The sight of the dead little girl sent a chill up his spine. "This is familiar," he thought "I don't like the way this looks." Brass was standing beside Grissom as he was taking in the scene. He could tell that the CSI was visibly shaken by it. Sara had noticed it too. "Grissom? Are you alright?" she asked.

He waved them off and gave a quick answer, "fine," then stared off into space as he was wont to do on many occasions when he was avoiding human interaction. His mind was back in 1987. It was tonight as it had been that evening. A search had yielded the body of a little girl who'd been beaten, violated, and revived in cycles more than once. All of a sudden, he could feel his lunch coming back to haunt him- Spring rolls and Mu Shu chicken. Out it went. His head was spinning. He wasn't sure how to move on to the next moment.

"Grissom!" called Sara. "What's gotten into you? We've been to scenes a thousand times more graphic and repulsive than this and you barely even flinched."

"Sara," he replied in a stern voice. "I need you to take over here for now. I need to get some air. I'll send Catherine over to assist you in the evidence collection." He hopped into the department's black Tahoe without looking back.

"What's with him?" She asked Brass. "I think you better ask him," replied the police captain.

His mind reeling, Grissom found solace in the quiet of his office. He closed the door behind him and slumped down in to his black leather chair. What is going on? Could it be happening again? Has he come back? Why hadn't he been caught? Why couldn't I have been on the case all those years ago? He reached in his desk and pulled out the bottle of prescription migraine tablets he'd been on for the occasional whopper. He wanted to take two. His head was spinning, jumping back and forth from present to past like a ping-pong match in fast forward.

Just then, Catherine strolled by looking for Grissom to sign off on her annual evaluation. As was her custom, she opened the door without knocking or looking up. "Grissom," she stopped and frowned, "you look like hell. What happened to you?" His first attempt to brush her off was met with the fire that drove Catherine to be a damn good CSI. She would have none of that. "What's with you today? I come in to give you my signed evaluation form and I find you practically curled up in the fetal position hiding behind your desk. 16 years is a long time to be friends and still have this kind of communication problem."

"Catherine," he said weakly, "he's back."

"Grissom, you're speaking in code. Just tell me."

"The man who killed Anna," Grissom replied.

Catherine became quiet and then moved a chair to sit closer to Grissom. She put one hand over her mouth and the other on Grissom's right knee. "Are you sure?" she managed to force out.

"Not positive," he admitted, "but everything within me when I arrived at the crime scene screamed it. It was truly more than I could handle. I left Brass and Sara at the scene and high-tailed it here. One of my migraines started on the road and here I am. I am going to need you to take over and be the primary on this one. If there are any links, it could bring compromise and then that creep would be able to get away yet again."

"I'll go right away," she answered and rose to leave.