Author's Note: Hm... Sara being naive... Haldir's Heart and Soul brought this up, I just wanted to address it here for the class, because I can understand how one can interpret her behavior as being naive. But let's consider what she knows about Danny versus what we know about Danny. Sara knows: A) That Danny is a sixteen-year-old boy, small for his age, and abused by his father. B) That he was present at a crime scene (but may not have committed the actual crime) C) That he's scared as hell. I agree that she IS taking a little bit of a leap of faith on this kid, but in my personal opinion, I don't think she's being naive. You're free to think so, however, and don't apologize for it. Maybe I'm naive too, so I wrote Sara that way. (Shrugs). Anyways, the resolution to Chapter Seven's deadly cliffhanger. Sorry for the obscenely short chapter, but I figured it had a lot of information you can sort through, so while quantity is lacking, quality isn't. And besides, Chapter Ten is quite long, for these chapters anyway. Enjoy. Oh, and it's totally awesome you're reviewing, great to know you're reading and loving it, but "update soon" is a little redundant when it comes to me, as I generally do. Thanks for the feedback nonetheless though, and, the hell with it, if you want to say "Update Soon!" again in your next review, it's no skin off my nose. ;o)

PS: Sorry for the delay. I was going to update this morning, but my usual cafe's internet was down, so I was wireless-less ;o)

Chapter Nine: Greg's Story

"You had something for me?"

Greg startled Grissom and he looked up from the card before slowly nodding. "Sit down, Greg," he said. Looking confused, Greg did so. Grissom pushed the card, photograph, and envelope across the table to the young CSI, who took it all and looked at it. His confused expression slowly dissolved into one of utter coldness as he stared at what the inside of the card said. Greg took the photo and looked at it, flipping it over like Grissom had done, though he didn't look at the perverse drawing for nearly as long as Grissom had. Instead, he rose to his feet, tucked the photo into the card and the card into the envelope and nodded at Grissom.

"Thanks, Grissom," he said, his voice low. "I'll, uh… Get back to work now."

"Greg," Grissom said as Greg made for the door. "I know a threat when I see one. What's going on?"

Greg's back was to him, but Grissom saw his head bend forward and his shoulders slump. He continued towards the exit, and Grissom was about to call his name again when he saw that Greg was just closing the door, not leaving. When this was done, he turned to Grissom with a blank stare.

"OK," he said. "What do you want to know?"

Grissom nodded at the card in Greg's hand. "What does that mean?"

"I don't know," Greg said. "I mean…" He took a seat across from Grissom. "When I was a kid, I had a sister."

"Apparently," Grissom said. "But you told me you were an only child."

"I am now."

Grissom nodded, quietly. "OK. What happened to her?"

"She was six years old and it was Christmas Eve," Greg explained. "And… we were listening to Brenda Lee. And we were laughing, and singing, and Lucy was so excited…" He laughed at the memory of it, then shook his head. "And then…" he swallowed. "He broke into our house. He had a gun. He told us to get under the table and not to move and he proceeded to rob the house. Lucy started… crying. I mean, you couldn't blame her, I almost started crying myself. He told us to shut her up, but she couldn't help it. He took everything of value he could see, then headed for our Christmas tree. She screamed when he picked up one of the presents. He thought by the way she was screaming that it was something valuable. But it was a…" He closed his eyes tight and held his breath before continuing. "It was just a picture she had drawn for Mom. She'd put it in a box, and I helped her wrap it… She didn't want him to open it, she said. She told him it wasn't Christmas yet, and that present was for Mom, not for him. I tried to keep her quiet, I put my hand over her mouth, but the guy wasn't amused. He took out his gun and pointed it right at my baby sister…"

"He killed her," Grissom deduced after Greg trailed off.

To his surprise, Greg shook his head. "Not then. My mom let out a crazy shriek— I told you how protective she was of me. Multiply that by ten and you got how insane she was over Lucy. My sister was pale and small, and so fragile. She was born prematurely, and always seemed a little weaker than she probably should have been. Anyways, the guy turned on my mother and slapped her across the face. I gathered Lucy into a huge hug and she held on tight to me. The guy noticed. He told me to move. I didn't. He told me he would kill me too, that he had no problem with that. And Grissom… I let her go."

The tears were making their way unbidden down his cheeks now and he looked away. "I was only ten years old. I was scared. But Lucy, she held on to my neck so tightly, and my mother told me to… protect her. And the guy was yelling at me to let her go or he'd put a bullet in both our brains. They hadn't noticed that my grip on her had slackened, that I was trying to break the death-grip her arms had around my neck. She was screaming so loud, Grissom… And then I did it. I pushed my sister back onto the floor and stared at her, and she stared at me. And that's when he took out his gun and shot her. And she was still looking at me. Even as the blood poured out of her skull. And my eyes never left her…

"My mom was sobbing hysterically, yelling, screaming, struggling against my father's grip to run to her baby. The man holstered his gun and shouldered his sack of prizes like some grotesque, backwards Santa Claus before looking at us all in turn. He told us if we didn't tell the police what he looked like, he would let us live. But if he found out we gave them a description, he'd come back and kill us all."

Greg wiped the tears off his cheeks and shook his head. "But that was a long time ago. I don't like to think about it, really."

"Did you ever tell the police about this guy?" Grissom asked.

Greg shook his head. "I mean, not at first. My mother, she wouldn't talk to me for weeks. She had some sort of break down, you couldn't get a coherent sentence out of her that wasn't 'He killed my baby.' What's worse, sometimes she'd look directly at me when she said it. Sometimes, she'd even point."

"Greg…" Grissom said slowly, not exactly sure of what to say to reassure his young friend.

"To tell you the truth, I don't know if she's ever really forgiven me," Greg said. "I mean, she got over it, she got counseling, and she was fine again after a month or so. I mean, she wasn't crazy anymore. For a while, because of her behavior, and Dad's and my reluctance to describe our attacker, the cops thought that I…" He swallowed. "That I'd fired the gun. Me. A ten-year-old boy kill his six-year-old sister over sibling rivalry. My mother was acting so crazy, they assumed it had to be something more hideous than just watching her daughter die. It had to be watching her son kill her daughter, a conflict of loyalties. As if watching your daughter die isn't hideous enough.

"Anyway, when my mom was… recovering… Dad and I decided it would be best… to tell the police what he looked like, to help clear my name. I mean, he wasn't wearing a mask, and I never forget a face. So we did. But by that time, it was far too late. He had probably already left the state by then. And when my mother was lucid again, she told them I didn't kill Lucy. So that cleared that mess up.

"When my mom got better, she never let me out of her sights for a second. I mean, it was bad before, but her protectiveness had reached… insane levels. When I graduated early and was headed off to college, she wanted to move in with me, saying I wasn't old enough to live by myself, claiming something might happen. She infringed on my life to the point of making me so miserable sometimes because she chased away most of the friends I made. My mother loves me, Grissom. But I think she also hates me a little, too."

Grissom knew it was finally his time to speak, but while he was a master with the words of philosophers and poets, when it came to coming up with his own to soothed damaged souls, he always found himself grasping at straws. So he did what he always did when he found himself lost for words. He borrowed them from someone else. "A mother's love is peace. It need not be acquired, it need not be deserved."

"And where's that from?" Greg muttered.

"Erick Fromm."

"Never heard of him," Greg said.

"He was a psychologist," Grissom told him.

Greg scoffed. "Figures a psychologist would talk about love like that."

"Would you prefer Washington Irving?" Grissom asked.

"What's he got to say about it?" Greg inquired.

Grissom smiled. "A father may turn his back on his child, brothers and sisters may become inveterate enemies, husbands may desert their wives, wives their husbands. But a mother's love endures through all."

"Right…" Greg said.

"I'm sorry you had to relive all that, Greg," Grissom said quietly. "In fact, I'm sorry it happened to you at all. But if this guy is our Sneaky Santa Killer…"

"Then I'm the reason he's here," Greg said.

"Greg, that's not what I—"

"But it's true," Greg said. "Look at the card, look what it says. He's mocking me. He came to Vegas because of me. Those families might still be alive if I had just—"

"If you had just what, Greg?" Grissom asked. "Held on to your sister and let him kill you too? What good would that have done?"

"If I had just turned him in in the first place," Greg finished.

"You can't know if they would have caught him if you'd told them earlier," Grissom said. "And it probably wouldn't have changed much else if they didn't."

"If being the key word," Greg muttered.

Grissom sighed. "Look. Sara, Nick and Warrick are on that case, so they'll deal with it."

"Do they have to…?" Greg didn't finish the question but he didn't have to.

"It's evidence, Greg," Grissom replied, sounding truly remorseful. "I'm sorry, but they have to know."

"Can't you like… disguise my identity or something?" Greg begged. "Do all three of them have to know? Can you just tell one of them? It's not something I want advertised around the lab, you know?"

There was a knock at the closed door. "Grissom?" Warrick's voice called. "You in there?"

"Yes, Warrick, come in," Grissom replied and the door opened showing not only Warrick, but Nick as well.

"You guys haven't been loitering about out there, have you…?" Greg asked with a nervous laugh. Warrick looked at him curiously momentarily before dismissing it. But Nick's inscrutable gaze didn't leave Greg. Greg became so uncomfortable that he had to look away.

"Nah, we just got here," Warrick said to Grissom.

"And Sara just skedaddled," Nick added, tearing his eyes off of Greg. "One of those, 'no time to explain!' emergencies."

"I hate those," Grissom sighed. "I never know what they might entail. I guess there's no point in worrying now, though." He looked at Greg for a moment, and Greg began to fidget uncomfortably. He took a deep breath. He wanted to tell Greg that they would understand. He wanted to tell Greg that it would all turn out OK, even though he wasn't sure of either of these things. But it was part of a case. It was necessary that they know. It couldn't be helped. "Meanwhile, Greg has some new evidence for your case."

Greg's eyes fell away from Grissom and his head slumped again in defeat. "Can I talk to Sara?" he mumbled timidly. "Please?"

Grissom knew Greg wasn't close with Warrick, and was bickering with Nick, so Sara was probably the one he would be most comfortable speaking with. But unfortunately, Sara had run out on them, and he needed this case solved now. "I wish you could, Greg," he said, sounding unusually sympathetic for Grissom.

"I can wait," Greg said anxiously, looking up at Grissom. "I can wait for Sara to come back and I can tell her then."

"I need this case solved as fast as possible, Greg," Grissom said, matter-of-factly. His voice had returned to normal volumes, his tone more characteristically Grissom-like. "Another family could be murdered tonight. If we can figure out anything about him, maybe we can stop that from happening."

And then, Nick broke into the conversation. "If this is something personal, Greg…" he began, making both Greg and Grissom turn to him, "then you can… talk to me about it. If you want."

Greg's eyes seem to widen, and then a smile slowly lit up his face. "Um… Yeah. Sure, OK, I'll talk to Nick," he said.

Grissom smiled.