Chapter 3

Grissom stood inside the lab room, listening to his cockroaches and then hearing the door slam. His shoulders slumped as his emotions raged. He walked to his drawing board and turned on the CD player. Allison Krauss's haunting solo efforts in 'Stay' started to play. He pulled out his sketchbook and picked up his pencil.

10:00pm

Sara walked into the break room to hand out assignments. Greg and Brian were quietly talking about something but stopped when they saw Sara.

"What?" she asked as she sat down at the table.

"Judy told Steven that an FBI agent was in this morning and spoke to Ecklie. He took copies of all of our findings so far." Greg said.

Sara groaned inwardly and returned her focus to the assignments.

"So, no Grissom tonight?" Brian asked.

"No, he's taking a personal day. Okay, we're all heading to the zoo. Seems one of the employees found a body."

"Cool, I hope it's in the reptile house," Greg remarked, standing quickly.

"Meet you in the parking lot." Sara said.

"Right," Greg replied, walking to the locker room with Brian to get their vests.

Sara walked into the cool night air to be alone but was disturbed by her phone.

"Sidle,"

"Hi,"

"Hi, Jim,"

"How is he?"

Sara was silent on the phone, trying to formulate her response.

"Kiddo?"

"He had two phone calls that upset him. We had a fight. I left him. Jim, I just can't do it. He doesn't want my help. He wants to be left alone." Sara replied into the phone softly.

"Oh, Cookie, I'm sorry. Look, I've rearranged my schedule so I can be with him tomorrow. I'll call over now and check on him."

"I don't think the phone works."

"Ah, okay, I'll drive over and see him,"

"Thanks, Jim," Sara said, her voice trembling.

"It's gonna work out," Jim said, trying to convince himself as well.

"I hope so. I have to go. I'll talk to you later." Sara said, seeing Greg and Brian exit the lab.

"Okay, have a safe night," Brass said.

"Bye,"

"Bye,"

Brass left his office and headed for his car, almost making it before his phone rang again.

"Brass,"

"It's Roger, I'm at the airport. Can you pick me up?"

"Well, of course." Brass said, getting into his car. "What are you doing in Vegas?"

"I found out a lot about Grissom Senior, and the FBI investigation. I understand that there is a meeting at Sheriff Atwater's office tomorrow. Moss needs counsel, so I dusted off my degree, and here I am." Roger explained.

"I'm on my way. Be outside in the middle lane."

"I'll see you soon.

Twenty five minutes later, Brass pulled into McCarran and slowly rolled through, looking for Roger. Spotting him he blinked his headlights. Roger waved and quickly walked up to the car. He opened the back door and threw in a thick briefcase and a small bag. Shutting the back door, he opened the passenger door and slid in. He attached his shoulder harness and Jim pulled away from the curb. They drove in silence until Brass pulled up to Grissom's townhouse.

"What's happened?" Roger asked with concern

Brass put the car into park and settled back, giving Roger a précis of the last two days.

"Tonight, he and Sara had a fight, and she left him. I don't think it's permanent, but she is at a loss. He's shutting her out again."

"Well, it's ten-forty five. I think we have some venting to do before this meeting tomorrow." Roger said, mysteriously, as he left the Taurus.

Brass shut off the engine and got out of the car. Roger picked up his briefcase and bag and looked around him. He looked down the road. Brass followed his gaze and saw the black Buick Century. They headed up the stairs as Brass searched for his keys. He opened the townhouse door and they walked in. Roger shut and locked the door behind him and then walked through the living room to the kitchen, setting his briefcase on the floor in the midst of the phone debris. Brass followed the faint strains of music to the lab room. He opened the door and found Grissom, head resting softly on his crossed arms over his drawing board. Tapping his foot on the floor, Brass stood five feet away and watched Grissom as he woke.

"What's wrong? Why are you here?" Grissom said, aggressively.

"Come to the living room, we're gonna tie one on," Brass said.

Frowning, Grissom stood and walked out of the lab room. Brass looked at the table and saw a sealed envelope with Sara's name on it. Beside it were four pencil sketches; Grissom Senior at the morgue, Sara angry, Father Tim, and a self-portrait. He heard voices in the living room and so Brass left the lab room.

"Roger, I can hardly say that I am surprised by your appearance." Grissom said, standing in the dining area, a fair distance away from him.

"Moss, the more I investigated, the more intrigued I became. The more intrigued I became, the more worried I was about you. So I packed up my research, took Noble to Annie's, and headed down here." Roger explained.

Brass walked through the debris field to the kitchen.

"What, Gil, you weren't happy with your long distance provider?" he deadpanned as he opened the fridge.

"I don't know what they want from me. I just want to be left alone. They keep judging me." Grissom said, turning on the stereo.

The music played. It was a combination album that Sara had made for him. She had chosen the songs with the hopes that they would relax him.

"Who?" Roger asked.

"Everyone," Grissom whispered as he sank into a chair, resting his head on the back cushion.

Roger leaned down, slid the doors opened, and pulled the bottles of Maker's Mark and Jameson's onto the counter. Jim put an ice cube in each glass while Roger poured liberally. Taking a sip of his whiskey, Jim removed the cheese from the fridge and found crackers as well. Setting up a cheese plate he walked to the living room and sat down. Roger walked the drinks over and sat as well.

"Moss, you don't look so good. When was the last time you ate?" Roger asked, cutting the cheese into small chunks.

Grissom opened his eyes and sat up slightly. He reached for his drink and took a sip. Letting the liquid sit in his mouth before swallowing, he watched as Brass took his jacket, gun, cuffs and badge off.

"I can't remember." Grissom said, honestly.

"Here, eat some cheese," Roger suggested, handing him a chunk on the end of the knife.

"Thanks,"

They sat silently, listening to the music, sipping their drinks. Grissom quietly ate two more pieces of cheese, rubbing his temple, lost in thought. Suddenly, he got up, setting his glass on the coffee table before disappearing into the lab room. He turned on his computer and looked at his watch. He mother might be up, but she wouldn't be on the computer. He couldn't talk to her tonight, but he needed her. Writing would have to do. Finally his computer found the internet and he logged on. He wrote for fifteen minutes before pressing send . Shutting down his computer, he walked into the living room. A large portion of the cheese was missing and all of the drinks were fresh. Someone had cleaned up the phone mess. He headed to the kitchen bar.

"Jim, there's something you should listen to. Come get me when you're through." Grissom said, hitting the 'play' button before picking up his drink and escaping back to the lab room.

Roger walked into the lab room and wasn't surprised to see Grissom drawing. Music that was unfamiliar to Roger was playing softly from a portable stereo. He walked up behind Grissom.

"Hi," Grissom said, continuing to draw his pen and ink sketch.

"Hi, we're ready for you,"

"Almost done," Grissom replied, not looking up.

Roger stood at his side and watched him finish a sketch of the altar of a church. The use of hatch and crosshatch made it look very old. Grissom reached down into a drawer and removed a manila envelope. He took the drawing from the pad, making sure it was dry, before placing it in the envelope. He turned it over and addressed it before sealing it. Turning off the CD player, he picked up his glass and he followed Roger out into the living room.

"Give this to Tim, the next time you see him, okay?" Grissom asked, handing the envelope to Brass.

"Okay,"

Grissom headed to the kitchen and filled his glass with Maker's Mark, topping it off with a half-inch of water. As he walked back into the living room, he noted that his answering machine was gone. Sighing, he sat down on the sofa. Roger had brought his briefcase to the coffee table. Opening it he took out four thick file folders. One Grissom recognized from his stay at Elko. Taking a large mouthful of his drink, Grissom nodded and Roger began.

"First of all, your parents never legally divorced. Your father just left you and your mother. This will become important later. Your father was an importer, primarily with China but also Vietnam and Thailand. He traded in guns and drugs; living all over the world. He was a very powerful man. In January 2001, he made a mistake and crossed Christopher Kang. Kang controlled most of the opium and heroin in China. The Chinese government had been trying to get Kang just as the U.S. government had been trying to get your father. When your father realized that Kang had put out a hit on him, he gave himself up to the embassy in Shanghai. He gave the government the information to take down Kang in return for immunity and…"

"He went into the witness protection program in the U.S." Grissom finished for him.

"Yes, exactly. He was supposed to be at F.B.I. headquarters at the Twin Towers on September 11, at 9:00am. We know now, he missed his appointment."

"His fingers," Grissom said, softly.

"What?" Roger asked.

"His fingerprints were acid etched off."

"Yes, he didn't trust the F.B.I. to protect his identity, so he hired someone from his past to erase his fingerprints."

Grissom got up, needing to walk. His limp was pronounced as he sipped his drink.

"When the government thought he had died, there was a call to arms about the money."

"What money?" Brass asked.

"In 2001, it was seven point two million dollars; all clean and legit. Of course, the government knew how he earned that money and they wanted it. It's been held up internally with the lawyers."

"Why wasn't I notified?"

"Well, being in the witness protection program, the paper trail is convoluted at best. From what I understand, they didn't want you involved until they could tell you one way or the other about the money. Oh, and at the time, the will, such as it was, wasn't legit. That changed yesterday. There was a detailed legal will found in his hotel room by a …Greg Sanders." Roger said, reading from his notes.

Grissom smiled briefly.

"What do the Feds want with me?" Grissom asked, his voice betraying his emotions.

"They want the money. They want to know what your father had been doing for the last four years. You're his son, they figure you spoke." Roger replied, slipping his folders back into his briefcase.

Grissom continued to pace and suddenly bolted to the bathroom.

"I'll go," Jim said, walking quickly to the bathroom.

Grissom was on his knees, retching. When he was finished, he rocked back onto his heels. Jim was frightened by the sight of blood around Grissom's mouth and in the toilet bowl. Reaching for a washcloth, Jim put it in the sink and soaked it with cold water. First he put in on Grissom's neck and then he wiped his face. He was shaking and very pale. Jim reached over and flushed the toilet before helping him to his feet. He filled a glass with cold water and handed it to Grissom who swished the liquid in his mouth and spat it out into the sink. Jim glanced at his watch; one thirty.

"Gil, let's get you upstairs. You need a shower and some sleep." Jim said, walking behind him.

Roger looked at Grissom when he passed through into the living room. He looked wiped out. Grissom climbed the stairs and Brass followed him. Flipping the light on in the bedroom, he walked into the bathroom, stripped, and stepped into the shower to wash away the grime of the day. Brass pulled out a t-shirt and a fresh pair of shorts and placed them on the bathroom countertop, returning to the bedroom to wait for his friend. The shower stopped and a few minutes later, Grissom walked into the bedroom. He got into bed and rolled onto his left side. Brass went to the bed and crouched, placing his hand on Grissom's shoulder.

"Just sleep, don't think," he advised.

Getting no response, Brass stood and walked to the door, turning out the light, but keeping the door open. He headed down the circular stairs to the floating sounds of the cello, and a sleeping Roger.

"Roger, you take the guestroom. We need to leave here by 8:30 to get to the Sheriff's office by 9:00am." Brass said.

Roger's eyes opened and he groaned softly, sitting up.

"He okay?" Roger asked, gesturing towards the staircase.

"I think he has an ulcer. This is what Andy warned us could happen. He's been so unhappy since that first case. He's also been under a lot of stress at the lab, probably drinking more, and God knows what medical history he inherited from his father. I just wish he hadn't pushed Sara away. Let's see what tomorrow brings. Good night," Brass said, refreshing his drink.

"Good night," Roger said, standing to retrieve his duffle before heading to the guest room.

Brass removed his shoes and stretched out on the couch. He finished his drink and was asleep almost immediately.