"Second Chances - Part 6"

The Pavlik Home Crime Scene
10:55 p.m.

Greg hustled through the backyard with Grissom's prescription bottle. "It was right where you said it was in your kit."

From his position sitting against the block fence, Grissom slowly lifted his head. "Thanks."

Popping the top he asked, "How many?"

"Two."

While he placed the pills in Grissom's open palm, Greg commented, "My mom suffers from migraines." He twisted open the cap on the water bottle and held it out. "When I was a kid, she used to tease me and say it was from listening to me practice piano. I hated playing so it seemed logical that if I quit so we could both stop suffering. Of course, she still got migraines after I stopped playing so really only I got anything out of the deal. Anyway she…"

Still reeling from the recollection of his abhorrent behavior, Grissom clutched his pounding head and fell deeper into despair. Physical abuse…mental abuse…it's all abusive! Two men…different weapons…same goal! And I don't think either one of those bastards is worthy of my spit no less a god damn glass of my water in my home! Looking back, the hypocrisy was crystal clear. While he was lecturing her on the despicable qualities of abusive men, he was psychologically traumatizing her. As upset as he was over her betrayal, he knew it didn't justify his appalling behavior. The questions flowed…why did it happen? Can I be trusted not to do it again? Could she ever trust me? She lied to me…can I ever trust her? How can I even look at her now that I realize how viciously I treated her? How can she ever look at me the same?

"I should stop talking now," Greg remarked. "Only furthers the pain, I'm sure. Warrick is on his way to assist since Sofia had to go to the hospital with the vic. This scene is way more than we envisioned so we can definitely use the help. While you wait for your medication to kick in I'll keep processing the bedroom…and before you say it…I promise not to screw it up. Oh and just so you know…it's turning into a real nightmare out front so you probably want to stay away until you're feeling better. Mark Toscana's parents are there and they just called an ambulance for his mom because she collapsed…who can blame her. Vartann said Trevor's parents are out of town so they won't be showing up which is good because Mark's dad looks angry enough to kill." Walking away he said, "Call me if you need anything."

"Greg…"

"Yeah?" He turned around.

Sincerity flooding his voice, Grissom said, "I'm sorry I snapped at you earlier. I should have handled things differently."

Nodding, he replied, "It's cool. I caused enough trouble earlier today. I deserved it."

"No." He fought through the pain. "That's not the reason I did it and you didn't deserve it. It's also not the first time I've jumped down your throat instead of being supportive. Most recently, I did the same thing at the gun range, remember?"

He smiled. "You mean when you and Sara were arguing over how to raise me? Yeah…reminded me of my parents fighting over me quitting the swim team…my dad was really tweaked and my mom got in his face telling him not to push me so hard. I bet if Sara were here tonight she would have gotten in your face about it."

"Yeah…she definitely would have." Swallowing hard, he said, "You had every right to march out here and call me a hypocrite, but instead you asked if I needed help. Thank you."

"Up until last week I was a pretty big hypocrite myself so…if I called you one I'd be a hypocrite again and I'm trying to be a different kind of guy. I'm evolving…like a caterpillar into a butterfly." He chuckled. "I thought you might dig that analogy."

"I do." Grissom stared at him thinking…you have no idea how much I want to believe that's possible right now.

Stepping closer Greg said, "Besides…it's like you told me when you were at my apartment discussing Emerson's take on self-sacrifice. Remember…right before Tawny went hysterical and locked herself in the bathroom? You said, 'give a piece of yourself then reap the rewards of generosity and then give some back again'. Well…you've been giving plenty so, it's my turn."

"You really do absorb everything."

"No, not everything…only the stuff worth soaking up." Suddenly his tone sobered. "Speaking of soaking…I better get back to processing the blood bath. David was just arriving when I was getting your pills."

"I'll go with you." He took a deep breath and struggled to get to his feet.

"Here…" Greg walked over and held out his hand. "Let me help you up in case you're dizzy. My mom…she would lose her balance sometimes."

After a brief hesitation, he accepted the offer. "Thanks," He said as he wavered.

"Are you okay?"

Shoreline Cabins
11:45 p.m.

"I swear…I'm okay," Sara informed Brass as she took a seat on the couch holding the cabin's cordless phone. "I rented a place and I'm safely locked inside. Lucky for me the owner let me check in so late. She said she didn't mind because she's a night owl. Oh…and she lives in the cabin down the road so don't worry, I'm not in the middle of the woods alone." The accidental metaphor wasn't lost on her. Actually I am lost and alone in the middle of the woods…but I left a trail of bread crumbs just in case.

"What's the temperature there? I'll tell ya…this 100 degree shit was a shock after Vancouver's summer temperature."

"Then why do you want to torture yourself by asking?" A near smile showed on her face. "It's fifty-four degrees."

"Doh!"

"I'd make a fire in the fireplace if it wouldn't make me fall into a deeper depression." The thought of snuggling up to a cozy fire alone just didn't seem appealing. "I'm really tired so I'm going to get some sleep."

"Okay. Don't worry, I'll talk to Nicky about your shift. Hey…take care of yourself, Sara."

"Don't worry…I've had a lifetime of practice doing just that." A new wave of sadness washed over her and she whispered, "Good night, Jim," before clicking off the phone.

Glancing toward the door she saw her baggage. "Decades later and I'm still suddenly packing up and moving to a new home."

"Sara…" Foster mom Mrs. Jacobs took her hand. "We knew this day would come because I'm only a temporary provider. Peg Hewitt, your caseworker called a little while ago. They've found a more permanent situation for you." She smiled. "There are other children there and a good school just down the street from the house."

"Please…can't I stay here?" Sara pleaded. "I like it here, it's quiet."

"I'm sorry dear." Peg stood up. "Come now…I'll help you pack your things. When we're through, I'll take you out for chocolate milkshake."

Recalling her stop at Dan's Diner, she groaned, "And I'm still drinking chocolate milkshakes to celebrate displacement. How screwed up is that?" Falling silent, she pondered, am I really no more than the sum of my messed up childhood trauma? Is that all he is?" Her fingers coiled through her hair. And I thought I made a lot of progress in therapy.

Exhausted, she stretched out on the couch, knowing the king size lodge-pole bed would be too depressing to sleep in alone. From the back of the leather couch she grabbed a blanket. Sighing, she thought, I'm too tired to even care what kind of germs might be on this thing.

She pulled the blanket tighter and closed her eyes. Like she had done so many times in her life she shifted uncomfortably while longing for the familiarity of her own bed and the two things she always craved…love and security. Things she was no longer certain she'd ever feel again.

In the course of her tossing and turning, she brought her right hand to her forehead and was jolted by the feel of her diamond ring against her skin.

Opening her eyes, she stared at the stones. Diamonds…the hardest substance known…they're resistant to acid and need to be heated to 1470 degrees before turning to carbon dioxide. They're resilient even under duress. The word diamond comes from the Greek word adamas meaning, unconquerable. I looked that up after finding out diamond was diamante in Italian. Diamante…

"Sara, if you were a bigger opera fan, you might know what the Italian word for diamond is…"

Staring at the ring her eyes pooled.

"Sara, I've told you so many things over these past seven months but there's one affirmation I've yet to verbalize although you know I've felt it for a while. Something very hard for me, something I've never said before in my life." As he slipped the ring on her finger he said, "I trust you. I trust in your love."

"I took away the one thing that meant everything to him..." A fresh batch of tears tumbled from her eyes. "…his ability to trust me. Like I waited a lifetime to find love and security, he waited a lifetime to find someone he could trust." As the diamonds blurred she thought…people, unlike diamonds, are easy to destroy. We destroyed each other in a matter of minutes. How's that for symmetry?

Lifting her left hand, she looked at the thick platinum band encircling her ring finger then let her eyes drift back to the diamond ring on her right. "We exchanged two sets of vows. We made two sets of promises." Sniffling she said, "We only betrayed each other once. Does that mean we still have a second chance?

August 8, 2005 (Day 108)
Crime Lab
Grissom's Office
6:44 a.m.

After returning from the field, Grissom holed up in his office with stacks of paperwork to pass the time until Sara arrived for her shift. He didn't expect she would speak with him, nor did he think he should try, but he wanted to see her…to know she was safe.

Tahoe was the only time she was ever completely out of his reach and he remembered the unnerving feeling like it was yesterday. It was hell and he could still hear the echo of the message that he heard a hundred times when he frantically tried to reach her…I'm sorry but the subscriber you're trying to reach is unavailable.

Checking his watch he knew it wouldn't be much longer and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hey, Gris!" Nick bounded into the office. "I just got off the phone with Brass and I gotta say…your wife has a lot of nerve," He said half joking. "She knew Trey had the week off. Hell of a time for her to decide to take off for a forensics conference."

Removing his glasses, Grissom stammered, "What…I'm sorry…say that again?"

Nick stuffed his hands on his hips. "Brass called and told me he approved Sara's last minute request to attend some forensic psychology seminar. She'll be gone the whole week and I need her here. She knew how behind we were. I'd be bitchin' at her, but Brass wouldn't give me the number where she was staying and told me to leave her alone, that she's earned the time away."

Brass spoke with Sara? Grissom questioned the significance of the detail. What had she told him? Did she make up the seminar story? How would she pull that off? She'd have to do paperwork, submit receipts and do a post-conference report. Was she really going to the conference? Has she already left?

"Gris?" Nick stared at the lost man sitting behind the desk. "Where'd you go just now?"

"I uh…" Jumping up from his desk, he grabbed his keys. "I just remembered something I have to do. On behalf of Sara I apologize for the inconvenience to your shift. Greg wants to max out his overtime so maybe you could pull him." Frantic to find out the truth, he hurried out the door.

Nick watched as Grissom hustled down the hall. "Huh…it almost seemed like he was surprised about Sara's plans too. Or maybe last night's case still has him on edge. Sanders seemed a little freaked when I saw him leaving as I was coming in."

Greg's Apartment
6:50 a.m.

Drained from the emotionally devastating case, Greg trudged into his apartment and tossed his keys on the kitchen counter.

Figuring Tawny was still sleeping, he quietly opened the fridge and grabbed a Heineken. He was pleased to see there were several more at his disposal should he desire them…which he knew he would.

After popping off the top, he took a hearty swig and when he lowered the bottle, he slid down the wall to rest his tired body. Staring at the kitchen floor, his mind flipped back to the Pavlik kitchen and the thick layer of congealed blood contrasted against the white tile. The blood of a seventeen year old boy who had woken up that morning thinking he had his whole life ahead of him.

Downing another hefty portion of the bottle's contents, Greg fought to keep the images of the bedroom carnage out of his mind. It was a losing battle. The vision of the minced body parts overcame him and once again he felt a twinge of nausea.

"Hey there…"

Tawny's sleepy voice called out in the darkness of the room and he lifted his eyes toward the pleasant sound.

"I thought I heard you come in." Tucking her sleep-mussed hair behind her ear, she smiled. "You look like you had a rough night. Is that why you're home a little early?"

"Yeah…worst scene I've had so far." He held up his drained bottle. "I'm going for a little liquid memory loss as rapidly as possible."

Bending over, she took the empty and placed it on the counter. "Wanna talk about it?"

"You don't need to hear the details." Running his fingers through his hair he said, "After all…I'm trying to forget them."

Opening a new bottle for him, Tawny smiled, "I was thinking about you last night."

"Thank you," He softly replied as he wrapped his hand around the green bottle. "For thinking about me…not for the beer…although I'm grateful for that too." He tipped the bottle and drank until he was forced to stop for air.

Kneeling down in front of him, she said, "You know…despite my hormonal outbursts lately, I'm pretty tough. I wouldn't have survived all these years dancing in Vegas if I was a wuss. So if you need to talk this out, I can handle it."

"I appreciate the offer but…" Shaking his head he continued depleting the bottle in his grip.

"Did you know that pole dancing builds really strong shoulders?" Extending her hand, she urged him, "So if you're looking for a place to lean, maybe you want to give me a try instead of that wall."

Staring at her hand, he considered the offer and the feelings attached to accepting it.

"You've done so much for me, Greg…" She wiggled the fingers on her outstretched hand. "…let me give something back."

Slowly he slipped his hands in hers. "Thanks."

As she pulled him to his feet, Tawny once more fought the urge to proclaim the depth of her feelings for him and opted for a one word reply. "Anytime."

Dropping his arms around her, he buried his face in the nape of her neck and on a jagged breath he told her, "It was a really rough night."

She replied by strengthening her embrace.

In the security of her arms, he opened up. "Sometimes…sometimes I think I can't handle the job…seeing this stuff that no one should have to see…the nightmares afterwards. Tonight, I couldn't hold it together…I touched a door before I gloved up…I puked at the scene…I started shaking when I watched the parents of the vic find out their seventeen year old son was murdered…I was a wreck." He stroked her hair as he spoke in a voice raw with emotion. "On top of everything, Grissom picked today to lose it for the first time and I had to end up helping the person I usually have helping me. To overcompensate, I spent the rest of the night hiding my feelings and pretending what I was dealing with didn't bother me."

"No wonder you're shook up."

"I look at Grissom and think, is that what I'll become if I keep doing this job? Don't get me wrong, there are so many things about him I admire but…I don't want to be him." Clinging to her, he admitted, "I'm scared…I don't want to see so much that it's easier to shut down emotionally than deal with what I'm feeling. I don't want the job to take over my life…my sanity."

"I know what you mean," She whispered. "But it doesn't have to be that way. This sounds ridiculous but…it's kind of like stripping. When you go to work you have to check your emotions at the door and over the years, you get so used to it you don't even have to try because it's automatic. No matter what you see or hear on the job, it doesn't bother you because you're detached. It's the only way I could deal. But the key is…when you leave work, you have to check back in with your emotions or you're right…you'll go numb. I think that's why I go a little overboard on showing affection towards other people."

"So you think it's possible that over time I can toughen up on the job but not lose my vitality outside of work?" Pulling back, he looked for confidence in her eyes. "Because I don't want to come home to my kid and be so depressed I can't appreciate his smile."

She grinned as caressed his bruised cheek. "So…we're having a boy?"

"Sorry…that's how I've been picturing it."

"You've been picturing it?"

After clearing the emotion from his throat, he replied, "A few times, yeah."

"Does he have your hair or mine?" When she elicited a laugh from him with the question, she burst into one of her own.

"Yours." He remarked as he laced his fingers through her tussled mane. "This is nice…coming home to someone after a rough day."

"Remember what you told me when I said I wasn't used to anyone caring about me? Well I have the same answer for you about coming home to someone after a rough day." Wildly she grinned. "Get used to it!

The last of his melancholy was quickly defeated by Tawny's bright smile and enthusiasm. "Get used to it, huh?"

"Yeah." Sharing Eskimo kisses, their affection grew and she lovingly blurted, "Because now that I'm here with you, Greg…I don't ever want to leave."

When their eyes riveted on one another, he eagerly replied, "Good…" His hands locked behind her back. "…because I don't want you to go."

Feeling his heart hammering against hers she gasped, "Greg, I want…"

"What?" He whispered while grazing his lips over hers and reveling in the desire flourishing between them. "What do you want?"

Swooning from his near-kiss, she murmured, "I really want to…" She held back for fear he didn't feel the same.

With every breath, his feelings for her intensified. "Me too."

A second later they acknowledged their undeniable chemistry with a series of urgent kisses while gravitating to the bedroom door.

The Grissoms'

7:18 a.m.

Rushing through the front door, Grissom frantically called out, "Sara!" Clutching his keys he stood at the cross-section of the hallway. "I know you asked me to stay away and I promise to leave but I want to make sure you're safe. I know I made you feel very unsafe yesterday and I'm so sorry…it's the last thing I ever thought I would do. I didn't realize what I was doing…not that I'm excusing my behavior. You really threw me…you hurt me and I was so blindsided by everything. I don't…I… Nick said you weren't coming to work all week and I…could you just answer and let me know you're safe and then maybe we could…if you want to …I don't know where to begin but I know I don't want this to end.. I don't want us to end, Sara. Please…just say something." Holding his aching head, he waited for a reply.

When he didn't get an answer, he hurried down the hall to the bedroom. "Sara?" Slowly he walked through the open door and scanned the room. As his pulse quickened, his eyes widened. "She…"

Stepping into the room he saw open drawers and on the center of the bed were her pager, cell phone and house keys. "She left…"

He stumbled toward the bathroom and noted the empty spaces where her toiletries used to be. "She left me."

In response to the persistent throb in his head, he fumbled into his pants pocket for his Imitrex prescription.

"Why are you crying, Mom?" Gil asked when he came home and found his mother sitting on the floor in the hallway outside the guest room.

When she didn't answer, he peeked inside at the room his dad slept in. The drawers were open and empty and the closet only contained a few empty hangers.

Returning to his mother's side, he signed, "Ask him to come back."

With trembling hands, she replied, "No. If he wants to come back he'll come on his own. I'm not asking."

His six year old fingers couldn't get the words out fast enough. "I'll ask. Because I want him back."

"No!"

"Why?"

"Because you need to keep your pride. You'll lose pride if you go begging."

"What is pride?"

"Pride is your self-respect. It's the only thing they can't take away from you when you lose everything."

After gulping down the last two pills in the bottle with a handful of water from the sink, he dropped the bottle and darted out of the bathroom.

Expecting to find evidence of where Sara had gone, he rushed to the kitchen. He clung to the notion that maybe she left a note on the fridge like she had done in the past.

When he turned the corner, he was slapped with painful reminders of yesterday's events…the tossed tray and scattered food.

Are you sure you're not lying? Let's examine the evidence, shall we? Food!

The sound of the tray hitting the floor rang in his ears as he averted his eyes. Unfortunately his gaze fell on the shards of shattered glass littering the room.

Were you doubling up, Honey, or did you entertain Ron with a beverage?"

"Do I have to print it or are you finally going to be honest with me?"

Too bad your father's dead or I could reciprocate…I could give him a nice cold glass of water.

Would that be okay, Sara? Would you feel protected if I did that?"

The smash of the glass exploding against the wall thundered in his mind and he instinctively covered his face hoping it would all disappear but when he lowered his palms, everything was still there…the tray, the food, the glass…everything but Sara. "How could I do this to her in her own home…the one place she felt safe?"

Even in the throes of despair, Grissom was still a CSI so while he was mentally obsessing, his eye caught something out of place on the couch. Breathing hard, he raced over and grabbed the thick envelope. On the front of hit was written Mandalay Bay 1272 and when he opened the envelope another shockwave ripped through him. Family photos. Photos of him as a baby and then a young child…of his mother…of his parents. Photos of his parents which he had never seen…happy photos. It was like looking at characters you knew only from a tragic play and suddenly seeing them juxtaposed in a romantic comedy. They were smiling…laughing…they were in love.

One by one he flipped through the pictures while questions darted through his overwhelmed mind. She never told me there were happy times. "This can't be." Was I conceived out of love? She never told me my father played with me in the park or took me swimming. She told me he was never a father to me. Was there a time when he actually cared? Why do I have a cast on my leg? She never told me I broke my leg. Why didn't she have these photos in the books she showed me? Why did she keep them from me? Why did she…

Focusing intently on a particularly disturbing snapshot, he swallowed hard. "That's an…ant farm? My father built an ant farm with me? That doesn't make any sense…my mother told me my father hated bugs."

As a scientist, he was always troubled by conflicting information. As a man already on the edge of a breakdown, he was rattled to the core. "These photos…they're evidence."

The evidence never lies.

"Why did she keep these from me?"

People lie. The evidence never does.

He swallowed the bile rising in his throat as the realization swept over him. "She lied to me. She lied to my face." His mother's words haunted him. Just like the opera, Gil…cosi fan tutte…they're all like that…not to be trusted. "My god…she was talking about herself."

Stuffing the photos in the envelope, he bolted from the room.

Shoreline Cabins
7:35 a.m.

A knock on the door rattled Sara awake. "One minute, please!" She yelled as she tossed off the blanket and swung her legs off the couch. For a sleepy second she wondered where she was but reality came quickly and she recalled the tumultuous events that caused her to flee.

Through the door she heard the cabin owner's pleasant voice. "Good Morning, it's Becky Knolls. Sorry to disturb you, Ms. Sidle but you left your credit card in the office last night and I didn't want you to go out and discover it missing when you needed it."

With the blanket wrapped around her, Sara opened the front door. "Thanks." Flashing a polite smile she took the card from the woman's hand. "I would have missed it."

Becky, a forty-three year old granola-loving nature enthusiast with the energy of a twenty year old, returned the smile. "Planning on enjoying the great outdoors today? I have plenty of suggestions if you need some."

"I want to take a hike," She informed the petite woman with perky bobbed brown hair.

"Where? Around the lake or do you prefer the mountains? I have some maps if…"

"From my life actually," Sara unintentionally retorted. "Got a map for that?"

"Oh." Becky fidgeted through the awkward moment.

"Sorry…didn't mean to say that out loud." Sighing heavily, Sara asked, "Uh…where is the closest grocery store? I need to buy a few things."

Becky had no trouble answering the factual question. "Head back to the main road and take a left. About two miles you'll come to an intersection. Take a right and you'll see the store…Tahoe Tommy's."

"Great, thanks. Have a good day." Sara nodded before closing the door. "Okay…she thinks I'm a wacko." Chilled from the morning air, she hurried toward the bathroom. "She probably thinks I'm going to off myself in her beautiful cabin. Not a chance, lady. If I had suicidal tendencies I would have been gone long ago."

Grissom's Car
7:44 a.m.

Gripping his cell phone, Grissom impatiently waited for an answer. "Come on already."

"And what can I do for you this morning?" Brass greeted.

"Where is she, Jim?" He inquired in a panicky voice. "I know you know."

Nonchalantly he replied, "She's in the witness protection program hiding from whatever the hell she witnessed."

Pulling into the parking lot, Grissom pleaded, "I have to talk to her."

"Sorry…I gave my word. She specifically asked me not to tell you. Actually, I'm kind of surprised you asked because she was adamant you wouldn't care. Why would she think that, I wonder?"

"Did she tell you what happened?" He cringed at the thought.

"Nope." He groaned. "But whatever it is I'm guessing it's way more FUBAR than Tahoe. Because in Tahoe you weren't married to her. In Tahoe you didn't know about her tragic childhood and her fragile mental state regarding matters of the heart. So, if you've hurt her in any way, she has to feel exponentially worse than she did sitting alone in that antiseptic hospital room in Tahoe."

Clenching the phone, Grissom replied, "Yes, it's much worse than Tahoe. But how am I ever going to make it better if I can't find her. Can you give me a phone number?" He bargained.

"Right after I buy the Brooklyn Bridge from you," He grumbled. "What do you think I fell off the turnip truck yesterday? If I give you the phone number you'll know where she is. Look…I'm not going to betray her trust in me. If I do then she'll disappear and no one will know if she's okay. Understand?"

"Yes," He reluctantly admitted.

"At least you know she's safe and she has someone to call. Maybe if you give it some time she'll let me tell you. Until then…you better work on what you're going to say. Remember what Heather told you…apologies are just words coming from a guy like you."

"Since you know her so well now tell me, what exactly does she mean? Or does she have you sworn to secrecy too?"

"No, that one I can answer." He chuckled. "She has no control over me."

Massaging his temples, Grissom pleaded, "The point Jim."

"I believe her point to you was that an apology coming from you is meaningless because if the scenario were to come up again you'd still make the same choice…you'd always choose to close down and protect yourself rather than giving the other person a chance to explain that a betrayal did not take place. Looking back, don't you think you would have been better served to give her a chance to explain, then step back and let a third party intervene? Then she would have cooperated, been cleared and everything would have been hunky dory, right? No harm, no foul. It's a hell of a lot harder letting your pride take over, having things go to an extreme and then trying to fix it on the back end. In all other matters you take time up front to get the facts but in matters of pride…it's judge and act first, think later."

In light of the current situation, it was the last thing he wanted to hear.

"Does that help you?" Jim queried in a supportive tone.

"It clarifies things for me," He sighed as he closed his eyes and was once again plagued by Sara's terrified voice.

I…I just wanted…"

"If you listen to…"

"No…no, I didn't. I…"

I wasn't…I didn't want to…yes, I lied but only because…"

"No…I was trying to protect you."

Now he understood…instead of blowing up at Sara, if he had stepped back, given her a chance to explain she might have offered a valid explanation that he could have verified. If she had a reasonable explanation, everything would have been fine. Instead, he chose to shut down and didn't give her a chance to speak her peace before declaring her a liar and betrayer.

"You still there, Gil?"

"Yeah." Shaking his head, he remarked, "Since I can't ask Sara why she did what she did, I'll have to ask the only other person who knows the answer."

"Who's that?"

Though the windshield he glanced up at the name on the building…Mandalay Bay.

"I'll uh…talk to you later, Jim. Thank you for your help and if Sara asks…is she asks, tell her I'm glad she's safe and tell her…tell her that if she would let me talk to her I'd be eternally grateful."

"Listen…saying things like, I'd be eternally grateful, doesn't mean anything. That's what you have to work on, pal. If Sara ever gives you a chance you better have some actions to back up your words. Understand? Don't expect to say, I promise not to do 'x' and have her swooning. I guarantee you it's not gonna happen that way this time, my friend. Once upon a time you had a magic spell over her but not anymore. So if you get a chance you need to say, I promise not to do 'fill in the blank' and here's what I've done to make sure I won't…or I promise to be more 'fill in the blank' and here's what I've done to prove it to you."

"Got it." He nodded, hoping he could follow the advice and praying he got the chance to use it. "Thanks for looking out for her, Jim."

"It's not totally selfless you know."

"I know. It's about Ellie."

"Take care of yourself, Gil."

"Goodbye." With the envelope of photos in hand, Grissom opened his car door. "Okay Ron…let's see what you have to say today."