"Warrick." Catherine's voice was quiet, the voice she used when she had to wake Lindsay on the first day of school each year.

"I know." He said, his eyes not leaving the report. They didn't move at all, no back and forth motion showing her he was actually reading the words, just a blank stare.

"Ginger's seventeen."

"I know." He said again, his voice growing more impatient.

"What--" Grissom began, and stopped when Catherine held up a hand.

"Warrick…" Catherine tried again.

"I know, Cath, I know." He slammed the folder down on to the tabletop. "I know how old she is, I know how long ago my prom was…I know…I know..." He was suddenly deflated, as if the outburst used all the air in his body, and dragged himself the few steps back to the couch, sinking back into the cushions, and covered his face with his hands. "I know…" he said, his fingers muffling his words.

Grissom watched for a moment, and counted Warrick's breaths, as the younger CSI's back heaved up and down, quickly at first, then Grissom could see all of Warrick's muscles flex as he fought to regain control. Cocking an eyebrow, Gris looked at Catherine, her hands had fallen to each side of the chair, fingers griping the seat, she was literally holding herself down; fighting her instincts, knowing that as much as she wanted to comfort him, coddling was the last thing Warrick would want right now.

"Warrick" Grissom began slowly. "Why would Carly lie to her daughter?" His words may have been directed at the man on the couch, but his eyes were still looking at the mother sitting next to him.

Catherine's brow narrowed, as she considered the question. Reconsidered the question, she'd been asking herself the same thing since the idea that Ginger might be Carly's daughter first occurred to her. After a moments thought, she shrugged, simultaneously, Warrick mumbled, "I don't know."

Frustrated with questions that could never be answered, Grissom sighed loudly.

"What should we do?" Sara asked Nick, raising her eyes to his reflecting back at her. They had guided Ginger back into the interrogation room, not knowing where else to put her, and after bringing her a glass of water and a freshly opened box of tissue, they left her alone again, only to slip into the next door down, into the observation room, to, well, observe.

Nick took a moment before answering, crossed his arms over his chest, heaved a sigh and considered the question, watching Ginger sip from the glass, swallowing tears along with the water. His face brightened, "I've got an idea." Sara knew what he was thinking, but before she could stop him, the observation room door was closing behind him.

"This is either the most brilliant thing he's ever done," Sara watched the grieving girl on the other side of the glass, "or the dumbest" she muttered to her reflection. A moment later, she pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth as the door to the interrogation room opened, and Nick stuck his head in.

The volume was turned off, and Sara didn't bother to turn it on, preferring instead, to watch the events almost as if a silent movie. Nick said just a few words, then opened the door further, allowing Peter room to step past him and into the room.

Ginger stood from the chair, her face a study in contradictions, her mouth drew into a tight line of annoyance, her eyes were wide with surprise. The stunned expression in her eyes became momentary confusion, then grateful joy and the tightly drawn mouth turned into a small grin, followed quickly by a wide smile. In what Sara guessed was probably an unconscious gesture, Gingers hands caressed her belly, the barely there bulge. Ginger broke into fresh tears; Peter crossed the short distance between them in two strides, and gathered her in his arms, her head coming just to his shoulder, as if they were designed to fit together. Nicks smile was bright, his eyes shining as he glanced toward the mirror, where he knew Sara was, and as the two young lovers dissolved into a world just their own, Peter murmuring over Gingers sobs, Nick shut the door giving them privacy.

A moment later, the door to the observation room opened, Sara was still watching the silent movie unfold in front of her. In the reflection, she saw Nick in the open doorway. "Come on" he said to her mirror image.

"Where to?" Sara asked, turning her back on the movie, like changing the channel.

"Concert hall. Let's see if we can find an empty pill bottle."

"No." Grissom's voice reached a level that was close to whispering, just barely audible. Catherine had the correct idea that Gil was keeping his temper in check. He leaned back in the chair behind his desk, took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off the headache that he knew was coming no matter his actions, and trying to understand the mind of the woman who stood on the other side of his desk, hands on hips, staring at him unbelieving that he wasn't willing to break the rules and run a DNA comparison that had nothing at all to do with the case at hand. It was bad enough she'd run the victims DNA against the girls, that Grissom could at least argue had a little to do with the case, (after all, if she wasn't a niece, as Warrick had protested, then who was she? DNA was the only answer) but the girls paternity had nothing what so ever to do with it. And to use the lab for personal issues…well, Catherine of all people should know better.

"…it's as much my case as it is yours, and Warrick is my…" her familiar tirade broke though his thoughts, and Grissom held up his hand, cutting her off.

He was silent for a moment; the only sound was the buzz of the florescent lights overhead.

"Did you learn nothing from the Braun case?" His voice was still a controlled whisper.

"This is different, this-"

"How? How is it different Catherine?"

"Neither DNA sample is evidentiary… Ginger isn't a suspect…"

"Yes, she is."

Catherine starred at him for a moment, unbelieving. "You consider a seventeen year old pregnant girl a suspect?"

"You know as well as I do, anyone is capable of anything." Catherine opened her mouth but Gil cut her off before she had the chance to start in again. "No. And that's final."

Again, Catherine was silent, staring at him, taking deep breaths. "Fine." She turned on her heel and sauntered out of his office.

Grissom watched her leave, and rubbed the bridge of his nose again, knowing this wasn't the end of the conversation.