Insert generic disclaimer here.
"…Staring right back in the face, a memory can't be erased, I know because I tried. Start to feel the emptiness and everything I'm gonna miss, I know that I can't hide. All this time is passing by I think its time to just move on…"
-Lifehouse "Come Back Down"
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His mind, which normally could process several concepts at once, was malfunctioning. Its was stuck on one signal that kept repeating itself find Sara, find Sara, find Sara, find Sara. His normally slow, contemplative, calm walk had deserted him leaving in its place a quick, hurried, distracted jog. Turning a corner he ran into Catherine, literally. Extending his arm to help her up he forced him mind to listen when she asked him a question.
"Are you ok Grissom?"
Ok? Ok? Oh yeah he was just peachy.
"Have you seen Sara?"
Yep his mind was defiantly one track today.
"Yeah" said Catherine as she brushed herself off. "She headed out the side door towards the parking lot with her box from her desk. She told me to tell you she says good by…"
He new he was being rude by running away in the middle of a conversation but he would make it up to Catherine later. This was important. Skidding around a corner he slammed into the release bar on the door, causing it to open. The bright sunlight blinded him for a moment but he could just make out her retreating form. She was almost there, almost at her car, almost gone.
"Sara wait!"
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As she approached her car the door opened with a slam. She new it was him, who else could it be? Her thoughts were confirmed when his voice rang out behind her.
"Sara wait"
She couldn't stop, if she stopped she'd go back. If she went back it would be readmitting her self to a life of depression, invisibility and longing. She couldn't bear the longing anymore. She was almost there, almost free, almost gone, almost saved.
He didn't get there in time. He was left standing in the parking lot of the LV Crime Lab looking for all the world like a broken man who had just been denied his one true reason for living. In a way that made sense. Gilbert Grissom was a broken man who had just watched his reason for getting up each night drive away in a cloud of Las Vegas dust.