't seem like an excessively long amount of time, she was still worried. What if he'd collapsed again? While that seemed very un-Grissom-like, she still feared it.

She stepped closer to the doors, putting a hand on the handle of one. She hesitated, then slowly pushed it open, ready for anything. She knew that Grissom could be angry with her for intruding, but she needed to know that he was physically all right.

She stepped in, her eyes going towards the wall. Grissom stood by his mother's body, a blank expression on his face as he stared. But as Sara got closer, she saw that he wasn't really staring. While his eyes were fixed on his mother's still face, his thoughts were obviously miles away. He held her hand in one of his.

Sara moved closer to him, ready to leave if he made one indication that he wanted her to. Taking a risk, she put a hand on his shoulder.

He turned to her slowly, pulling himself away from his thoughts. "It's different, you know. She's not…not just some case that came in. I mean…I can look at her face and remember a time when she was happy, and alive. I see her laugh when I told her a joke as a child. I see her smile when I graduated top of my class. I see her cry when I told her I was moving to Vegas. And then I see the pride when I told her I was head of the CSI department." He shook his head. "But then…it's gone. And she's just there. I mean, her body is here, but she's not here."

"I know what you mean, Gris. Her spirit is gone." She moved closer. "But her spirit isn't gone, you know? She's watching over you right now, keeping an eye on you."

A small, sad smile flitted across Grissom's lips. "Yeah. She always did try to protect me." He moved his hand, placing his mother's hand on her stomach. Then he leaned forward and placed his forehead to his mother's, whispering something under his breath. Then he gave another sad smile before pulling the sheet over her face again. He pushed the drawer back in. He turned to Sara.

She was looking at him with such a look of pity and understanding that he felt as if his heart had melted. The cold wall he pulled up over it dissipated, and he reached for her, feeling as if he had to have her in his arms. As if nothing else could ever be right. She came to him, and he wrapped his arms around her, drawing comfort from her presence