It was seven in the morning, and Warrick was tired as hell. In the last three days, he received about two hours of sleep total. But he still drove home, forcing himself to stay awake. He had a passenger.

Catherine was leaning against the door, fast asleep. She had almost worked herself to death trying to find her daughter. Every now and again, she'd break down and Warrick would be right there to comfort her. But as the night had gone on, she broke down less and less often; her despair had turned into fuel to keep her going for eight hours straight. With her determination and her words to motivate her co-workers, they had found out a lot in very little time.

They've had numerous calls from neighbors saying that they saw a woman and Lindsay get into a car and drive off. Unfortunately, no one got the license plate number. But they had a watch on a small, black Toyota. It was better than nothing. They also had a note from the kidnaper, and fingerprints all over the scene concluded that the kidnaper was defiantly Gloria. An amber alert would be on every news station this morning.

Pulling into his driveway, he sighed heavily at the empty spot in the garage next to his. As he parked the car, Catherine stirred.

"Hey," she said groggily, sitting up straight. She yawned, blinking a few times before smiling sheepishly. "Sorry for blacking out like that, I shouldn't of-"

"It's alright," Warrick said, dismissing her apology with a wave of his hand. "You have too much too worry about," he said, getting out of his car. He walked to the back and opened the backdoor to his truck. He took out Catherine's bag, then walked to the other side and opened Catherine's door. He held out his hand and helped her out.

She was unsteady on her feet. She managed to get inside, however, with the help of Warrick. After that, she had wakened up a little more, and she walked around his living room. "Nice place," she said, wandering around the room.

It was a warm feeling place. She liked the light tan carpet, and the dark brown couches and wooden walls. There wasn't very many decorations, just a few pictures and such. But the simplicity of it was very relaxing.

"Nice place," she said, wandering into the kitchen. She loved everything here. Lindsay would've liked it here. The thought of Lindsay gave her horrible images: her daughter whimpering in a cold, dark room. She went back into the living room, slumping onto the couch and entwining her fingers in her hair.

Warrick came in a moment later, probably just getting back from putting her bags into the guest room. He sat down on the couch next to her.

"Warrick," she said, a tear rolling down her cheek. "I must be the worst mother in the-"

"Hey," he said, wrapping an arm around her and rubbing her arm in comfort. "It's not your fault, Cath," he said. "It comes with the job. Everyone has had something happen to them. You, Gris, Nick, Sara," he said.

"Not you."

Warrick pondered over those words for a second. He never had bad things happen to him due to work. Besides his divorce, anyway.

"You haven't felt the pain, knowing that this is happening to you because of your job," she said, shaking her head in dismay.

Warrick sighed heavily. "I feel it more than you know," he said, then stood up. "I'll show you where your room is," he said, holding out his hand.

Catherine grabbed it, and he hauled her to her feet. She followed him down the hallway, wondering what he had meant by I feel it more than you know. Her first thought was the divorce she wasn't supposed to know about. He seemed fine, he hadn't broken down or even mentioned it when he was with Catherine.

"Here," he said, stopping at the door and motioning for her to go in. She did, and she looked around the room with a weak smile. There was a large bed along the far wall, and a chair in the corner next to the bookcase. There was a wooden cabinet on the wall also, probably containing his clothes. She knew that this was his room. "Warrick, I don't want to intrude. Look, I'll go stay with a friend or something. I'll-"

"Cath," Warrick said, grabbing her shoulders. "It's okay, I'd prefer to have you here, rather than anything else," he said slowly, determined to nail it into her brain. Truthfully, he was a bit nervous about the situation. The suspect had to have something wrong with her, but she was able to track Catherine down. He imagined that if she tried, Gloria could be on his doorstep. Catherine needed to be protected.

Smiling weakly, she nodded. "But where are you going to sleep?" She didn't want him to sleep on the floor or anything, who knew how long she'd be here.

"That couch isn't there just for looks," he said with a smile, letting her go.

Catherine laughed a little. Looking around the room for a few seconds, she then looked back at Warrick with a smile. "Wake me up at noon, okay?" she asked, making Warrick glance at the clock. It was 9 a.m.

"Sure," he said, nodding. He turned to leave the room, but Catherine's voice stopped him.

"Warrick?" she said, looking at his retreating back.

"Yeah?" he answered, stopping and turning around.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

He nodded, then shut the door behind him and went out into the living room. Sitting on the couch, he sighed heavily. Catherine would be here at least a week, if not longer. Catherine wanted to make sure every inch of her house was processed before she even thought of moving back in.

The case was difficult. It wasn't that the suspect, Gloria, was skilled or that she covered her tracks; but she just disappeared. No one had any information that the CSI's didn't know already. But an amber alert had been broadcasted, and all calls went to Brass himself.

Opening a folder with the information gathered on the kidnapping so far, Warrick took out a picture of Lindsay. He smiled at the grin on the teen's face. "We'll find you, Lindsay," he said softly. "We'll find you."