Nick and Warrick awaited tears, a mournful cry, wracking sobs. Instead Isa sat there, her eyes misted over, her ivory skin even more pale than usual. A single tear rolled down to the end of her nose. She looked so delicate, so beautiful.
"My...c-can I see him?"
"He is being examined at the morgue right now, but we can give you a ride over." She flinched...examined. He had already been turned from her best friend to a piece of meat. She let a few more drops fall to her somewhat rosy cheeks and lips before turning to the other man in the room.
"Nick...are you ok?" He turned, just now noticing the pain she felt was a great as his. She motioned for him to come over, and he did. They sat there, cradling and moaning in each other's arms. Warrick looked off, his own heart becoming heavier. Nick had completely fell apart.
"Isa...Oh my God Isa, I-I'm so s-sorry. My fault...he should've never b-been alone...Isa, forgive me..." She cooed into his ear as a mother did her son.
"Shhhh, baby hush. It's not your fault...nobody's blaming you...please, shhh..."
By the time they reached the lab, it was seven fifteen. They were late, by Grissom's time. Few people braved to stare at the young lady. They all had an idea who she was. Isa had changed clothes before she left the apartment. Her hair hung low to her waist, a black sweater tugged around her neck. Her jeans hugged her hips, flared at the end towards her Hushpuppies. Nick stayed behind, Warrick led her towards the morgue.
The farther they headed down, the darker things seemed. The walls turned from pale blue to stale grey. Doctor Robbins was directing a table out of the examining room towards the storage room. This body was not Greg. This was an elderly gentleman, his hair not much lighter than Grissom's. Pausing to look up from his clip board, Robbins took consideration of his new company and prepared for a greeting.
"Warrick, I was expecting Gill to take the Sander's case."
"He is Doctor, this is Greg's wife. Isa, meet Al Robbins." The good doctor stretched forth a warm hand, one in which Isa did not embrace. Robbins knew the question playing on her tongue.
"I briefly looked over your husband. He died of blood loss, that's all I can confirm at the moment. You are welcome to...see him, if you choose such." She looked up into his eyes. Al felt a small chill.
"Tell me, doctor, did you know my husband?"
"...slightly. We never talked outside of work." She paused a minute, allowing the air to warm.
"Was he a good man, to your knowledge?" He nodded.
"Yes, Greg took great care in his cases. He believed in justice. I know that may not be what you want to hear but..."
"I wanted to hear your opinion. You gave it to me. I am pleased Now, if you will excuse me...he is behind those double doors, no? The last table?" Doctor Robbins nodded once again, it seemed all he could do around her. Warrick offered a hand, but she declined. She needed to go alone.
The body of Greg Sanders was an almost unearthly cold. Like rough stone, his skin no longer held much color. A blanket covered everything below his torso. His hair had been combed back from his eyes, sleek on top of his head. Isa could only imagine his eyes, a golden brown. He would no longer shine for her again. He would never sing, never laugh, never cry, never love her again. Isa reached for his hand, her fingertips merely brushing the back of it. He looked...calm. She had seen him only once like this before. It was not long after the lab explosion. He was lying in a hospital bed at that time, propped up on one elbow. He slept so peacefully. He later described it as, when a person has all the worry of the world on their mind they just let it sink in, and soon feel nothing. A million and one things ran through her mind. When they first met at the Fireball, when he proposed to her in Colorado on Christmas. She could see the snowflakes dancing in his hair, his smile melting away the cold. She thought of the funeral, telling his parents, explaining something she didn't really understand herself. How could Greg just...be gone? How was it possible for him to be dancing with her in the shower this morning and now lying on a steel table awaiting his butcher? The world spun around her eyes. She grasped for support. She fell, on top of Greg. She laid there, in horror, shock, heartache. She wanted to die, never reach for another hand. She did not want to return home. She did not want the loneliness to come back. And when Grissom burst through the doors in fury at his partners for allowing his ex-employee' grieving wife to see his body so soon, she fought. She did not want to be separated from Greg. She never wanted to leave. But she did. She found herself in the same pale hallway, sitting, crying into the shoulder of a stranger. Grissom wrapped his arms tightly around her then looked up at Warrick.
"Get to the damn lab, they're gonna let Reynolds walk. Somebody lost the weapon." Warrick's jaw dropped.
"What?"
"The gun he shot Greg with, it's missing...Nick never took it out of the bank."
The next chapter deals with Nick's repercussions...as always r&r. Special thanks to Sammie, girl, you know who ya are! Luv Ya Guys! Sunnygirl91.