Fallen:
Chapter 3: Everybody's Fool

A short while later, Grissom found Nick in the hall.  "Hey, Grissom, I was just looking for you," the younger man said as he approached his boss.  "We've gotten back some of the preliminary tests from ballistics."

"What do they say?" Grissom asked as they changed directions and started towards his office.

"Some have been ruled out as having come from Rick's gun.  The others are of the same caliber, but the markings are different," Nick elaborated as they entered Grissom's office.  "So either our shooter managed to change guns. . ."

"Or we have two shooters," Grissom remarked.

"Which could explain how they got Christina."

"Tell me how you see it," Grissom suggested as he took a seat behind his desk and indicated that Nick should take the one opposite him.

"They were waiting.  From what our witnesses said, I'd say they were probably positioned across the street.  They opened fire when Warrick exited his car.  He heard the shots and got his gun.  He returned fire, probably after trying to get to Christina and noticing one of them coming up on him."

That's more than likely when he went down."

"And what questions does that scenario raise?"

"Where were they parked?" Nick answered.  "That's going to be hard to prove if they were moving. . ."

"Assuming they were parked right there," Grissom countered.  "Check with Brass about those witness statements."

"Because they could've parked elsewhere and gone back," Nick conceded.  "We should probably send someone back to check to see if there's a blood trail leaving.  If Rick got a shot off, he more than likely hit his mark.  Which could add to the DNA evidence, but there are so many samples that Greg's going to be backed up in the lab for quite some time."

"It's a working theory in any case," Grissom answered as he shifted in his seat.

"Mig still here?" Nick asked as he started to rise, planning to go and let Greg in on the theory.

"No.  Cath's driving her back to the hospital."

"I would've done it."

"She needed to clock out."

"Glad I'm not in that car.  Tempers are sure going to be rising."

"You don't know the half of it," Grissom sighed, knowing that Catherine would be pushing for answers that she hadn't gotten in interrogation.  "Nick, I need you to do something for me," Grissom added, switching subjects easily.

"If I can," the younger man replied as he sat back down.

"That friend you mentioned earlier when you told me about McBaine.  Does he have a brother named Joe?"

"Yeah.  Why?"

"I need you to call him and convince him to come here."

"You want me to call Joe and get him to come here? Why?"

"I can't explain right now."

"But it has to do with the case?" Nick deduced.

"Yes."

"Grissom, I've known Joey and Kevin for years.  There's no way that they'd knowingly be involved in this," he protested.

"They're involved, just not in the way that you're thinking."

"Great, another Grissom puzzle!  How am I supposed to get him here without any information?"

"Tell him. . . tell him that the wife of a victim whose case we're investigating asked for him and that he'll understand when he gets here.  When he sees her."

"And when will I?"

"That's up to. . ." he paused, realizing that he wasn't sure what she'd want to be called now that they were aware of her other life.

"To who?"

"To Meg," Grissom replied.  "If and when she wants you to know, I'm sure she'll tell you."

"Fair enough," Nick answered, confused.  "I'll go and call him."

Perfect by nature
Icons of self indulgence

Catherine pulled out of the parking lot of the Las Vegas Crime Lab and into traffic, spearing the passenger next to her a glance as she did.  "How are you holding up?" she asked as she looked back at the traffic in front of her, glad that it wasn't very heavy.

"How do you think?" Natalie asked, then added testily: "oh, wait.  About all you think of me is that I have something to hide."

"Grissom told you," the older woman sighed as she tightened her hold on the steering wheel.

"Yeah, although I'm not surprised.  Tell me, is it because of this or because I'm with Warrick."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just that.  I mean, it wasn't exactly a secret that you weren't in favor of our relationship."

"I never said anything that could lead you to believe that."

"No you were extremely careful not to say anything.  In fact, it was what you didn't say.  The looks you gave.  The way your behavior towards me--- towards Warrick--- changed that gave you away."

"There were things going on at the time that had nothing to do with you two.  I mean, why would I object as long as you make him happy?"

"Which you didn't think I could do.  You were waiting for me to hurt him.  Guess your wait is over."

"You're twisting my words."

"Am I?" Natalie asked shifting in her seat.  "You're telling me that you didn't suspect that I had something to do with what happened? That you don't blame me?"

"The person who's to blame is the person who shot Warrick," Catherine deflected as she stopped at a red light.

"You didn't answer my other question, and that answer isn't exactly convincing."

"What do you want me to say, Meg? The exchange between you and McBaine looked suspicious.  Warrick had been driving your car.  Tell me how else I was supposed to look at it!" Catherine demanded as a horn blared behind them.

"You should have known better."

"You were hiding something.  You still are," Cat countered.

Just what we all need
More lies about a world that

"So you do blame me."

"Why was he driving your car?"

Natalie sighed at that, "because his was acting up and he was picking Tina up at school."

"Which you usually do."

"I had a doctor's appointment! Rick made me go to it," Natalie answered defensively as she crossed her arms over her chest and stared out of the window.

"Convenient."

"Not at the moment," Natalie sighed as she nervously scratched at the back of her neck.  "I was having trouble keeping meals down the last few weeks.  He was. . . Warrick was worried and pushed me to see a doctor.  I went to Dr. Thornhart's today," she paused.  "Believe me, I wish. . ." she shook her head.

"Thornhart, huh?" Catherine asked, recognizing the name as belonging to a local and well respected OB/GYN.  "What did he have to say?"

"He wanted to run some tests."

"Including. . ?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry, Mig.  I know you two had wanted. . ."

"He'd be so happy.  I mean, I hadn't even let myself believe. . ." she inhaled sharply as she hugged herself and rocked slightly in the seat.  "G-d it should've been me.  Why wasn't it me?"

"Asking that particular why isn't going to change anything," Catherine commented as she turned a corner, then added.  "You know that I couldn't bring myself to commit to the idea that you did this?" she asked as she looked over at the younger woman.

"That's reassuring," Natalie muttered sarcastically.

"I can't help it if I think you're hiding something! That you always have been! If you want to know the truth, yeah, I've always known that what ever it was that you were hiding would end up hurting Warrick.  I just never thought that it would almost get him killed!"

"No, it should've gotten me killed.  I should've never listened to McBaine," she muttered.

"About what?"

"Trying to trick me into telling you my deep dark secret, Cat? Why the hell don't you just ask me what it is!"

"All right, then, what are you hiding?" Catherine asked as she pulled into a spot in the hospital's parking lot and glared at her passenger's profile.

"It's that until Warrick I had shitty taste in men.  Of course that time I didn't see it.  I thought the only thing wrong with him was that he still had a thing for my sister.  Boy was I wrong.  I married him.  I married him and didn't even know that he had a gambling problem, or at least not how bad it was.  I mean, I suspected.  But he promised me.  Promised me that he'd stop.  That he wouldn't bet on me again.  We were here, in Vegas, for a competition he pushed me into.  It was our honeymoon.  The fact that I didn't throw the game made some people angry.  I thought he was killed because of me.  Because he traded himself for me.  They were angry that I didn't pay off his debts, so they came after me.  I didn't even know he had them. . . John talked me into going into the Witness Protection Program after a friend of mine was almost killed driving my car!

That, Catherine, is my deep dark secret.  My secret is that I wasn't always Meghan Davis.  That I used to be someone else! And you're right because it did hurt Warrick.  It should've been me.  He should've come after me, but then again he has to know how painful this is for me.  He had to have known how this would be the embodiment of all my worse fears.  That it would bring up memories of Ben.  That taking Christina would bring up all the issues of my childhood and so called family life.  If anyone could've known it was him!"

"You recognized our suspect," Catherine said, grabbing onto the only piece of the tirade that she could process at the moment.

"How's this for irony for you? My dead husband apparently tried to kill my current one," Natalie asked as she stormed out of the car and towards the hospital, leaving Catherine to stare after her in shock.

Never was and never will be

Detective Jim Brass walked into the lab's break room in time to see FBI agent, John McBaine close his cell phone and threw it across the room.  "Guess you aren't getting us those answers, now are you?" he asked as he crossed the room to get a cup of coffee.

"Yeah," McBaine sighed as he clumped into a nearby chair.  "How is she holding up?"

"Willows is taking her back to the hospital.  That's about all I know.  By the way, thanks for the heads up that was in the program.  I can't tell you how much fun Gil and I had putting her in tears like that.  I mean we just live for moments like that," he answered sarcastically.

McBaine shook his head at that as he rubbed his forehead to try to stay the forthcoming headache.  "I wasn't sure it was relevant."

"Our main suspect happens to look like her dead husband, but it wasn't relevant?"

"I didn't want to say anything till I knew for sure.  I. . . I knew what it would do to her if it were him."

Brass's eyes narrowed at that as he took in the younger man.  "You really didn't know, did you?"

"I would have warned her if I did.  As it was, the warning I gave her wasn't enough."

"What warning?"

McBaine sighed as he dropped his hand: "that the gambling I was investigating when I first met her might have been back in existence."

"You have proof of that?"

"Other than this? Just an anonymous tip."

"You told her about it?"

"Wanted her to know why I was in town."

"You seem to care about her more than you should," Brass remarked.

"She was a friend, and I owed her," McBaine shrugged.  "I thought I had screwed up somehow and gotten Chris killed. I should've protected her--- them--- better.  And I didn't.  I let a man get killed on my watch and let her get hurt too."

"You two. . ?"

McBaine shook his head at the implication: "at most a flirtation.  Timing was never there or she just wanted. . . I don't know. . . to prove something.  That she was her own person, I guess.  Hell, I don't know if she ever even thought of me in that way."

"You going to be able to stay objective?"

"Are you?"

"Fine.  You've got a point.  Just know that if you fuck this up, you will be sorry."

"I already am."

Have you no shame? Don't you see me?
You know you've got everybody fooled

The Land View home of Asa Buchanan was filled with people.  Waiters in white jackets on loan from The Palace Hotel moved from influential person to influential person as deals and donations were made.  Smiling forcefully, the brunette moved towards the foyer.  This was in no way her forte.  She had never been much of a people person, preferring to spend time in her lab and with her experiments.

Reaching the staircase, she let out a sigh of relief as she grasped the banister and started up the stairs, only to gasp and freeze at what she saw as she rounded the curve in the staircase.  Cursing under her breathe, she spun around and hurried back down the stairs and into the party.  Shifting through the crowd, she managed to avoid contact with any of the other quests till she made it out onto the terrace.  Shivering slightly, she sunk onto a chaise and aloud a few tears to fall.

She supposed she shouldn't have been all too surprised.  With one exception, all the guys she had been interested in had wither been oblivious to her interest or had cheated on her.  Hell, this wasn't even the first time that he had.

She had dumped him for it the last time, and she should've kept to her decision.  Only he was so damned charismatic and repentant.  She supposed she should've realized it had more to do with her being a better piece of arm candy for him as he ran for office than Blair Crammer.

And why shouldn't he use her as a replacement when in some respects she was doing the same to him.  Because no matter how she tried to move on, they were never him.  Even moving across the country hadn't exorcised the man from her mind. . .

Look here she comes now
Bow down and stare in wonder
Oh how we love you
No flaws when you're pretending
But now I know she

Rev. Joseph Buchanan carefully extracted himself from on his church's biggest contributors and headed out to the terrace.  Seeing his brother's fiancé on the chaise trying to hide her tears he silently seethed.  He could never understand how Kevin could continue to destroy the women who loved him.

Shaking his head, he walked towards her and extracted a handkerchief from his pocket.  "What did he do now?" he asked as he held it out to her.

"Take a guess," she sighed as she looked up and accepted the piece of cloth and wiped at her tears haphazardly.

"Do I need to ask with whom?" he wondered as he sat down next to her.

"What do you think?"

Cursing slightly, Joe shook his head: "What are you going to do about it?"

"Same as last time, only I'm not going to let him pull be back into an unhealthy relationship again," she told him confidently.

"You sure?"

"Yeah.  The tears are. . ." she started as his cell phone rang.

"I uh. . ."

She laughed slightly at him: "usually it's mine.  Go ahead and take it."

"We're not done with this," Joe told him as he took out his phone and answered it professionally.  "Rev. Buchanan."

"Never am going to get used to you being a man of a cloth there, Joey," the voice on the other end of the line said.

"Fine.  Who is this?"

"Nick Stokes."

"Nick. . . Hell man, it's been years! What are you doing calling me? Everything ok with your family?" he asked once he placed who was calling him.

"Depends on which family you're asking about."

"I didn't realize you had more than one."

"I don't. . . at least not exactly.  Look, Joe, the reason I call has to do with a case I'm working on.  One of my co-workers has been shot.  He's in critical condition and his little girl was kidnapped."

"That's horrible, but I don't see what that has to do with me."

"To tell the truth, I'm not exactly sure myself.  My supervisor asked me to call you.  Mig--- another co-worker and my friend's wife--- apparently knows and asked for you."

"Do you know why?"

"No.  Grissom didn't say.  He just asked me to convince you to come."

"I've got a lot of stuff coming up here, Nick."

"Come on, man.  I've known and worked with Mig for about five years.  She's not taking this well at all.  If you being here is going to help I'll get on a plane and come out there and hog tie you if I have to.  And believe me, I know the way to get a way with it too."

Shaking his head, Joe chuckled: "Same old Nick.  Ok, ok, I'll come to. . . where are you anyway?"

"Vegas."

"Fine.  I'll come to Vegas."

"Tonight?"

"Nick, I've got stuff to do."

"And a private plane at your disposal, rich boy."

"All right, I'll make arrangements and call you back."

"Actually, I'll call you. I'm going to be buried under a ton of evidence and would prefer to keep my line open for case related stuff only."

"Fine.  Talk to you later," Joe finished as he disconnected the call and frowned at the phone.

"Everything ok?" the brunette asked.

Joe shrugged as he turned to face her, "weird call," he admitted then, looking at her came up with a plan.  "You used to work in Vegas, right?"

"Yeah, before I took the job here.  Why?"

"How'd you like to act as my tour guide for a few days? I mean, you did take the next few days off to go with Kevin on campaign rounds, right?"

"Gambling isn't going to help me much."

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what do you mean?"

"The guy who called me just now is a really old friend.  A co-worker of his was shot and his daughter was kidnapped.  The co-worker's wife asked for me for some reason, so I'm going out there."

Shaking her head, the brunette laughed slightly, "you want my 'guiding' abilities or my contacts, because I have to tell you I don't know if many of them are still good."

"I figured I'd give you time to think things out."

"I don't need time to 'think things out,'" she told him, annoyance clear in her voice.

"Fine then, time to cool off before you face off with Kevin."

"You do know that I can be extremely cool and collected."

"With dead bodies, not my brother."

"What can I say, he brings out the worse in me, but not for much longer."

"So you'll come with me?"

"You're relentless, you know that?" she asked with a slight laugh.  "Fine, I'll go with you and act as your 'tour guide.'" She conceded with a roll of her eyes.

"I'll go to the rectory and get a few things done and then pick you up at your place in about two hours."

"I'll meet you at the airfield in two hours," she countered as she rose.  "I can handle your brother if the need arises.  Thanks anyway," she added as she rose and started out.

Never was and never will be
You don't know how you've betrayed me
And somehow you've got everybody fooled

Natalie paced the waiting room, passing strangers that were sitting there lost in their own worries.  As she passed a table she eyed the salad that Catherine had left for her with distaste.  It wasn't so much the older woman's choice in foods as it was the fact that she knew that her stomach would rebel against anything she'd attempt to put in it.

Cursing under her breathe, she pivoted and retraced her steps trying to come to terms with what was happening in her life.

The Christian she had known wouldn't be capable of something like this. . .

"This so isn't helping," she muttered to herself.

"And talking to yourself is?" a voice asked causing her to turn and look at its owner.  The man in question was a short, balding, Italian who looked like he could've been on Wiseguy in his youth. "Brought you something to eat.  Figured you wouldn't be up to eating what this place passes off for food."

"Not up to eating much period," she replied with a shrug as she shoved her hands into her pant pockets.

"Well, it will keep," he shrugged.  "How about you? How are you doing?"

"I'm doing better than Warrick."

Shaking his head, he shrugged out of his leather jacket, "how can I help?"

"I was going to call. . ." she shook her head.  "We don't have enough money in evidence. . ."

"Perks of owning a casino include having a lot of money on hand."

"I can't guarantee. . ."

"I'm willing to take the chance," he cut off.

"Why?"

"What? You don't want me to?"

"No, I. . .I just don't understand.  Marco, you're always. . . why me? Why the interest and help for me?"

He shrugged at that, "I told you when you cocktailed for me; you remind me of someone I used to know."

"You loved her didn't you?"

"I cared about her," he deflected.

"What happened to her?"

"She married someone else.  A year or so later, she was dead."

"How?"

"What's that? Professional curiosity?"

"Just curiosity in general."

"She died of complications from an autoimmune disease," he told her softly.  "It was a real shame.  She was a star on the rise."

"It's always a shame.  Always what ifs by those left behind."

"Or those just waiting?"

"Yeah," she admitted before turning her head and staring at the wall.

"I. . . I'll leave you then.  Eat when you're ready.  Call me with the details of how much and when" He told her as he rose, pausing to put a hand on her shoulder, "and don't give up hope."

"I don't know if I have any left."

"Then you can borrow some of that too.  Chin up, Kid.  You're a survivor," he added as he shrugged into his jacket.

"I'm not the one who's in danger of not surviving."

"There are different types of survival, kid.  You know that.  Same as I do."

"Maybe I'm just tired of it.  What's surviving worth if there's nothing to survive for?"

"That's something you need to answer for yourself," he told her sadly before walking out.  He was tempted to look back, but he wasn't a man who ever looked back.  Instead, he continued down the hall, onto the elevator, down another hall and out of the building.  As he crossed the parking lot he unclipped his cell phone from his belt and dialed.  "Yeah, tell 'em it's Marco Dane calling about the Brown case. . ."

Without the mask where will you hide?
Can't find yourself, lost in your lie

She bit her lip as she looked at the half-full suitcase mentally questioning how she had allowed Joey to talk her into going to Vegas with him.  It was a place and time she had wanted to leave being and she had thought that she had been fairly successful at doing just that for the last eight years or so.  Shaking her head slightly, she turned and caught sight of the plant in the window.  "Yeah, you've really left Vegas behind.  No matter how many times you tell yourself otherwise, the evidence saids that plant is more than a reminder of when to let go or you would've let it go."

Scratching the side of her nose, she returned to her bureau to continue packing, aware that she was making more than she would need, and for some reason not caring.  After all, maybe it was karmic justice.  She had left Las Vegas for Land View.  Why not repeat the process in reverse?

Laughing at her odd train of thought, she tossed the last few things into the case and headed to the bathroom to change and grab her toiletries.

When she exited 15 minutes later, dressed considerably more comfortably in a pair of jeans and LVCSI t-shirt, she found Kevin emptying her suitcase.  "You have some sort of problem?" she asked as she glared at him.

Looking at her, he frowned: "No, but apparently you do.  These things aren't appropriate."

"They are for where I'm going," she shot back as she tossed her toiletries into the bag.

"That's why you need to talk to my people instead of brushing them off," he sighed as he walked towards the bureau and dropped her clothes onto the top of it.

"I'm not talking to your people."

"Honey. . ."

"I'm not your 'honey,' Kevin," she told him crossly as she brushed past and grabbed back her clothes.

"What the hell is wrong with you? You disappear from an important fundraiser and now you want to wear jeans and T-shirts on campaign stops," he demanded as she crossed the room and started to repack.

"There's nothing wrong with me.  In fact, I'm finally setting things right with myself.  See, I'm not going with you. I am no longer going to be a trophy to help you get elected," she answered calmly as she closed the suitcase, zippered it, and turned to face him.

"What are you talking about?"

"I mean, our engagement is over.  Talk to your people about that," she said stiffly as she pulled off her engagement ring and tossed it at him.

"Just like that? You're throwing some sort of tantrum and I'm supposed to what? Bed you not to go? Promise funding for some per project of yours?"

"First of all, I'm not throwing some sort of tantrum, nor am I like the other women you've been with.  Second, its things like this that are making me walk out.  You have no idea who I am or what I want, Kevin, and apparently, I don't know that much about you either or I wouldn't have been taken in by you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just I finally processed all the evidence.  I'll even lay it out for you.  I'm the type of woman you should be with.  Smart.  Independent. Well-respected in my field.  I'm married enough because, well your political career couldn't take another divorce and I make you look more settled than bachelorhood would.

Only you don't want me, at least not alone. 

You want my image.

The person you want is too tarnished.

So you sneak around with her instead."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't," she said sarcastically as she rolled her eyes. "After all, staircases at you grandfather's during fundraisers are oh so private," she added as she pulled her suitcase off of the bed and started towards the door, pushing past him in the process.

"Sara, you don't understand."

"No, Kevin, you don't.  Have your stuff out of here when I get back."

"Sara, I need you," he protested as he grabbed her arm and spun her around.

Looking pointedly from his hand to his face and back again, she waited till he dropped his hand.  Then, looking him right in the eye, she answered:  "my image and myself are two different things.  You want my image, not me."

"Sara, I love you."

"I guess the sad thing is you believe that," she sighed.  "Eve if you did, it comes down to the fact that I don't love you.  Not that way."

"Don't do this.  Not while you're mad."

"That's the thing," she shrugged.  "I'm not mad.  I'd say what I am is resigned."

"I'd call it cold.  Frigid even," Kevin struck out angrily.

"So my frigidity is why you went after Blair.  Glad to know," Sara answered as she backed up.

"You know that's not what I meant."

"Whatever, Kevin.  And just so you know, I mean it when I say it's over.  You want Blair and her heat, then fine.  You don't that's fine also.  But you and me, that's over."

"That's what you said last time too."

"And believe me, I regret not listening to myself then.  Seems I've always had a problem walking way.

Well, you know what Kevin.  This is me walking away once and for all."

I know the truth now

John McBaine walked into the surgical waiting room and frown slightly at the back of his former charge and friend.  Shaking his head, he crossed the empty room to where she stood staring out of the window.  "You need to eat," he said gruffly as he came up behind her.

"Why does everyone think that eating's an answer?" she asked, refusing to look at him.  "Because all it's going to do is make a return appearance."

"I think that falls under the category of TMI," he groused, lapsing them into silence for a couple of minutes.  "Will you at least sit down before you drop?" he finally asked.

"Like you'd care?"

"You know that I do."

"I used to think you did.  Now, well, now I'm not so sure, she admitted as she leaned her forehead against the glass of the window in front of her.  "I'm tired, John.  I'm so damned tired."

"Then come sit."

"I don't mean. . ." she sighed.  "When's it going to end? Where?"

"When's what going to end?"

"The fighting? When do I get to stop fighting? When do I get to just be?"

"Is the alternative worth giving up right now?" he wondered, worry evident in his tone.

She sighed at the as she shifted her head enough to look at him, "I guess I sound. . " she shook her head as she straightened up.  "I'm not giving up on them.  They're everything to me.  I just. . . I'm not like Vickie, you know that.

In some ways, I took pride in that.  I face my problems.  I work my ass off to get to where I need to be.  I never got handouts and now. . .I can't help but wonder how she did it.  How she went one when Ben. . .

I don't know what would be worse now for him to die or to be caught in suspended animation.

And Tina. . . what if he disappears with her? I promised myself she'd have it better than I did.  That I'd never let some do to her. . . I failed.  He took her because of me.

He hurt Warrick because of me and I can't do anything to fix it.

Time's running out and there are no leads. 

If I can't convince Joe to help, I won't have the money to pay the ransom, if I can even convince the department to let me make the drop.  Because we all know how many things can go wrong either way.  Hell, I don't even know if she's. . ." she shook her head and wiped at the tears flowing down her cheeks unable to finish that thought even as she continued into another.  "I just. . . I can't be stoic.  I can't pretend that this isn't tearing me apart! I want to break something the same way that this is breaking me! I'm so damned tired of keeping it together and being strong!"

"Then don't be," a voice said from behind her, as McBaine could only stare at her in shock.  "Let us be strong for you," it added as Jim Brass came towards her, "Come on.  You wouldn't be the first victim to fall apart on me," he added gently.

Choking back a sob, she nodded as she let him awkwardly pull her into an embrace as she sobbed onto his shoulder. . .

I know who you are
And I don't love you anymore

"She's not Meg Davis?" Catherine demanded from the doorway, causing Grissom to look up from the papers he was reading.

"So much for flashing lights," he grumbled before looking down at the assignment list he was trying to complete.

"Gil," she started with more than a touch of aggravation in her voice as she moved further into the room.

"What do you want, Catherine?"

"Enough information to do my job," she snarked as she moved closer to his desk.  "How long have you known?"

"I found out in interrogation," he admitted distractedly.

"Thanks for sharing.  You do realize that if you hide anything else I'm pulling you all from the case."

Grissom looked up and glared at her in response to her threat.  "One, it wasn't my place to say anything.  She's in the Witness Protection Program and I haven't found out the whole reasoning for her placement in it from McBaine."

"Something to do with her presumed dead husband and gambling."

"So when were you going to share that?"

"I just did, and that doesn't let you off the hook.  You've opened us up to all sorts of scrutiny."

"You want to go there with me? Because I can list many a time you've done that in the past.  There's the conflicts of interest, the unauthorized DNA tests, the checks, the questionable assigning of staff to undermine their positions or stroke your own ego."

"That was a long time ago Gil, don't throw it up to me now!"

"Then don't go on a power trip with me! I didn't get  to tell you because you took her back to the hospital before I could."

"I've been back for a while and you didn't come looking."

"You really think that I have the time to go looking for you? I'm down two CSIs.  I have that crime scene to process not to mention countless others.  My senior investigators are assigned to Rick's case.  The labs are backlogged.  All the over time for the month has been used, and the only other over time I'm going to be able to wrangle will be for Rick's case because if the Sheriff doesn't ok it and it gets out, which you know it will sooner or later, it will become a public relations nightmare.  I have the press breathing down my neck.  The DA's office in an uproar over rescheduling court appearances and changing witness lists so that people can cover Rick and Meg's testimony, and you now you threatening to make things personal, because we both now why you're really threatening to remove nightshift from the case," he said pointedly, "Not to mention that I can't pick up some of the slack myself because I can't spend extended periods of time at scenes since I don't know when my hearing my blink out and endanger myself or someone else.

Oh, and contrary to popular belief I am not a robot. 

I do have some feelings about the fact that one of my best friends is currently lying on an operating table, his daughter is missing, and wife if falling apart.  And it really is not thrilling me that I can only act as their supervisor at the moment--- even to the point of pulling her in here to question her because G-d knows the evidence was certainly pointing there for a few minutes. 

But, hey, you're right.  I should just pushed all that aside because you're so much busier than I am and I really should have sort you out to tell you that she once went by a different name and blames herself for what happened!"

"Fine.  I get your point.  I apologize," Catherine started as she put up her hands to hold off more.  "I guess I just misjudged things."

"You've misjudged a lot of things over the years, Cath," he sighed as he rose.  "I have to give out assignments for the night and then check on how things are progressing in the labs."

"I'll check the labs.  You go get something to eat.  Check in as their friend, not as their supervisor," she suggested, hoping he'd accept the offer as the peace offer she meant it as.  "Besides, you're getting too old to be working trips," she added, trying to inject a bit of the camaraderie they had shared years ago into the conversation.

Grissom shook his head, gracing her with a sad smile: "I was too old eight years ago," he sighed, reminding her of a case that had changed the entire time and their relationships before walking pass her and out of the room to hand out the evening's assignments.

After all, no matter what was going on in their lives, crime was a constant.  Aside from 'the Brown' case, they also had a homicide at a local no-tell motel, a possible suicide, a probable sexual assault, and a breaking and entering to solve. . .

It never was and never will be
You don't know how you've betrayed me and
Somehow you've got everybody fooled

It never was and never will be
You're not real and you can't save me and
Somehow now you're everybody's fool