Author's Note: Sorry I didn't get this up earlier today. My Internet wasn't working in the morning (I blame the dorms) and I was in Des Moines all day (which is not nearby) so... Anyways, it's technically still today, at least on my coast it is, so I'm going to post this now and get the other one up tomorrow afternoon. Cheers. Oh, a note on the drugs (waywardkitty): let me just apologize for the inaccuracies, I'm too lazy to correct them. Thanks, though. Also, on Greg's middle name (PisceanPal23): Sure, so I made it up-- Hojem could well be his middle name, even so, I have two middle names-- one was assigned to me because my folks liked it, and the other is my mother's maiden name. So it's possible for Greg to have two middle names too.

Things pretty much continued unaltered over the next month. As Vera's belly swelled, the only ones who knew her secret were Catherine, Greg, Hodges and of course Vera herself.

Sara no longer awoke with nightmares. She slept sounder than Greg had ever seen her sleep, and it pleased him to see her resting so peacefully, even if sleep eluded him. She no longer leapt out of bed to take vigorous showers either, although she still took her daily three when she was awake.

Grissom had seemed to relax around Greg, and things between the two men seemed to have returned to almost normal as they worked together in the lab. But when Sara had returned after her three weeks leave, Grissom had tensed again. Greg hoped that he would be able to win back the entomologist's trust eventually.

Greg, for his part, had substituted the amphetamines to dealing with his problems, although he and Sara both saw Dr. Amy Waterstone on a weekly basis. The drugs had shown little side effects, at least in Greg's eyes. They threw off his sleeping patterns, but he adjusted and made excuses which people willingly accepted. Sometimes he felt overly stimulated and aggressive, but he tended to take it out on suspects or he would hit the gym. To his great pleasure, he felt that they gave him the confidence to push Sara just enough to make her push back, and their relationship was flourishing because of it.

It was because of these things that he ignored the jittery restlessness his muscles would feel on the way down, and the fluctuations in his appetite. He almost enjoyed the dreamless sleeps he would fall into for hours when his body finally decided to sleep. And he explained away his weight loss on his constant visits to the gym.

All in all, everything seemed to be slowly working itself out, at least in Greg's mind.

That is, until Leon Kuzmin walked into the crime lab.

It was December 3rd. Catherine was in her office calling the ski lodge to confirm her reservation. She had promised Lindsey that it would be a vacation they would never forget and she planned on following through on that. She had bailed on her daughter too many times before, and Lindsey had been looking forward to this for five months. Catherine wasn't about to let the girl down. Not this time.

He knocked on her door and she put a hand over the mouth piece of the receiver. "Reception is down the hall," she said to him.

But he shook his head as he entered the office. "I know, they told me to come here."

Catherine hung up the phone and eyed this man warily. He had a head of blonde hair and shocking blue eyes, as well as a five o'clock shadow. There were bags under his eyes and Catherine noticed he was a nail-biter by the shape his hands were in. "Who are you?" she asked.

"My name is Leon Kuzmin," he answered simply. "My sister told me that I should speak with you."

"Your sister…?" Catherine wasn't following.

Hesitantly, Leon nodded. "Yes," he said. "Vera. Vera Volkova."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees and Catherine's demeanor changed from confused to cautious. "I was told Vera's family was dead…"

Leon laughed grimly and nodded. "Yes, well, most of them are. There are days in which I wish I was too. I can only thank God my parents didn't live long enough to see what their daughter has become. But I can curse him too for letting her do the things she has done to me."

"I don't understand…" Catherine said slowly, fearing the worst for this man. "She didn't attack you did she? She didn't…" Catherine didn't finish her sentence, but she had a feeling that incest wasn't a far leap for Vera or her late husband.

"She attacked my heart," Leon replied monotonously.

"You're going to have to elaborate," Catherine said. "Are you adding to her charges? I can call a detective—"

"No," Leon interrupted harshly. "I want to speak with you."

Catherine leaned back in her chair. "OK, then, what do you have to say?"

Leon stared down at his knees. "Do you have… children, Ms. Willows?"

Slowly, Catherine nodded. "Is this about—"

"I heard on the news," Leon interrupted tonelessly, "that you recovered several bodies at Vera and Sasha's house. I also heard that a few of them were still unidentified. I… I saw a photograph of one of the unidentified victims. A little girl with light brown hair… she painted her fingernails different colors…"

A lump rose in Catherine's throat. "Mr. Kuzmin, do you mean to tell me you recognize that little girl?"

Leon's eyes welled with tears. "She… She was my baby girl… My Anna…"

Catherine gasped. "Oh my God…"

"On the day she disappeared…" Leon continued, "my ex-wife and I received a… a video tape in the mail. My baby was crying. She was dressed up like a porcelain doll. She was clutching at a teddy bear, Ms. Willows. They had her stand in front of a concrete wall. There were… other dolls. Sitting on chairs in a row, also against the wall. They began at the far end and shot every porcelain face. Anna was wailing so loudly… They shot the bear clear out of her hands, Ms. Willows, before they shot my daughter in the head."

"When was this?" Catherine asked breathlessly.

"Two years ago," Leon replied dully. "Allison—my ex—she knew it was Vera, and deep inside me so did I. Vera used to give Anna a doll every year on her birthday. Just like the ones that were shot in the video. I couldn't admit it. But… there wasn't enough evidence. Neither Vera nor her husband appeared on the tape. And they never found the basement the film was shot in. My sister and her husband walked. But she told me after the trial. She bragged about it to my face. She said, 'Oh what a pretty corpse my little niece was. Oh what a perfect porcelain doll…'" By now, Leon was crying full force as he closed his eyes. "Allison couldn't take it. She blamed me… I blamed my sister… It ruined out marriage. Vera Volkova ruined my life, Ms. Willows. And now… thanks to you, she is finally in prison."

"Not just me," Catherine said softly. "Everyone wanted to put her away. The whole graveyard shift helped in their own way, Lana Hancock from days did her part, Detective Brass, Detective Vega, hell the LVPD in general. It's not just me alone."

"I went to see her yesterday," Leon said as if Catherine hadn't spoken. "I thought that maybe I could save her child. Nurture it against its nasty nature, you understand… But the thought of raising her disgusting progeny just churned my stomach. I couldn't look at her. I told her that any child of her's and Sasha's I wouldn't be able to stomach adopting. Never. And then, imagine my surprise when she told me that the child isn't Sasha's. I asked her what she meant and she just told me to talk to you."

Catherine didn't know what to say. Slowly, she nodded. "It's… true that the child in Vera's womb is not Sasha Volkov's… But that's all I can tell you, I'm afraid."

Leon nodded slowly. "I still don't know if I'm qualified to raise the child of the woman who murdered my own."

Catherine reached across the table and took Leon's hand in hers in an attempt to comfort him. "Mr. Kuzmin… Don't think of it as a burden, think of it as a second chance to raise a child all your own. The baby shares a quarter of your genes. It's not as much as a daughter would have, but it's still your flesh and blood."

"So you think I should do it?" Leon asked. "Vera has already named me as the child's guardian. She just needs me to sign the papers. And you think I should do it?"

"Mr. Kuzmin," Catherine began, seeing his true intentions at last. "You didn't come here to ask about the child's father. You came here hoping I could convince you to sign those papers."

Leon bit his lip before nodding. "I'm sorry, Ms. Willows," he said. "But I've heard much about you. You even have my sister's respect. That is a hard thing to gain."

Catherine didn't feel like it was an honor to have Vera Volkova's respect. "Well… I'm sure she won't respect me for long. I'm pushing the state to set her execution date for as soon as she gives birth."

"Yes," Leon said, as if Catherine just reminded him of something. "She said as much—Ms. Willows, she told me that she wants to speak with you."

"I'll bet she does," Catherine muttered. "But I don't want to speak with her anymore."

"She said she would only present me with the papers if you talked to her," Leon said. "Please, Ms. Willows. What could talking hurt?"

So it was out of guilt that Catherine found herself face to face with Vera Volkova the following day. She looked at Catherine smugly.

"What do you want?" she demanded simply. She didn't want to spend any more time in this murderess's presence than she needed to.

"I want immunity," Vera hissed into the phone. "Your precious little Greg came to me and told me that he knows. I swear, Catherine, I didn't tell him anything. And then my lawyer tells me my date is set for next August. I have one more Christmas left on this earth and I don't even get to spend it with my baby. I thought we had a deal. I keep quiet and you keep the date perpetually over the horizon."

"Our deal was that Greg doesn't find out," Catherine returned. "Now I'm sorry, Vera, but I have to be honest here. I um… oh what is the word I'm looking for, you know it I'm sure… dislike? No… hate? No, that's not it either. Ah. I know. I abhor you. You are the lowest scum I have ever had the pleasure to put away. There is no way I want to see your filthy feet continue to walk on this green earth."

"I have papers," Vera began, "that I would like my brother to sign. I've been pushing him to sign them. I expect it is in your best interest to allow him to do so."

"And why is that?" Catherine asked. "Because I'm finding it really hard to care right now."

"If Leon doesn't agree to take the child," Vera explained, "then I will be asking the father to take responsibility."

Catherine narrowed her eyes at Vera. "You can't force Greg to do anything."

"No," Vera acknowledged. "But like Leon, he is torn. I've seen it. He came to see me. He doesn't know if he wants the child or not. And I, like my husband, am a master at manipulation. I can convince him that he wants the child. I can make him feel so guilty for abandoning it that he will force himself to sign those papers."

Catherine sighed and rubbed her eyes. "Vera, I'm tired of playing these games with you. As far as I'm concerned, you can do whatever you want."

"I'll put him through hell," Vera said quickly. "Just like I did last time." She saw Catherine's hesitation and capitalized on it. "Come on, Catherine. Where are your maternal instincts? Don't you want to protect him? Protect him from scary old me? If you want, I can convince both Leon and Greg that they each want the child. What a fight that will be."

"No, Vera," Catherine said flatly, rising to her feet. "I think I'm finally done making deals with you."

Vera was instantly on her feet, and for the first time Catherine saw a glimmer of fear in the woman's eyes. It filled Catherine with an insane sense of complacency. "What are you going to do?"

Catherine smirked at her. "I'm going to see if there's anything I can do to push up your execution date to sometime earlier than August."

She hung up the phone. She watch Vera scream mutely in the phone as she folded her arms and pointed to her ear mockingly. With an exaggeratedly apologetic shrug, she turned on her heal and walked down the hall. She couldn't help but grin as she heard Vera's muffled screams until the guards restrained her. Very soon, Vera Volkova would be out of all of their lives forever. And she no longer held any power over Catherine. She felt liberated. And she owed it to her friend to liberate him as well.

Having a sense of déjà vu, Catherine pulled out her phone on the way out of the prison and dialed.

It rang five times before she finally got an answer. "Sanders." He sounded breathless, and Catherine momentarily wondered why.

"Greg, you don't go in until ten tonight, right?" Catherine asked, looking at her watch.

"Uh… yeah," he said. "Why, do you need me earlier? Because I don't—"

"Oh, no," Catherine said quickly. "I was just wondering if you could spare some time before hand. Can I maybe buy you dinner at around eight o'clock before work?"

Catherine could hear the wry smile in her old friend's voice. "Aw, Cath, gee, I'd love to, but I've gotta be honest, see there's this dame I'm seeing and I don't think she'd like it if I went out with another beautiful woman."

Sara's voice could be heard giggling in the background as something hit the phone. "Oh, so I'm a dame now am I? What are you, a gangster from the 30s?"

Catherine was glad to hear them finally sounding like their old selves again. She climbed into the car and backed out of the lot. "Oh Greg, you can dream on— it's not a date, it's a guilt dinner. I need to tell you something. About… Vera Volkova. And that bun in her oven."

Greg was quiet for a minute. "OK, but I'll only go if Sara can come with me, to make sure I'm being faithful. With a classy gal like you around, Catherine, I mean, I may find it hard to restrain myself."

There was more laughing on the other end on Sara's part. She said something to Greg that Catherine couldn't make out, probably another joke.

"Uh… Greg?" Catherine said. "Are you sure you want Sara to—"

"What?" Greg interrupted. "Aw, but that's no fun, Catherine! If you're going to be all secretive about it, that'll just make her more suspicious."

"I don't get it," Catherine said. "Why are you talking in code?"

"Oh. Yeah. Of course, I should have known you wouldn't want to do anything with me like socialize. Classified case. Work related. I should have known, Catherine, you saucy minx."

"Did you just call me a minx?" Catherine blinked.

"I'll apologize for that later," Greg said quickly.

"You really don't want her to know, do you?" Catherine asked. "Haven't you told her yet? Does she even know that Vera—"

"Catherine, you offend me. Never say that word in my presence again."

"Technically," Catherine said, coming to a stop light, "I'm not in your presence. But that's a no then."

"Of course it's a no," Greg said. "There's no way I'm coming in early tonight. If you want to have dinner, that's fine, if you want to talk about that case, that's fine. Did you say eight?"

"I did say eight," Catherine confirmed.

"The diner?" Greg guessed.

"La Rosa?" Catherine suggested.

"Ooh, you're sure this isn't a date?" Greg joked.

Catherine rolled her eyes. "Believe me, you'll want a good meal."

"Sara likes their bruschette," Greg said. "I'll bring some home for her."

"Don't forget, it's a coat and tie kind of place," Catherine reminded him. "Show up without them and they'll make you wear one of theirs."

Greg shivered. "Gross, do you know how often they wash those?"

"Exactly, so be prepared."

"Will do."

They each hung up and returned to their previous activities. Catherine returned to driving, and Greg… Greg returned to Sara.

He climbed back on the bed where Sara sat waiting for him with a grin, her hands grasping the sheets up around her like a little girl playing hide and seek.

"You threw a pillow at me, Miss Sidle," he whispered playfully.

Sara just shrugged. "You called me a dame," she returned. "You deserved to have something thrown at you. Just be glad it was only a pillow."

Greg looked down at his watch. "Well, I have to meet Catherine in three hours. Hm. Now, what can keep us occupied for three whole hours?" He smirked as he slid under the sheets and started kissing her neck.

Sara ignored him and stared up at the ceiling innocently. "We could watch Gone With The Wind," she suggested.

He pulled away from her neck to give her a dubious look. "Please, Sara, one can only take so much Clarke Gable." He went back to kissing her neck.

"But you always did have a thing for Vivien Leigh," Sara pointed out.

He stopped again and looked at her with a lopsided grin. "Well, what can I say, I have a soft spot for spunky, independent women."

Sara laughed and kissed him quickly on the lips before shaking her head. "What is it about you that just makes me…"

"Wild?" Greg supplied. "Incredibly turned on?"

"Hungry," Sara said huskily.

Greg played dumb. "Aw, but Sara, we just had lunch a few hours ago—" He broke off into laughter as she pushed him down onto the mattress and climbed on top of him. "Hey, a guy could get used to this."

She laughed lightly as she caressed his cheek and nodded. "Oh yes, I'm sure you could," she said, before leaning down and kissing him slowly and tenderly. He wrapped his arms around her and she dissolved into him. There was no safer place for her than Greg's embrace.

He met her at La Rosa three hours later wearing a coat and tie, as asked for, paired with jeans and a t-shirt. Catherine had to crack a smile at the way he parodied the formal requirements of the restaurant. To be honest, she almost thought they wouldn't let him in, even though he was wearing a dinner jacket and tie like they demanded he do. Catherine, in her dark green evening gown, more than made up for Greg's almost-formality. She met him at the door and she felt the real reason Greg got away with his outfit was because the overly stimulated waiter seemed to be staring at her cleavage too much to even notice Greg.

"It couldn't have killed you to put on a nice shirt," Catherine muttered as they slipped into their seats.

Greg shrugged. "I only wear suits for judges," Greg said. "And priests."

"I didn't know you were religious, Greg," Catherine said, intrigued.

"More out of habit than desire," Greg replied. "I stopped going to church as soon as I was away from my folks. But you still have to respect a man of God. And, of course, the big guy himself." His demeanor changed as he leaned across the table. "So tell me, Catherine, what scam is Vera trying to pull now?"

Catherine ignored him and signaled the waiter, ordering a bottle of wine before smiling broadly at Greg. "We can talk about that when the wine comes."

"That bad, huh?" Greg said, his face falling.

Catherine gave him a sympathetic smile. "No, actually," she said. "I have some good news, too."

"I'd love to hear it." His voice was confident, but his hands were shaking.

"Greg, are you OK?" Catherine asked concernedly. His pale face looked worn and tired, the only thing standing out was the faded brown scar traversing his cheek. "You look a little sick."

But Greg shook his head and frowned at her in confusion. "That's impossible, I feel on top of my game."

"Come to think of it…" Catherine said slowly. "You've been looking bad for a couple of weeks now…"

"I've just been having trouble sleeping," Greg explained away quickly. "It's not a big deal."

Catherine accepted this explanation, mainly because she didn't want to consider the consequences if it was anything more than that. "Vera's brother, Leon Kuzmin came to see me the other day. She's pressing him to be the legal guardian of the child."

"This is good news?" Greg asked, sincerely unsure.

"Well… it could be," Catherine replied. "It means that the kid will have a loving family. That you wouldn't need to… worry about it. Of course, if you want the baby, then you have precedence. In my opinion, either way, you're clear. The kid's going to have a good home, Greg."

Greg stared at the table for a long time. "Is it wrong, Catherine… that I'm not sure I want that baby to have a good home at all?"

Catherine reached across the table to take Greg's hand. "Greg… It's OK. Women find themselves in your position all the time. It's hard to raise and love a child when every time you look at the kid's face you see the face of your rapist. She's going to try and convince you to take the baby, but remember Greg that it's your decision. You don't have to take the child if you don't want to. Leon Kuzmin is glad to do it."

"Is he a good guy?" Greg asked. "I mean, with that family—"

"He had a daughter," Catherine said. "Anna. She was the youngest corpse we found buried in the Volkov's backyard. Vera killed her own niece. Leon hates her as much as you do. It's one thing you have common."

The wine arrived and Greg sighed, leaning back in his chair as the waiter poured. They ordered their meals and the waiter disappeared again.

"I don't know what I'm going to do about this, Catherine," Greg said, shaking his head as he sipped is wine. "I mean, sometimes… I want the baby, I want to be a part of its life, and other times I just wish…" He couldn't say it.

"It's OK, Greg," Catherine said. "It doesn't make you a bad person."

"I can't… I can't stop thinking about the baby as an it. I mean… even when it's born I'll still think of it… as an it. That's not a good father. I just… I can't deal with that, Catherine, I can't. I don't care what she says to me, her brother can have the kid for all I care."

"Good," Catherine said. "That's good, Greg, that you've made a decision."

Greg nodded slowly as he stared into his wine glass. "Yeah…" he said. "Maybe it is."