Cardinality
Summary: A serial killer is stalking the citizens of Las Vegas. Started out as a case file but the G/S aspect demanded equal representation. This is the edited version for this site. The complete version can be found at my web site.
Rating: R for subject matter
A/N: No real spoilers. Many thanks to Burked for teaching me how to be a serial killer, among many other things.
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, certain characters would be getting more screen time – together!
"I cannot help it; in spite of myself, infinity torments me." – Alfred de Musset
Chapter 16
Grissom gave Catherine an irritated look when she breezed into the lab later that morning. She raised a curious eyebrow before leaning against the table, watching as he turned his attention back to measuring the bugs in front of him.
"Hey. Went back to mush-man's house. Don't know how that cop could tell the place had been rifled. Guy was a slob."
"Did you waste an entire shift reaching that conclusion?"
Catherine gave him a confused look as he jotted down his measurements in his journal, wondering what was causing his uncharacteristic mood.
"Well, no," she chuckled. "I managed to find his warfarin prescription. It was between the cushions on his couch. I counted how many pills were left. Assuming he never missed a dose, or didn't screw it up, he took the last pill twenty seven days ago."
"What else did you miss the first time through?"
She opened her mouth in surprise, but shut it before her initial response came out. Grissom had been her friend for years; he'd covered for her on a number of occasions. If he needed to vent, she could take a few jabs.
"Hey, as far as I knew he was a DFO. There was nothing to suggest he'd been murdered. It was an elderly man with a terminal heart condition," she said softly.
"Your job is to collect the evidence, Catherine. All of it. Not to make spot judgments. You should have told me about the writing at the crime scene immediately. I can't keep covering up your mistakes," he snapped.
Catherine blinked as her amusement at his mood quickly evaporated.
"Whoa. Did your favorite bug crawl up your ass and die?"
"I'm serious," he shot back, looking up from making notes.
"So am I. What's the deal?" she demanded.
"The deal is I'm the boss. You come to me when you come across potentially case-breaking evidence."
"Hey. Did you recognize any of that writing as math? Or see how it tied in to the signature killer? Then how would have telling you have helped? We still would have had to wait until the DNA results came in to know he had been the first victim."
Grissom glared at her briefly, before setting aside his calipers. Running his hands over his beard, he let out a sigh.
"You should have told me, Catherine. I'm the supervisor. That wasn't your decision to make," he stated firmly.
"Honestly, I was going to call you out on this case because of the bugs. But then I remembered you hadn't slept in days. You were barely coherent. Didn't think it would do any good to have you spread out over the highway," she said hotly.
"You don't have to worry about me. I can do my job. I need you to do your job. All of it, completely and thoroughly," he replied.
"Hey, I think my record speaks for itself."
"Your record practically sings, Catherine, but I wouldn't fall back on it if I were you," he said sarcastically.
Catherine stared at him for a long moment, a pained expression crossing her face.
"That lab explosion was a mistake. You can't hold that against me," she said, hurt that he would throw that back at her.
"I wasn't even thinking about that," he said.
"What are you talking about?" she demanded. When he refused to answer, she moved to stand directly beside him.
"Look, you're not exactly the model of forensics virtue yourself. Who helped you when you got kicked off the Strip Strangler case? I could have had your job then, but I placed our friendship first. Now tell me what the hell is going on. I deserve that much."
"Catherine, you can't keep pushing the limits. Sara told me what happened when she was investigating Eddie's death," he eventually replied.
"I can't believe she bitched to you about that," Catherine said as she started pacing the room. She never suspected Sara would stoop to using her position with Grissom to get revenge. "I was upset. My ex was killed, my daughter nearly died, the killer got away, and she's bitching because I insulted her!"
"Catherine, what the hell are you talking about?"
Hearing his cool tone, she turned to face him. Grissom fixed her with a steely gaze. Despite his outward calm, a facial tic revealed the depth of his anger.
"I was upset. I insulted Sara's skills. What are you talking about?"
"Sara told me that you had interfered with the case. She never 'bitched' about your comments. I can't believe you'd think she'd do that."
"I don't. That's why it surprised me," Catherine insisted.
"I can't believe you even insulted her to begin with."
"I was upset. People say stupid stuff when they're stressed," she said pointedly. When he didn't respond, she moved back to stand beside him. Resting a hand on his shoulder, she let out a ragged breath when she felt his tension. Her own irritation morphed to concern.
She knew Grissom preferred to avoid emotional issues, but he'd been faced with a variety of them recently. Recognizing his discomfort, she gave him a friendly look.
"What's wrong?"
"It's nothing," he muttered.
"Try again."
Grissom twirled the calipers in his hand. Sara's comments from earlier bothered him, not because they had been cruel, but because she was correct. He had let the others get away with more than he should have. Blaming Catherine for taking advantage of that wouldn't help him work things out with Sara.
After a long moment, Grissom turned on the stool to face her. He wasn't apologetic, but he wasn't as angry as he'd been earlier.
"Sara's upset that I pulled her off this case. She thinks I'm treating her differently than the rest of the team. She pointed out the times I've let others work cases where they had a personal involvement."
"Ouch," she said, giving him a sympathetic look. "If you give her the same slack you give the rest of us, you can be accused of favoritism."
"And it's not fair to Sara to make her follow rules the rest of you tend to ignore."
"You know, you have to be careful how you handle this," Catherine said, deciding it was best to ignore his latest jab.
"Oh, trust me, I know," he replied.
"I don't mean with Sara. No one's got a handle on Atwater yet. Keep a low profile until you know how he's going to react."
"Yeah. If that's even something I have to worry about any more," he mumbled.
"Hell, she waited this long for you to make a move. Sara's not going to cut and run on your first offense."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Grissom sighed, avoiding her gaze when she chuckled.
"Find out anything else at the victim's house?" he asked, returning the conversation back to the safe ground of work.
"Brass is talking with the trooper. They've gotten the names of his family. No one lives in the immediate area. Doesn't have much in the way of friends. The victim moved to Nevada sixteen years ago. Up until about seven years ago, he worked part-time as a bookkeeper at a distribution center outside of Ripley."
"Okay. See if any of that ties in with the other victims. I'm going to the hospital later to see if Brandenburg recognizes anyone in the photos."
"I'll tag along. I haven't had a chance to talk to him since he was poisoned," she said, heading towards to the door.
Grissom ran his hand over his temples as he processed the conversation. He had no idea Catherine had insulted Sara. Given their respective personalities, he wasn't surprised. Catherine would have been explosive after the accident, and Sara wasn't the type to let a personal jab interfere with work.
Grissom found himself wondering if there was more going on around the lab that he should know about. He had always knew pursuing a relationship with Sara would complicate his work life, but he had no idea the degree.
He had wanted to talk to her over lunch, but had gotten wrapped up in processing the evidence. By the time he'd noticed he was hungry, she'd already eaten. Turning back to his bugs, Grissom decided to ask her over for breakfast. They would have time to talk before visiting hours started at the hospital.
Despite his best intentions, he didn't break away from the evidence until Brass stopped by to see if he was ready to leave. Stopping by his office, he found the paperwork Sara had completed neatly arranged on his desk.
Grissom closed his eyes briefly as he gathered the folders he needed, wondering how angry Sara was. She hadn't even stopped in to say good-bye before she left.
Sara entered the hospital room warily, uncertain whether her presence would be welcomed. She flashed Max a nervous smile as she walked over the chair where he sat sipping juice while reading the paper.
"Hey."
Looking up, he reached over to drag the other chair closer to his, giving her a friendly grin in response.
"Good morning, Sara."
"How are you?"
"Physically – much better. I hope they'll let me go home soon. Emotionally – my ego took a beating, but I've been told it's healthy. It'll probably survive."
"I'm sorry," she said contritely.
"Don't be. You can't help how you feel. Besides, it's not like you left me at the altar," he said with a gentle laugh. "Still friends?"
"Yeah," she said, smiling as she finally dropped into the chair. "I'd like that."
"Good. Maybe you could start by telling me the truth," he said, giving her a mock-stern glare as he waved the newspaper. "The paper and the TV news both report the 'Pied Piper' is dead, yet I still have a police guard outside my room. You're still wearing a bulletproof vest. And Jim Brass is coming over later to show me some pictures."
Sara gave him a half-shrug. "Carrasco wasn't the killer," she said quietly. "We think the real killer intercepted him in the parking lot of my apartment complex, poisoned our food, and then forced him to shoot himself."
"And the evidence they found in his house?"
"Planted."
"Frame someone else for the murders so he can get off," Brandenburg said, giving his head a nod. "You don't want the killer to know that he was unsuccessful until after you've caught him. Any chance of that happening soon?"
"I have no idea," Sara muttered angrily. "Got pulled from the case."
"Wouldn't that be normal?" he asked, smiling when she glared at him.
"Yeah, but …, it's nothing."
"Hey, friends, remember? If I were to take a guess, I would say you're having problems with your boss."
"Not problems. Not really," she sighed. "Just trying to figure out how to work together."
"What's the official policy?"
"There really isn't one. As far as I know, this is the first time a supervisor has been involved with an employee at the lab."
"So, there's no rules or guidelines for him to follow. I can see where this could be hard on him. Didn't you say he was socially inept?"
"No," Sara stated, fixing him with an annoyed look "I said he didn't have the best social skills."
"So, you have a complicated situation and a socially inept boss," he said, grinning and giving her a wink. "I don't have to like him. Even in the best of circumstances, when there would be guidelines he could follow, he would have trouble."
"I know that. And why are we talking about this?" Sara asked, feeling a mixture of confusion and annoyance.
"Because I'm your friend. Relax. There's no ulterior motive here. I'm not hoping to stay in the running. If I've learned one thing about you, it's that you're not a quitter. You're not going to give up on him easily."
"No."
"Now, do you want some advice from your friend who isn't socially inept?"
Sara shook her head as Max set aside his newspaper and leaned forward.
Sara's laughter was the first thing Grissom noticed when they entered the hospital room. He caught a quick glance of the two of them leaning forward in their chairs, Sara's hand resting on the mathematician's arm.
Looking up, Sara pulled back when she saw Grissom's expression, her smile dying away as he stared at her. Brass and Catherine shifted uncomfortably, but Brandenburg merely smiled at his visitors.
"Dr. Grissom," he said cordially.
"Dr. Brandenburg," he replied politely, finally breaking eye contact with Sara.
"Hey, Max. How are you feeling?" Catherine asked, hoping to lighten the mood.
"Much better, thank you. I take it you brought the photos for me to examine?"
"Yeah," Brass said, walking forward with a folder. "Glad you're feeling better."
"Thanks. Hold on, Sara, and stay a minute," he said when she got up to leave. Hopping to the bed, he waved her over to sit beside him. "You were with me that night. You're better at observing people. You may have seen something I missed."
Sara cast a nervous glance to Grissom then back to Max. She had mentioned how difficult it was letting go of the case; was Max trying to include her in a round-about manner? If this was part of his plan to help smooth things over with Grissom, she didn't think much of it.
It was Brass who nodded his assent, moving over to take one of the vacated chairs. Catherine took a seat on the end of the bed, but Grissom remained standing near the far wall, keeping a sharp eye on the mathematician.
For his part, Brandenburg examined each photo carefully before passing them on to Sara. Reaching the end of the pile, he gave the law enforcement officers a shrug. "Sorry."
"Don't worry about it, Max," Brass said.
"If you're not too tired, Dr. Brandenburg, could you examine some other photos for us?"
"Of course, Dr. Grissom. What are they?"
"This came from another crime scene. We're trying to figure out if there's any connection between it and the other victims. The writing is a mixture of symbols, Hebrew letters and a biblical name: Abel."
"Niels," Brandenburg replied immediately, reaching out for the folder.
"I don't remember seeing that in the King James version," Brass quipped.
"Niels Abel was a famous mathematician. He made some remarkable contributions considering he died before he was thirty. He did a lot of work in pure mathematics. Yes."
"What?" Sara asked, darting her eyes to Grissom. Technically, she shouldn't be present for this part of the conversation, but he made no move to ask her to leave. Her supervisor and would-be suitor avoided her look, focusing his attention on the mathematician.
"These symbols here – they're used to designate different types of groups, a mathematical construct. Abelian groups, named after Abel, are a specific type. A lot of these symbols are used in set theory," he said, flipping over to the next photo.
"How does that tie in with the Hebrew letters?" Catherine asked in confusion.
"Where are they?" he asked with a thoughtful expression.
She reached over to flip through the files to hand him a photo, prompting him to smile and nod.
"Cardinality," he replied.
"We talking Catholics or little red birds?" Brass asked.
"Counting," Grissom replied, an eyebrow raised quizzically.
"In a sense. Basically, cardinality refers to the number of members in a set. The cardinality of the letters of the alphabet would be twenty six."
"I hated new math," Brass muttered. "Never could help my daughter with her homework."
Brandenburg gave him an evil grin before continuing.
"The Hebrew letter aleph is used to measure transfinite cardinality. It's a measure of the degree of infinity."
"The degree of infinity?" Catherine asked, giving him doubtful look.
"Yes."
"In English, Max, please," Brass muttered.
"Some infinities are bigger than others. Cardinality measures how big. The numbers in the subscript beside the aleph indicate how big of an infinity you're talking about."
"Some infinities are bigger than others," Brass repeated slowly.
"That's right," Brandenburg said, clearly amused.
"Infinity? As in, as big as you can possibly get?"
"Correct."
"It's as big as you can get, but some are bigger than others."
"Exactly."
"Don't tell me this makes sense to you?" the detective shot at Grissom who had started nodding his head.
"The nature of infinity has been at the center of philosophical debate for ages. The idea one infinity could encompass other infinities has long been considered."
"I'm officially lost," the detective groaned.
"I think I get it, Jim. Look at the counting numbers: zero, one, two, three. Okay? Well, there's an infinite number of them. But there's also an infinite number of even numbers and an infinite number of odd numbers. You combine the two, and you'll get a bigger set," Catherine said excitedly.
"No," the mathematician replied kindly, giving her a shrug. "All three of those have the same cardinality."
"But there's twice as many numbers as there are odd or even numbers," she said crestfallen.
"In your example, all three sets are denumerable," he replied, chuckling when Brass groaned again. "All it means is that they are countable. In theory, you can arrange the numbers in a logical way so that you could count them all."
"Okay," she said doubtfully.
"No, I think I get it," Sara said. "In any of those sets, you could pick a specific element. Since they are ordered, you'd then be able to find a corresponding number in one of the other sets."
"Exactly," Brandenburg said, giving her a smile.
"So, how do you get bigger infinities then?" Grissom asked.
"There are sets of numbers where you can't list all of the members. The set of irrational numbers is one such set. And Jim, an irrational number is just a number that can't be expressed as a fraction."
"Yeah. Sure."
"Trust me," the mathematician chuckled. "Anyway, no matter how you try to list the irrational numbers, you can always find a new one that isn't included in your listing. So, the cardinality of the irrationals is higher."
Brass dropped his head into his hands, letting out a groan. "This is insane."
Brandenburg laughed at the detective as he slid into a more comfortable position on the bed. "Actually, the mathematician who developed the idea of cardinality, Georg Cantor, spent the rest of his life in an insane asylum."
"Why am I not surprised?"
"He was trying to prove his continuum theorem. Here it is," he said, pointing out a section of the photograph. "He thought there was a numerical relationship between the different cardinalities."
"Do I even want to know if he was right?" Brass asked hesitantly.
"Well, about one hundred years later, Kurt Gödel proved it was impossible to prove or disprove the continuum theorem."
"I think I'm getting a headache," the detective stated.
"Of course, Gödel went insane, too," Brandenburg said, pausing to look at Sara with a playful grin. "He was convinced someone was poisoning his food, and he starved himself to death."
"Infinity drives you crazy, huh?" Catherine joked.
Brandenburg gave her a thoughtful look. "Infinity is a concept that makes perfect sense as long as you don't think too much about it. Rather like love, in a way."
"Oh?" Catherine asked in amusement.
"They both drive you crazy. Just when you think you start to understand it, you find out it's more confusing than you realized. Then, when you think you can't get in any deeper, you find you can," he said, turning to give Sara a friendly look. "None of the rules apply anymore."
"Really?" Grissom asked, feeling his temper rise when Sara gave the mathematician a grin, enjoying some sort of private joke.
"Yes. The basic rules of mathematics no longer apply when you start dealing with infinite sets. It's not very intuitive. There's even a number of people who still doubt the existence of infinity. They're the mathematical equivalent of the Flat-Earth Society."
"Do you see a connection between the other cases?" Grissom asked.
"I don't think this was done by the same person. The equations left at the other scenes were uncommon, but not especially unusual. This is very esoteric, not to mention far more complex. There's no mistakes that I can see anywhere in these equations, unlike the other scenes."
Grissom nodded. The mathematician's suspicions matched the conclusion QD had drawn earlier.
"What does this have to do with tarot cards though?" Catherine asked with a bewildered expression.
"Actually, Cantor picked the aleph to represent cardinality because of that. Interest in mysticism was widespread in Europe at the time he developed the concept. I believe the university library has some books on the connection in the math history section."
"And the Magician has an infinity symbol on it," Grissom pointed out.
Brandenburg started to respond, before staring at the other professor for a moment. Reaching around Sara, he grabbed the phone, quickly punching in a number.
"May, when you get a chance, bring my files on the police case to me in the hospital," he said quickly.
"What's up?" Sara asked him after he hung up.
"I think I have an idea what the killer was trying to do with the math equations. I need to double-check it though," he said, giving her an odd look. "Let me get back to you."
Grissom was rinsing the last of his breakfast dishes when the knocking started. Letting out a sigh, he placed his arms on the counter. He'd left the hospital directly, ignoring Catherine's attempt to speak to him.
The entire situation had been confusing for him. Logically, he knew Sara wouldn't have changed her mind about giving him a chance, but seeing how at ease she was with Brandenburg had made him jealous.
That had made him feel worse, since he knew Sara wasn't the type to play games with him. So he had let her stay during the discussion of the case as a type of peace offering. He knew she would be interested in the case, even if it was unlikely she could help with the photos.
When the mathematician made his comments about love, it seemed like he and Sara had shared a private conversation, and that had made him nervous. On top of his earlier confrontation with Catherine, it had been too much for him to handle.
At the second knock, he pushed off the counter and headed to the door. Catherine wouldn't leave until she ready. Ignoring her wouldn't do any good. Opening the door, his scowl changed to a look of confusion when he found Sara on his doorstep.
"Can I come in?" she asked when he made no move.
"Of course," he said, heading back to the kitchen to retrieve cups of coffee. Sitting down on the couch, he stared at the steam coming from his cup. He knew he needed to explain his contradictory position to her, but wasn't sure where to start.
"I was going to ask you to join me for breakfast, but you had already left work," he ventured. "You left without saying goodbye."
"You were talking to Archie about the case. I didn't want to interrupt. And I was going to invite you over for breakfast, too."
Grissom gave her a curious look, setting down his mug and turning to face her.
"You were?"
"Yeah. I'm not angry with you; you know that, don't you?"
"I wasn't sure," he admitted.
"I'm not. Like I said, you confuse me at times. I don't understand why you wouldn't let me help with the case."
"I'm not being hypocritical, Sara. It's hard to explain."
"Try," she said, reaching over to take his hand. "Please. I can't help if I don't know why you do things."
"I don't want you to get hurt, but it's only a matter of time. I'm trying to minimize that," he said, running his thumb over the back of her hand, being careful of the bruising.
"I don't understand."
"Our being involved will come back to hurt you. Somebody, some time in the future, is going to hold it against you. They'll try to say you're sleeping your way into the job."
"I don't care what others think, Grissom. You should know that about me."
"It's more than what they think. It's what they can do," he said softly. "If I give the others some slack, and it causes a problem, it would reflect poorly on me. If I did the same with you, it'd look like you took advantage of this. It could cost you your career. I wouldn't do that to you."
"Okay," she said, giving him an understanding shrug. "I can see where you're coming from."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I don't agree, but I won't push it. I'll stay off this case if it'll make it easier on you."
"Are we okay?" Grissom asked tentatively.
"Of course. Even though I think you're being overprotective," she said kindly.
"This case was bothering you. I saw your reaction in the morgue. The victim was alone, consumed by bugs. You're too close," he stated kindly.
"It always bothers me when we get that type of case. Sorry, I don't like bugs or rotting bodies. But I've never let it interfere with my work."
"True," Grissom said, taking off his glasses and running his hand over his beard. "But you have a personal stake in this case. You know that would disqualify you automatically."
"Well, the same could be said of you. You're investigating the killer who put your … employee," she said with a smirk, "in the hospital. You going to hand the case to Ecklie?"
"I considered it."
"What?" Sara asked, openly surprised.
"Processing your apartment was difficult. I was having a hard time staying detached. I thought about giving the case to Conrad. Despite his personality, he is a good scientist."
Sara's expression softened as she watched him. The admission had been difficult for him to make. She doubted if she'd be able to remain completely detached if she ever had to process a case where Grissom had been hurt.
"Look, Grissom, I'm not asking you for any special consideration," she said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.
"I know that," he insisted. "I'd never have been willing to try this if I thought you would pull something like that."
"Well, that goes both ways. I don't want you giving me any leeway, but you can't try to protect me, either."
Running his free hand over his face, he gave Sara a weak smile. "Now you see why I was hesitant to get involved. I really don't know what to do."
"Don't worry. I know we have to feel this out. It's not going to be the last time we have a problem. Trust me, okay?"
"I'll try."
"That's all I'm asking for," she said, smiling at him. "But I need you to talk to me, let me know why you're doing things. I want this to work between us."
"I don't want you to ever regret this decision," he said softly. "I've never done this before. Be patient with me as I figure out what to do."
"I know. It's hard figuring out the work scene."
"That's not what I really meant," Grissom said, getting up to walk towards the kitchen. He felt she deserved to know the truth, but it was a big admission for him to make. Her reaction could be painful.
"I've never been in love before, at least not romantically. All of this is new to me. I can't get a handle on it."
When Sara moved to stand beside him, he flashed her a nervous smile. He had no idea how she'd react to his bombshell. Would she understand why this was so hard for him? Or would the knowledge that he'd gone nearly half a century without feeling a basic human emotion scare her off?
She reached up to run her fingers through his hair. Seeing his anxiety, but not knowing how to reassure him with words, she wrapped her arms around him. Grissom relaxed, dropping his head to rest his cheek against hers. They stayed in a gentle embrace for a long time, swaying together.
Sara was the first to lean back. She ran her fingers through the curls at the base of his neck, her eyes showing him nothing but acceptance.
"I love you, too, Grissom."
He leaned in to kiss her, reveling in the feel of her lips against his. It started gently, growing bolder with each successive kiss as their hands began roaming over each other. He moaned when she opened her mouth to him, their tongues joining in the exploration.
Grissom ran his hands gently across her body. When he slid his hands down to her hips, pulling her against him, Sara broke off the kiss reluctantly.
"I didn't mean to rush you," he said.
"You didn't. You wouldn't want to continue, trust me. The bruises are ugly. You don't want to see them," she said, giving him a bashful look before walking back to the couch.
Grissom followed her, wrapping his arms around her tenderly. Brushing gentle kisses on her neck, he leaned in close to her ear. "You're beautiful," he whispered.
Turning her around, he kept eye contact as he reached for the hem of her shirt. She blushed and shrugged, making no move to stop him when he removed it.
He ran his fingers gingerly along her collarbone, pausing to run his fingers around the edges of the bruising. "Does it hurt?"
She shook her head, avoiding eye contact, until he his fingers began to roam over her body.
The bruising was more extensive than he imagined, but did little to detract from her beauty. Instead, it served as a reminder of how close he came to losing her. Even with her in front of him half-nude, he found it hard to believe she had picked him.
Lifting her head to face him, he brushed a soft kiss against her lips while one hand returned to caressing her.
"You're very beautiful," he stated.
Grissom tenderly explored her body, taking his time to make sure he didn't aggravate any of her injuries. Slowly, he brought her to a climax.
He continued to stroke her lightly as she caught her breath, finally breaking the kiss to rest his forehead against hers.
"How long?" he asked with a ragged voice.
"I don't know. You wouldn't let me find out before," she teased, trying to move her hands lower.
"No. Until we can make love. The doctor told you to wait," he said, sitting up and resting his elbows on his knees, trying to get his breathing under control.
"Doc was just teasing. It should be fine now," she said sitting up on the couch.
"Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you."
Sara smiled at him as she stood up, pulling him along with her. Slipping her arms around him, she kissed him deeply.
"I'm sure. I want to make love with you."
Grissom smiled in return, kicking his shoes off as he led her to his bedroom. She mimicked his actions, but managed to leave her shoes neatly placed beside the door.
They began to explore each other with a tender hungriness, slowly making love until they both reached their release. After a minute, he shifted Sara so he could pull the covers over them.
Grissom pulled her close to his chest, stroking her back until exhaustion finally caught up with both of them, each falling into a deep slumber.
TBC