DISCLAIMER: I do not own CSI, or anything to do with it AT ALL. I also do not own the song Father's Son by 3 Doors Down. I'd like to but I don't.

Grissom left Nick and Greg in a state of confusion. Confusion that attacks you and creates a fluttery feeling of panic. The panic needed to be neutralized; they still hadn't finished looking through Rachel's room. Wordless, Nick started bagging and tagging the 30-some-odd journals Rachel had written in code. Greg scanned the colourless carpet, finding nothing. Peculiar… nothing. Was the carpet too clean? He frankly didn't care at the moment, he was preoccupied. He turned to Nick.

"Do you think Rachel knows?" He inquired. Nick paused for a moment and absently flipped through the pages of a random notebook he was holding.

"She knows more than any of us that's for damned sure," Nick replied. "Screw… I mean what are we even doing? Why does it matter we find out her past? The people responsible for screwing with her are behind bars, and the kid is as messed as could be… yet Grissom thinks we should pry into her life and dig up her secrets. WHY?" Nick thought out loud.

"Secrets must remain secrets… but I think she wants us to find them. I honestly think she does." Greg said. "She doesn't just tell us because she's spent her entire life hiding them and is having fun with it… I don't know… I understand where she's coming from but it seems so illogical" He continued as he knelt down to look under her bed.

Shoeboxes.

"Nick…" Greg said, as he opened one. Nick strode over to see the contents of the first shoebox. "Music boxes…" Greg said. He took one and turned the crank to emit the lonely notes into the air. Nick recognized the tune as the same one Sara played earlier.

"Ahh, more Vienna Blood," He exclaimed. Taking another shoebox, Nick continued, "This song has something to do with it." Opening the new box, he wasn't surprised to find two dozen more. And that's what they all contained. Music Boxes.

"With what… it?" Greg asked.

"It… the it we haven't figured out yet." He clarified. Greg nodded in understanding.

………………………………

Sara pulled up to the crime lab in a slightly pissy mood, Grissom having her help Catherine on an easy case. The guy was so spontaneous she gave up any hope in figuring out why he did what he did, ever. Entering, she spotted Catherine in the DNA lab, talking to Mia. She entered and listened in. Catherine got her results and casually said hi to her coworker, without making eye contact. When Sara followed her out, looking a bit hurt, she turned to decipher what was happening.

"Sara… what?" She said sighing. Sara looked a slight bit dazzled. Catherine had asked her help with something did she not?

"What was it you needed help with?" Sara asked her. Catherine frowned.

"Sara, I wrapped my case not thirty seconds ago. What is going on?" Catherine asked.

"You… Grissom said you called and needed help with your case and… here I am." Sara explained. Catherine suddenly thought that was something Grissom would do if he didn't want Sara working a case. Why, she hadn't a clue. She caught a hint of something fishy.

"Oh… well. Sorry, about that…" Catherine said, motioning to what happened a couple moments ago. Sara sighed.

"I thought you were just being rude," She replied. "Grissom obviously doesn't want me to work on his case." Sara said with a tone of disdain. She paused. "You never called him?" Sara asked, to confirm. Catherine shook her head. Rolling her eyes Sara scornfully headed to find Warrick and get an update on Rachel's former whereabouts.

…………………………..

Rachel sat with her feet on the table. She was immured in a gloomy room, alone…imprisoned in dank and cold walls. The cold, lifeless walls of the social worker's office. She was listening to music with her eyes closed. Her headphones were turned up high enough for someone standing four or five strides away to hear bits and pieces of the treble in the song. Randomly, she sang a couple verses.

In the glare of a neon sign
She laid her body down
The damned walked in beside her
And laid his money down

He said don't try to scream now
But I want this one to hurt
And tonight my pretty one
I'm gonna get my money's worth

He said they never listen
She said they'd never understand
That I don't this for pleasure
I just do it cause I can

I swear I didn't want to
And I swear I didn't know
That things like this could happen
To a 17-year old

Rachel subconsciously and effortlessly tapped her hands on her legs to the beat of the music, showing she obviously had an intense musical talent, but never made use of it. She also randomly hummed parts while examining her nails.

In the haze of a smoky room
He chokes that bottle down
It's been a month since her saw her face
Underneath the blood stained gown

She hummed an instrumental part. She never got a chance to sing the rest of her song, as a nurse walked in. Rachel took off her headphones and turned her music off. All the nurse had said before was that she had a visitor, and she'd been waiting a good ten minutes. The same nurse was accompanying one of the guys from the crime lab into the room. He was on his phone. Rachel felt more interrogations were unnecessary but she had nothing better to do, so she resorted to doing what others made her do. The guy from the crime lab looked worried and shocked which made Rachel nervous. She'd talked with him before and she anticipated he'd try tricking her into giving up her secret. She suddenly discarded that thought. His expression didn't fit that subject. She waited nervous and excited. He said 'bye' to Nick and looked at her with a newfound almost… admiration, then took a seat.

Grissom took a seat across from Rachel and put an evidence bag on the table. Rachel recognized the contents as the post-its she'd stuck to the underside of her kitchen table. She let herself laugh. Grissom didn't. Rachel waited to see what he'd say. Maybe he'd ask her help for decoding them. She told herself not to cave. That notion amused her. Her hardcore emotional front wouldn't give way. He would have a mental breakdown before she did. Grissom was almost reading her, because he hadn't said anything as of yet. He was only observing.

"Rachel, I know what happened," Grissom started. That was not what she was expecting. She listened. It was probably a trick. "I just don't know how it happened," he added. Rachel felt cheated by his vagueness. She raised an eyebrow as if to say she had nothing to say to that comment. It really meant nothing to her out of context. Grissom continued, "The fights, the constant trips to the hospital?" as if he was trying to trigger a memory. She knew what he was talking about now. She got up.

"I want you to nevermind that." She shot. Grissom seemed pleased with her defensiveness.

"Rachel, tell me everything you remember," Grissom said slowly as if he was losing his patience. Rachel wasn't easily swayed. Be a wall, she told herself.

"Leave it alone," Rachel said blankly. Grissom leaned back as if to try another approach.

"Rachel… you said, when you were…" he paused to remember, "nine… when you were nine, you ran away from home." Grissom looked her in the eye. "Where did you go?" He asked. Rachel's eyes glazed over for the first time in front of Grissom. He felt a tad guilty.

"Mr Grissom!" Rachel said loudly. Not madly or angrily, just loudly. Which was odd. " WHY?" she lowered her voice and sat down again. "Why does it MATTER where I went? I was NINE. I was stupid and nine and it doesn't matter where I went." Rachel yelled in a whisper, repeating herself. Grissom had to agree. But he knew more than he was letting on.

"It was when you found out, wasn't it?" Grissom said. "You were angry. Understandably. Where did you go, Rachel?" Rachel suddenly got the notion he knew but he wanted her concurrence.

"I don't remember anything important. Weird, odd little details, though," She said, answering his former question, which confused Grissom momentarily.

"Okay, tell me all you remember. Odd details are good. I like those," Grissom said, shifting gears.

"It was cold. I woke up and it was really late. I could tell because my mom and dad played classical music after my bedtime." Rachel said. As if she suddenly thought it was a bad idea to continue, she stopped. "I… I am feeling really nauseous right now…" Rachel said.

"The mind will often times try to suppress the memory of traumatic events, Rachel… you have a vivid memory, and… according to these," he indicated the notes, "you never tried to forget it…why?" He wondered.

"I wanted someone to find out…" Rachel said, as a tear silently escaped from her eye. "I didn't know how to say it at all, without sounding like a psycho…" Grissom just nodded, an unsubstantial understanding. He wasn't getting anything out of her. She was like a wall. He decided to confront her with the last thing he came to talk to her about. He tried to choose his words. Explain or not? Lay it out? Be vague? Be upfront… too late for that.

"Rachel? What about your mother? There are people you aren't telling me about…" He said. She looked up, knowing he knew a lot more than she'd anticipated.

"That's where," Rachel said suddenly. If he knew that much, there'd be no point in keeping more from him.

"Where? Where you went the time you ran away?" Grissom asked. Rachel nodded. "You went to find your mother…" He said, realizing it out loud. Rachel nodded again.

"Only, I wasn't with an adult, so they didn't let me see her. That's where the police found me and took me home… Then, we moved to Nevada, and that's why I was put into that straightjacket school." Rachel confessed. Grissom was amazed she'd caved. "And besides," Rachel continued, "Sara could've told you that…before… about what happened… it doesn't take a genius to figure that one out…"

"Do you know?" Grissom asked, getting continuously insecure. Rachel looked at him, confused, like he was an idiot.

"Well, she introduced herself to me at the hospital…" Rachel said, as if she was stating the obvious, "Do you think I would forget my own sister's name? Honestly." Rachel, feeling satisfied, turned her music back on and replaced her headphones. Trying hard to ignore Grissom's presence, she started to sing again.

He thinks about that little girl
And the one he has at home
And wonders what if that was my little girl
Walkin down that road alone?

And I've bundled up all these fears inside
And I've bottled up all of this pain
And no one or nothing can take this away
But I won't let it happen again
Never again
Never again

Even after Rachel's voice faded away, Grissom felt that her comfort was out of place.

…………………………………………………………….

Tell me when this story jumps the shark…PLEASE! For my own sanity.