A/N - this is the really sad chapter. Sorry if this is getting a bit dramatic. I didn't know what i was going to write when i started this story, I just literally made it up asIwent along which is whyI ended up with such a long story. Hope you are still enjoying it though!

Chapter Eleven – On my shoulder

Sitting down next to the bed, Greg took the little boys hand. He was fast asleep and looked so small, a large bandage wrapped around his head. Greg exhaled deeply, thinking back to the conversation he had just had with the doctor.

'We've managed to stabilise him but he's taken quite a hit to the head and lost a significant amount of blood. There is evidence of some swelling to his brain but as yet we can't assess the severity of that.'

'But he was conscious when I found him, ' Greg had protested.

'Clearly he was very lucky to have hung on as long as he did without medical attention but kids can be surprisingly resilient.' The doctor had explained.

Greg stroked his thumb over the back of Mikey's hand, willing the child to be o.k. As if sensing his presence, Mikey sleepily opened his eyes a little. Greg sat up a little as the boy looked at him.

'Mikey?' he said quietly.

The little boy smiled faintly, opening his eyes a bit more.

'Is that Greg?'

'Sure is,' Greg replied, feeling touched that he remembered him.

'Have you got the bad guy?'

Greg looked away for a second, a sinking feeling in his stomach. He had worked at the scene for two and a half hours, leaving no stone unturned so to speak, then spent a further two at the lab after dropping off the samples in DNA and, he still had no leads except for a sample belonging to an as yet unidentified third party.

'Not yet, buddy, but we're close. Has a policeman been to talk to you yet?'

'No.'

'Do you feel up to talking about it? My friend Captain Brass would really like to talk to you.' Greg said, gently.

'O.k., I'll try,' Mikey said, bravely.

Greg smiled and went outside to get Captain Brass who was talking to the policeman on guard outside the hospital room. He seemed to be having a stern word with him about where he had checked for the boy in the house and how they could have missed it.

'Hey there Mikey,' Captain Brass said as Greg sat down with the boy again.

'Hi,' was the child's quiet reply.

'I just wanna ask you a couple of questions and we can stop anytime you want, is that all right?'

Mikey nodded so Brass continued.

'Where's your mommy?' he asked.

'She's gone to France for her job,' Mikey said

'And you've been living with your dad?'

Mikey nodded again.

'O.k., can you tell me what happened in your house today?'

Mikey looked nervously at Greg and then back at Brass, his hands were shaking but he began to talk anyway.

'I went to go watch T.V and my daddy was on the floor. He looked like he was sleeping so I tried to wake him up but there was lots of blood so I got the phone to ring 911,' Mikey said, silent tears running down his face.

'And then what happened?'

'Then Dave came out of the kitchen and saw me and he had blood on him too. He looked really mad and I got scared and started running to my room and he hit me and my head hurt so I ran in my room and hid under my bed.' Mikey finished and looked at Greg again.

'It's o.k. Mikey you're doing a great job,' Greg said, smiling at him. 'Who's Dave?'

'He works with my daddy he's really big and he's got yellow hair and a monster on his arm.'

'What kind of monster?' Greg asked.

'Like a dinosaur but it has fire in it's mouth. It's a red one.'

Greg looked at Brass. Finally, a lead.

'Thank you very much Mikey, you did really well.' Brass said and jerked his head for Greg to follow him outside.

Greg told Mikey he would come and see him again. Mikey asked him if he could bring him his favourite book from home and read it to him.

'I'll see what I can do, you get some rest,' Greg gave him a wink and followed Brass outside.

Three hours later…

Dave, as it turned out, had a dragon tattooed on his arm and wasn't quite as big as Mikey had described him. Although, to a five year old, he must have seemed it. The police raided his house and found him trying to burn his clothes and hide a newly cleaned baseball bat, very unsuccessfully in his garage. When he processed the suspected murder weapon, Greg had found brown hairs trapped under some splinters, which he bagged and took down to the DNA lab where Harriet immediately took them from him and began running analysis on them, without a word. Thirty minutes later, she had come back with the results and Greg had joined Grissom and Brass in the interrogation room.

'So, Dave,' Grissom said, putting a bitter emphasis on the suspects name. 'You like to practise your swing on human heads? Personally I prefer a baseball although I'm not one for competitive sports.'

'Figures, you're kind of fat,' Dave replied, smugly.

Normally, Greg would have tried very hard to stifle a laugh at a comment like that but today he was too angry.

'Don't try denying this,' Greg snapped. 'We found your prints on the bat, and you were burning the clothes you were wearing.'

'I was getting rid of some old stuff and the bat is mine so of course my prints are on it,' Dave said, coolly.

'So how do you explain the blood on your clothes? It's an exact match to Mr Richardson.' Greg said, eyeing the man viciously.

'We hang out, we got in a fight the other day over something stupid,' Dave lied.

' I think you murdered him,' Greg said.

Grissom just sat quietly, not getting much chance to get a word in edgeways. Dave sat forward, bringing his face closer to Greg's. He smiled arrogantly.

'I didn't murder him or his kid,' he said.

'Who said anything about his kid?' Greg asked.

Dave's face fell. A look of panic came into his eyes.

'You did, you said his kid was there.'

'No I didn't, so how would you know his kid was even there if you didn't murder him?' Greg said, feeling triumphant.

'You can't prove anything,' Dave resumed his confident defensive demeanour.

'Yes I can because along with the blood on your shirt, I also have hairs from your baseball bat that match both Mr Richardson and his child and I bet the other DNA I found at the scene is a match to you.' Greg said, his turn to be smug.

Dave lunged at him across the table, grabbing him by the throat. Grissom and Brass both moved at the same time and pulled the man from Greg. Brass began reading him his rights. Greg stood up and left the interrogation room, feeling relieved that he had got the guy. Nearly being strangled to death hadn't really fazed him, he was too focussed.

'Greg, I don't ever want you to behave like that in an interrogation again,' Grissom said, coming out after him.

'What? I got him, what's wrong with that?'

'You were practically goading him!' Grissom snapped.

Harriet sighed, relieved, as she finished up the last of Sara and Catherine's samples. They had been mildly annoyed at their stuff being put to the bottom of the pile but didn't complain too much. She decided to head to the break room, having worked for 6 hours solid, which always happened when she was involved in her work.

Glancing up the corridor, she could see Greg was arguing with Grissom outside the interrogation room. She hadn't known everyone long but she knew that this was out of character for Greg. He must have really gotten involved in this case. She had heard the basics of it from Grissom and other people in the lab. Still, it looked like Grissom had got the last word as Harriet saw whilst she was returning to her lab. Grissom said something to Greg and walked away.

Not wanting to push someone who was clearly not having a good day, Harriet decided against going to see if Greg was o.k. Instead she watched as he started to walk down the corridor. He looked angry and rubbed his forehead as though it ached, then stopped suddenly to answer his mobile phone. After a few seconds, listening to the caller, Greg closed up his phone and stood staring into space before leaning against the wall of the break room and putting his hand to his face.

'Oh my God, he's crying,' Harriet said quietly to herself and raced out of her lab.

Damn Grissom, so what if he'd got involved in this. He had still got the result they'd needed. Just because he was new to being a CSI, didn't mean he had to criticise everything he did. Greg was still fuming when he heard his cell phone go off. He dug in his pocket and pulled it out.

'Sanders.'

'Hello Mr Sanders, it's Dr Hall from Las Vegas University hospital. I'm calling about Mikey Richardson.'

Greg had an ominous feeling as the doctor spoke.

'What is it?' Greg asked at last.

'I'm afraid the swelling to Mikey's brain was quiet severe and he suffered a haemorrhage.'

'Is he going to be all right?' Greg asked.

'I'm afraid he passed away ten minutes ago. I was hoping you might have contact details for his next of kin.'

'No I don't but I'll get Captain Brass to get in touch with you.' Greg said and hung up.

He stared at the floor for a minute, taking in the information he had been given. Suddenly, he felt weak. He leaned to the side and found himself resting against the outer wall of the break room. Tears welled up in his eyes and he couldn't hold them back anymore. Instinctively, he put a hand to his eyes as the sobs came. Salty tears ran down his face. This was all so unfair, the case had been solved, the murderer caught. Why did Mikey still have to die?

'Greg?' Harriet said, gently as she approached him.

He looked up, taking in a shaky breath. His face was tearstained and he looked at a complete loss.

'What's wrong?' she asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.

'You know the kid I found at the crime scene?' Greg said, taking another choking breath.

Harriet nodded.

'He's…he's…' Greg burst into tears again and Harriet got the message.

She pulled him into a hug and let him cry on her shoulder. He just stood with his arms by his sides, not responding to her gesture.

'I'm so sorry Greg,' she said. 'I know it's awful when children die.'

'It's so unfair,' Greg said as his knees gave way and he began to sink to the floor.

Harriet knelt down with him and held him. She hated seeing him like this and anyone could see how cut up he was about this.

'I know it is, the world is like that sometimes,' she said.

Greg finally wrapped his arms around her and held on tightly, like a child seeking comfort from its mother.

'I know but it doesn't make it any easier,' he said.

'It certainly doesn't.' Harriet said.

'What's going on?'

Harriet looked up to find Grissom had turned up, he must have been on his way to his office and been distracted by his CSI and his DNA specialist sitting awkwardly in the corridor.

'Your case just turned into a double homicide,' Harriet explained. 'Greg's a bit upset.'

Greg, being a man, released Harriet, wiped his eyes and stood up.

'Sorry boss,' he apologised.

'No need Greg, I understand. I'll speak to Brass. Do you two want to go home? You can't work like this.'

'But shift doesn't finish for another three hours,' Greg said.

'It's o.k. You can go. If I need Harriet, I'll give her a call.' Grissom said.

Greg nodded and looked at Harriet. She smiled and nodded, as he seemed to be questioning her as to whether she wanted to come with him. Grissom gave Greg an uncharacteristic pat on the back and headed on to his office.

Greg was so distraught he didn't think to feel embarrassed when Harriet came to comfort him. He was glad he wasn't alone, despite being a grown man and sobbing in the hallway. Her presence calmed him both because she cared and because he knew that she knew what he was going through in a way. He was not this child's father but had quickly developed a bond with him and now he was gone. Another victim, another case number. That was when his legs gave way and he lost it, even though he was starting to feel like a fool. Then Grissom turned up and he somehow found the strength to regain his composure. He would have been lying if he'd said he wasn't relieved at being allowed to go home and he was just as appreciative of Harriet giving up the rest of her shift to go with him.

She drove them back to the apartment, another silent journey although this time it was out of friendship not opposition, as she probably understood that he didn't need to talk just yet. As soon as he got in the door, he felt the tears come again. Harriet just took him in her arms and held him. He held her back, glad of the company. He apologised but she wouldn't have any of it.

'Don't worry about it. Just cry on my shoulder I don't mind. It's what I'm here for,' she said.

'I'm glad you're here.'

A/N - I realise Grissom and Greg are probably both completely out of character here but it works for what I'm doing anyway. Please humour me! Thanking you again.