Diclaimer: I DO NOT OWN CSI. I may like to tell myself I do, but I don't.

Man, this is crazy. I never thought I would have people begging me to continue. I just kind of put it out here to see if anyone would read it, but I never thought I would actually have to finish the story. Truth be told I have no idea what's going to happen any sooner than y'all do. I should probably work on that. ButI do know the kidnapper but guess what! I'm not telling. :PSara

This is Gil Grissom.

Cool, calm, collected, other "c" words describing a guy with more brain than brawn. While athletic in his younger years, most of his life has been a pursuit of knowledge.

It's proven that children of divorce are no different than those of normal homes, but with his only parent figure def, silence became normal. Gil learned to appreciate sound and tried to only fill his silence with noises pleasing to the ears.

With silence, though, comes the realization of loneliness. Endless hours of nothingness makes one feel all alone. And for a while this was perfectly fine for a preteen Grissom. But then came high school. Four years of endless misery.

It wasn't so much that he was picked on, but that he might as well have not been there at all. Even the teachers sometimes forgot who he was. Lunch hours were spent in the library absorbing volume after volume, novel after novel, comic after comic. Books were his friends, teachers, pupils. With every page read a piece of him was found and a piece of him was given.

The only serious relationship had been his junior year of college. Michelle was a psychology major and had been fascinated by a man who was wise beyond his years, smarter than half their professors, and yet didn't hold that against anyone. She had to solve the mystery that hid beneath. Little did she know that not even Gil could figure that one out.

But years later, in the form of a brown eyed brunette, he had found the missing puzzle piece.

This is Gil Grissom now.

Sitting at his desk surrounded by everything that defines him. He is the scattered papers, the volumes of books and specimen jars on the shelf behind him, the phrase organized chaos came to mind. He is the pair of glasses now resting on a pile of notes, he is the Big Mouth Billy Bass above the door, and he is even the pig fetus Nick likes to call Miss Piggy.

He is a part of them and they are a part of him.

But today he felt like a fish out of water; a fly without wings; a baby bird thrown out of the nest before he was ready.

"Grissom?" That voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

He glanced up to see a wary Greg standing in the doorway.

"Yes, Greg?"

He took a cautious step forward. "I, uh, heard Sara was released from the hospital. Is she alright?"

Grissom rubbed his eyes and put his glasses back on, then began sorting through some of the papers spread out on his desk. "Yes, just a small fracture in her wrist and a couple scrapes." He neglected to tell him about the amnesia. He wasn't sure if he should tell anyone just yet.

There was silence for a moment and Grissom looked up to see Greg, with a look like a puppy dog that had knocked over a vase.

He sighed. "Greg it isn't your fault."

"I know, but you said---"

"I know what I said, but forget it. She's safe now. There's a cop outside her apartment to make sure no one goes in that's not supposed to."

Greg nodded, but kept the uncharacteristically deep frown on his face.

"Any updates on the whereabouts of Sara's kit?"

"Oh, um, yes actually. It was in a ditch a couple blocks away from the Davis residence. The camera is still missing though. I was able to lift a couple prints that weren't Sara's. Jacqui's running them through AFIS as we speak."

"Good. And the hairs Catherine found?"

"Last I checked Mia had them and was creating a DNA profile."

"How long ago was this?"

"About an hour."

"See if she's ran them through CODIS yet."

Greg gave him a two fingered salute, turned on his heel and left.

Grissom allowed himself a small smile before his phone rang. He flipped open the cell phone. "Grissom."

"Hello, Mr. Grissom, sir. Uh, I'm the officer on duty over at Glory Ridge apartments."

Those were Sara's apartments. His heart sped up in prepare for something bad. "Yeah?"

"Well, she asked me to leave."

"She what?"

"She wants me to leave, sir."

"Did she say why?"

"She says I make he feel insecure."

Grissom let out a sigh. "Ok. I'll be over in a couple minutes. Don't leave."

When he arrived, Grissom parked in the guest parking lot, a few yards from the only two gates in and out of the apartment complex. A couple spaces down was the unmarked car that Officer Garcia was using. The windows were tinted, but Grissom imagined the young field agent saw him as he slightly nodded and walked over to the door sized gateway. To the right of it was a small keypad on which he entered the code Sara had given him and Garcia.

He walked around the pool to her unit. Number 182. And after only a couple of knocks he heard her unlock the door. Grissom counted two deadbolts and a chain.

The door swung open and there she was. For a moment she studied him like a piece of evidence under the microscope before shrugging and stepping back to let him in. Grissom strode in, letting the door close behind him with a resounding click.

When he remembered that he was alone with Sara he couldn't help but think of an old Hemingway novel, The Sun Also Rises, in which he wrote, "It is awfully easy to be hard-boiled about everything in the daytime, but at night it is another thing."