Author's Note: So this was mostly a filler chapter, so to make it interesting I added a nifty little cliff hanger there at the end. I hope you can follow all the different plots going on. I know it's a lot to handle. I'll sum up what's going on with everyone next chapter for you guys.

Chapter Seven: Lost and Found

Rather than stand there in the layout room like an idiot, Catherine decided it was best if she slipped out surreptitiously after Nick had abandoned her. Regret began to well up inside of her and she scolded herself for being so impulsive. She shouldn't have been doing that. And now, someone had seen them, and probably got the wrong impression… As she tried to keep her cheeks from flushing, she pushed all thoughts of the strange, spontaneous event and decided instead to focus on her job, which, she reminded herself, was what she and Nick were both there for in the first place. She walked down the hall towards DNA in order to ask Wendy what she had gotten off the fingernail scrapings Greg sent in.

"Skin cells," Wendy chirped cheerily as she handed the paper to Catherine. "Under the son's fingernails."

"And you got a match?" Catherine asked with a raise of her eyebrows.

"Yes and no," Wendy said. "He's not in any of our systems, but he does have several alleles in common with the boy. And the little girl, for that matter."

Catherine looked floored. "A sibling?" she exclaimed.

"Looks like," Wendy replied.

"But… that's impossible!" Catherine said, staring at the papers. "I looked at the photos on that mantelpiece… It was the mom, the dad and the two kids, there wasn't another son!"

"What did you find when you notified the next of kin?" Wendy asked.

"A cousin of the father in Aberdeen, Washington," Catherine said, shaking her head slowly. "That was the best we got. And he didn't mention anything about another son, he only knew of the two kids… There's a sister of the mother's, but we haven't been able to reach her."

"Well," Wendy continued. "I thought you'd find it fishy, so I ran the evidence against the parents as well. He shares half his mother's genes, but Daddy isn't really his daddy."

Catherine frowned. "Mom had another child? Maybe she never told her husband about it?"

"That's what it looks like," Wendy said. "If you say no one who knew the family knew of another son, then that would be my best guess."

Sara entered behind Catherine. "Hey," she said to Wendy, sounding winded.

Catherine turned and frowned at her pale face. "What happened to you?"

"Aw," Sara said, dismissively. "One of my witnesses is having trouble at home. Listen, I think I took some of your crime scene photos by mistake." She began shuffling through the photos in her hands. "Saw this bloody footprint Greg photographed, and I knew by the wrinkled dollar bill he used that he'd forgotten his measurements again." She smiled. "He does that a lot."

Catherine took the photo and frowned at it. "Thanks, Sara. Hopefully Greg ran this through the SoleMate database already…" And then something occurred to her. "Hey, Sara, you haven't… seen anything strange around here lately, have you?"

Sara thought for a moment. "Define strange."

But her lack of understanding was enough to reassure Catherine. She wasn't the one. "Never mind. How's your case coming?"

"I was about to ask Wendy that same question, actually," Sara said, looking at the lab tech.

But Wendy shook her head. "Sorry. I'm backed up here. Catherine's lucky I just got the results for her. I'm still working cases from last month."

"Catherine's case got priority over mine?" Sara asked, looking at Catherine.

"Well, at the time, Ecklie pushed it to the top," Wendy explained quickly. "We thought it was Sneaky Santa. And then yours came in… You're next on my list, I promise."

Sara nodded. "Well, I'm off to go find Warrick and Nick then, they should have some info for me."

Catherine sighed. "Poor Warrick. He was supposed to have the night off."

"Hey, we all were," Sara replied. "But we've all been working over time this month to catch this guy. From what I hear, Grissom actually called Warrick in the middle of his Christmas dinner with his wife's family."

Catherine cringed. "Ooh, I bet Tina didn't like that."

Sara chuckled. "I bet not. Hey, have you seen Nick? I haven't seen him since he asked to talk to you."

"Uh, yeah, me neither," Catherine said honestly, but still a little nervous. "He's probably with Warrick. Seen Greg around?"

Sara rolled her eyes. "He tried to get me to put up mistletoe."

"That's festive," Catherine said.

"It's unprofessional," Sara corrected.

"Aw, you're no fun," said Catherine playfully.

Sara looked pensive. "You know, I never understood mistletoe. It's just an excuse for desperate guys to get kisses from girls."

"Or vice versa," Catherine pointed out.

Sara laughed. "Right, I can see you totally jumping… I don't know, Nick or someone if he pinned up mistletoe… Catherine, are you blushing?"

"No," Catherine said quickly. "I need to find Greg. Bye."

Sara was confused for only an instant until she embarked on her own search for Nick and Warrick.

"Hey, Nick, what's up?" Warrick asked as he bumped into him in the hall.

"Nothing!" he snapped, a little too hastily.

Warrick was taken aback. "Calm down, man, I was just saying hello."

Nick sighed and relaxed. "I know, Warrick, I'm sorry… Did you get anything out of trace?"

"Hodges claims he's backlogged," Warrick replied. "But that our case is top priority."

"I thought Greg said he got something back from Hodges earlier," Nick growled, sounding irritated as he spoke Greg's name.

"Uh… At the time, Greg's case was top priority," Warrick replied. "It was called in first with Sneaky Santa written all over it. Remember?"

"Whatever…" Nick muttered.

Warrick frowned as he tried to catch his friend's eye. "Are you and Greg OK, man?"

"We're fine," Nick replied hastily.

"Really?" Warrick asked, a smile creeping on his face. "Because I could have sworn I heard him say he wasn't done yelling at you from way back down that way." He gestured down the hall, from the way he'd come.

Nick sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Yeah, um, OK, we had a little spat…"

"Want to talk about—"

"No," Nick said firmly, cutting him off.

Warrick nodded. "OK," he said simply.

Their phones went off simultaneously and they both looked down, taking them out to see that they had each received identical messages from Sara.

Where the hell r u guys?

Warrick chuckled. "I can't believe she used that slang."

"Keeps things quick," Nick replied. "Come on, let's go find her."

"Excuse me," a teenage boy in a UPS cap said, walking up to Nick and Warrick. The two CSIs turned and frowned at the boy curiously.

"Can I help you, kid?" Nick asked, eying the envelope the boy was carrying skeptically.

"Yeah, I'm looking for a…" He looked at the name on the envelope. "Greg Sanders?"

"You can just drop that off at the front desk, he'll pick it up there," Warrick said as he saw Nick tense up.

"I would," said the delivery boy, "but I have orders to deliver this directly to him. I've been looking for him everywhere. Could you just help me out?"

"He was in Gil Grissom's office last I saw him," Nick said slowly. "Try there."

"Thank you," said the delivery boy and he headed off in that direction.

There was a knock on the door he was leaning on.

"Ocupado," Greg called to his faceless visitor.

"Get out of my office, Greg."

He froze momentarily before looking around the room he was in for the first time since Nick had first pushed him in there. Bugs… everywhere.

"Dammit, Grissom," Greg said as he clambered to his feet. "Out of all the offices I could have walked into…"

He opened the door to an inscrutable Grissom, who finished his sentence. "You had to walk into mine."

"Actually, to be more accurate, I was shoved in here," Greg said. "Against my will."

"Apparently, nothing stopped you from leaving, though," Grissom replied, making his way past Greg to his desk where he set down some evidence before sitting down in his chair. Greg stared at him as he started to work. Grissom seemed to realize he was still there and looked up at him.

"I could have sworn I assigned you to a case earlier…"

"Sarcasm doesn't become you," Greg muttered.

Grissom frowned. "Is something the matter, Greg?"

Greg opened his mouth to reply but bit his tongue. It wasn't his secret to tell. "I got in a fight with Nick."

"You look like you came out of it relatively unscathed," Grissom noted.

"Yeah, well…" Greg sighed as he fell into the chair in front of Grissom's desk. "Not all the scars are visible."

Grissom nodded in understanding. "That bad?"

"No," Greg said. "I mean, not really. It could have been a lot worse. It was just weird. One minute we're just talking, and the next… boom!"

"Boom…" Grissom repeated. "Well, you're not working with Nick. So maybe helping Catherine out with your case will help to distract you."

"Grissom, I need a distraction to distract me from my distractions," Greg said. "My mind is all over the place tonight."

"Yeah, so's mine," Grissom said. "The whole lab is working overtime, Brass tells me Sara's seconds away from calling social services on a witness's father, I have to bake Warrick a pie, and this Sneaky Santa thing is really beginning to give me a headache."

"You need to bake Warrick a…"

"Don't ask," Grissom interrupted. "Go work."

"Sure thing, Boss," Greg said, jumping to his feet. He left quickly and was walking down the hallway when he ran into Catherine and tried not to show his unease.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey," he replied, trying to act natural.

She showed him one of the crime scene photos. "So I'm guessing you already ran the tread through the SoleMate database?"

Greg looked at the photo. "What? Oh, yeah… Yeah, um… Skechers, boy's junior-size seven… This guy has small feet."

"Either that or we're dealing with a kid, which I doubt," Catherine said. "Did the guy who jumped us look small enough to wear that kind of shoe to you?"

"He was out of the junior sizes by far," Greg said.

"Hey," Sara called as she past the two of them.

"What are you, following me, Sidle?" Catherine said with a smirk.

Sara smirked back, then turned to Greg. "Have you seen Nick and Warrick? I swear, you'd think this place was a maze with how easily people get lost in here."

Greg looked away at the mention of Nick. "No, I haven't seen him," he said.

Sara looked at Catherine. "Did you get a shoe to match the tread?"

"Skechers, boys junior-size seven," Catherine replied.

"Your guy is young…" Sara said, looking surprised. And then, her brow furrowed and she looked away. "Bloody footprint. Right?"

Catherine and Greg nodded. Sara looked confused and she began to walk away. "Uh… good luck with… finding him…" She said distractedly and made her way down the hall.

"What's up with her?" Greg asked, but Catherine simply shrugged.

There was a knock on his door and Grissom looked up at the delivery boy.

"Yes?" he said in greeting.

"I'm looking for Greg Sanders, I was told he was in here?" the boy replied.

Grissom shook his head. "He was, but you just missed him."

"Dammit…" the boy cursed under his breath. "Look, sir, I've been looking for this guy all night, and, well… I'm supposed to give it to him directly, make sure he gets it, but you look like a pretty reliable guy—"

"I'll be sure he gets it," Grissom said and the delivery boy smiled appreciatively.

"Thanks, sir," he said. He left the envelope on Grissom's desk and he left.

Grissom took the envelope and slid it across his desk out of innocent curiosity. But curiosity quickly elevated to concern at the drawing on the back of the envelope.

It was a caricature of a sinisterly winking Santa Claus dressed in black. He was carrying his sack over his shoulder, only instead of toys poking out of the opening, there were knives and guns and lumps of coal. He spun the envelope back around to look for a return address. There was none. Typical.

Grissom knew it was a crime to open another person's mail without their consent, not to mention a nosey invasion of their privacy. So, still staring at the envelope, he reached for his phone.

"Sanders," came the reply on the other end.

"Greg…" Grissom began slowly. "I have something for you in my office. It looks to be a card or a letter of some sort. Come here and pick it up."

"Can it wait, Grissom? Catherine and I are—"

"No, it can't wait," Grissom said sharply. "May I open it?"

"Who's it from?" Greg asked, sounding curious now.

"No return address," Grissom said.

"That's unusual," Greg replied. "Sure, go ahead and open it, I don't care."

"See you soon…" Grissom said and hung up.

He looked at the envelope again before breaking the seal and opening it. He pulled out a common red and green Christmas card that looked to be years old by the faded ink and the worn crease. The front of it read, Happy Holidays from the Sanders Family in embossed gold. When he opened it up, a photograph tumbled out and Grissom found himself looking at a family in a photo that appeared to be from the 1980s. There was a lovely mother, with curly dark blonde hair hanging on the arm of a proud looking father with graying black hair. His hand was on the shoulder of a son, who stood in front of him, making a goofy face at the camera and beside him, standing in front of her mother, was a curly-haired daughter, who was laughing at her brother's funny face. The family was wearing their Sunday best as they stood in front of a fireplace with stockings hanging on it next to a Christmas tree. Grissom turned the photograph around and was surprised at what he saw.

It was an elaborate sketch of a decapitated angel with curly hair. Her body lay on a cloud while the blood rained down from her neck onto the earthly wasteland below where her head had fallen. The head stared up at the viewer with cold, glassy eyes, its mouth partially open.

Beneath the strangely haunting sketch was a date. Christmas, 1985. With love, from Olivia, Mark, Greg and Lucy.

Grissom put the photo down and opened up the card. Inside was another caricature of the Santa Claus on the envelope, as well as a note, five simple words penned in blood red ink.

It's all for you, Greg.