"Where's Greg?" the older man asked brusquely as he nearly ran over someone in his haste. Catherine Willows quirked an eyebrow at him, side-stepping to avoid a full-on collision.
Brushing off her ruby silk V-neck shirt, the strawberry blonde nodded her head in the direction of the break room. "Still with Robyn." At Grissom's perplexed stare, explained. "The little girl. They're like Siamese twins, one never without the other," she joked. The humor fell flat at the apprehensive look on her colleague's face. "Is something wrong?" Her forehead wrinkled in concern.
Grissom gave her a withering look. "Where are they?" he demanded calmly. Only his troubled dark eyes gave him away.
"Break room. Been in there all day. Why?" she called out as he took off full speed down the hall. He had swung open the doors to the windowed room by the time she had caught up to him. "What the hell is going on, Gil?" Entering behind Grissom, Catherine looked to see that Robyn had scattered from her coloring book and crayons in fright. The poor child was now holding Sara's hand tightly, the small knuckles turning white. Greg was nowhere in sight. "What's going on?"
Sara looked between her supervisor and her female colleague in confusion, holding the young girl clamped on her arm in an awkward hug. "Uh….what's going on?"
Catherine huffed and looked pointedly at Grissom. "That's what I've been asking."
Ignoring the women's questions, Grissom peered outside the door. "Where's Greg?" he inquired a bit harshly. Robyn cringed at his tone and strengthened her grasp on Sara. In turn, the brunette glared at the salt-n-pepper-haired man.
"You're scaring her," she snapped as the subject of all the ruckus entered the room at that precise moment.
The room was bristling with tension. Grissom was waiting for him impatiently, with both Catherine and Sara glowering at the older man. But that didn't worry him the most-his little friend was practically super glued to Sara, and appeared to be almost frightened to death. "What's with the party?" Greg asked. In unison the female CSIs nodded their heads towards Grissom.
Grissom rubbed his face wearily. "Sara, take Robyn to see Archie. Catherine, I'd like to talk to Greg alone." When neither woman made a move, the older man sighed in exasperation. "Will you two please leave?"
Robyn pointed a shaky finger at Grissom. "I don't like him, Sara," she whispered timidly. Overhearing, Catherine laughed and knelt down so that she could be at eye-level with the young girl.
"Don't worry, he scares us too sometimes," the motherly woman smiled warmly.
Mouth set in a grim line, Grissom kept a stoic face. "I need you three to leave," he repeated firmly.
After a moment, the group reluctantly left, Sara giving Greg a comforting smile before taking Robyn to sit on a nearby bench.
"Close the door."
Complying, the messy-haired CSI quietly shut the door before turning to his boss. "What's up, Grissom?"
A paper was thrust into Greg's hands, and with a puzzled glance Greg read the DNA test results. His eyes widened as he saw that the young girl was the daughter of the victim, and that the DNA database had found a match for the other set of genes. "Match found-Greg Sanders." Clearing his throat, Greg seemed to be in shock. "How is that possible?" he stammered, letting the paper fall to the ground.
Outside, Sara caught a glimpse of the text written on the paper as her friend dropped it. Next to her, Catherine knit her brow. "What does that report have to do with anything?" the older woman inquired, unable to read what was written.
Robyn looked at the two of them. "Is Daddy in trouble?" Her lip quivered nervously as she turned to them with wide eyes.
"He's not your daddy, Robyn honey," Catherine corrected softly, aqua eyes feeling compassion for the little girl. "We don't know who your father is yet." Before Robyn could say anything else, Greg's voice rang loud and clear through the crime lab.
"So you're telling me I'm the dad of this little girl?"
Silence instantly fell over those within earshot.
Dumbstruck, Catherine gaped at Sara, who paled, whether in shock or anger, one couldn't guess. As the quiet settled thickly like a London fog, a small voice piped up. "He's my daddy, of course!" Robyn grinned happily.