Author's Note: As usual, for those who don't know, I update daily, or every other day. I only post stories which are pre-written or I'm way ahead in writing them. You oughtta enjoy the next chapter. It's a lot of fun.

"You rang, Doctor?" Sara said, entering the morgue. Dr. Robbins looked up at her and smiled.

"Your bones," he said. "They're old."

"I thought they were a child's," Sara said.

"Oh, they are," Dr. Robbins replied. "But they're old."

Sara raised an eyebrow. "How old?"

"About one hundred and fifty years old," Robbins replied. "It's why you only found part of it. The smaller bones like the fingers and feet decomposed, leaving us with half a ribcage, a pelvis, and a skull. You're lucky most of the skull is intact. Someone took very good care of these remains, but the soil it was in decomposed it rapidly. I've seen million-year-old fossils in better shape." He closed a file and handed it to her. "This is out of our jurisdiction. Even if it was a crime, it was committed before forensic laws even existed. It's not one we're supposed to solve."

"So what do we do with the bones?" Sara asked. "Hand them over to anthropologists?"

"She's no Lucy," Dr. Robbins said, looking at the bones. "But she's not young enough for our services to do any good."

"Do you think she was killed?" Sara asked.

"Hard to say," said Dr. Robbins. "Hard to tell if she was even a she. Infant bones are not very sexually dimorphic. That comes with puberty. The pelvis expands in a female's case, the forehead extends in males… And with an incomplete skeleton like this… I'm sorry, Sara, I just can't say. She might have been killed, or she could have died from natural causes."

Sara sighed. "Thanks. I guess I'll call anthropology. See if they want anything to do with her."

Sara took the file from Robbins and headed out. She met Catherine in the hall. "Dr. Robbins says our baby is over one hundred and fifty years old."

Catherine frowned at her. "Hodges found traces of pollen in the soil."

"A formal burial," Sara said. "What do you make of it?"

"I don't know," Catherine said. "I need more time."

"Well we don't have it," Sara said. "Due to the age of the body, we can't investigate any further. Our job ends here."

Catherine nodded. "OK then," she said. She looked down at her watch. "Shift is almost over."

"Unfortunately," Sara said. "Looks like I'll just be heading home and crashing on the couch again."

"You're not going to Greg's party?" Catherine asked.

"At three o'clock in the afternoon?" Sara said, laughing. "That's quality sleep time."

"He'll be disappointed," Catherine said.

"Yeah," said Sara. "That he couldn't get me leied."

"In more ways than one," Catherine said. She looked at her watch. "Listen, I'm gonna go home and check on Lindsey, maybe make her breakfast before she goes to school. Cover for me?"

"No problem," Sara said. "Slow night anyway."

"I used to think there was no such thing," Catherine sighed.

"Let Grissom know before you go," Sara called after Catherine as she headed off. Sara watched her with a smile, glad that she was acting normally once again. Whatever had come over her back at the crime scene seemed to be gone now.

Turning around, she ran headlong into Warrick and dropped her files. They both bent down to pick up them up.

"Sorry about that," she said. "Didn't see you."

"It's all good," Warrick said. "Shouldn't have been walking so fast. Hey, are you going to that party Greg's throwing?"

"Probably not," Sara replied. "I don't really do theme parties."

Warrick laughed as he got to his feet. "Aw, he'll be disappointed. I heard he was trying to impress you."

"Yeah, I'm sure," Sara said, sounding exhausted. "I'd rather just relax, you know."

"Cut him a break," Warrick said with a smile as he pushed Sara's files back into her hands. "You can relax at the party. Have you seen Catherine?"

"She was on her way out," Sara told him. "I think she was going to give Grissom a head's up."

"Great," Warrick said with a grin as he moved passed her. "Because I wanted to talk to her."

"Oh?" Sara said, sounding curious. She watched Warrick walk off down the hall and didn't give her an answer. Smiling to herself, she headed down the hall.

The lights went off so suddenly, Sara tripped over her own feet and cursed loudly.

"Sara? That you?"

Sara sighed and saw the shadow of Nick standing stock still a few feet away from her. "Yeah, Nick," she said. He moved closer to her and extended a hand in her general direction. She grabbed it and he hoisted her up. "What's with the lights?"

"Dunno…" said Nick. "But if I know Grissom—" He was interrupted by a loud stream of obscenities. Nick laughed. "He was doing something important with the electricity."

"It seems the whole lab went down," Sara said.

All of a sudden there was a bang coming from one of the interview rooms. Electricity was restored almost immediately afterwards and Sara and Nick found themselves jogging towards the source of the noise like half the rest of the lab. Before anyone could go in, however, Brass came stumbling out the door and forced everyone back. There was blood on his shirt.

"I don't need all of you!" he insisted, sounding annoyed. "Just some of you." He spotted Sara and Nick and beckoned them over. "Sara," he said. "This was your case, your suspect, you come here. Where's Catherine?"

"She went home," Sara told him. "Why, what's going on?"

He looked up at Nick. "You can take it then." He ushered both of them inside. "Our perp shot himself in the blackout."

"With whose gun?" Sara asked, staring at the dead body through the one-way window.

"Mine," Brass said. "I know what you need to do; I was in here with him. Sofia was here too, but she went to get some coffee and…" He held his hands out to them, palms up. "Go ahead. Test for GSR. I didn't shoot him, but I know you guys can't take my word for it."

Nick smiled at his cooperation. "Thanks, man," he said, hoisting his kit up on the table.

But Sara's eyes were glued on the dead body and she put her hand up to the glass. Something about his death struck her as intensely eerie. And it hurt her, personally, and she couldn't tell why. "Brass, what did he say before he killed himself?"

Brass let out a tired sigh. "Utter disbelief. He couldn't believe he'd killed his own wife, or that she'd killed their only child. He repeated two names, neither one the name of his wife. Lizbeth and Annabelle. Kept blubbering about going back to County Kerry and starting all over again. Did he strike you as Irish?"

"Sure had the temper of an Irish guy I once dated," Sara said. "Otherwise… his features don't say that at all. He looks almost like he's of mixed Arab decent, tanned skin, long nose… Meanwhile, the wife had a Greek nose and sharp features, not to mention that long black hair."

"Haven't you ever heard of the Black Irish?" Nick said.

"She wasn't Black Irish," Sara said, resolutely.

"Well apparently they were," said Brass. "Unless you know of a County Kerry in the United States."

Sara shrugged. "What else did he say?"

"Well he was freaking out, actually," said Brass. "Getting really agitated, sweat dripping down his face… No surprise that when the power went out he reached for my gun and bang! Down goes Dad."

"How'd he get your gun?" Sara asked.

"Not quite sure, really," said Brass, frowning as he tried to think about it. "I had it safe in my holster, and I don't remember him coming near me or grabbing it. I would have felt it… maybe it was on the table, but I would never leave my gun out like that… All I know is what you guys know. I mean, there are windows in here, but they might as well have been walls. It was pitch black. Couldn't see a thing."

At that moment, Grissom entered the room, followed by Warrick. "What's going on?" he asked.

"Suicide," Brass explained, gesturing at the late Allan Walter. "Blew his brains out."

"I can see that," said Grissom, taking in the gruesome scene. "Why? How?"

"I was just telling Sara and Nick that," said Brass, sounding slightly annoyed by the questions.

"Right," said Grissom. "Of course." He looked at his two CSIs. "You'll give me a report later, I'm guessing."

Sara protested. "Grissom, it's like an hour away from end of shift—"

"You're not leaving until this is done," he said. Both she and Nick groaned. "Besides, Sara, I thought you loved working doubles."

"Sometimes I love sleeping more," Sara mumbled.

Grissom looked around. "Where's Catherine?"

"What?" said Warrick. "I was just about to ask you the same thing."

"Didn't she come to see you?" Sara inquired. Grissom shook his head. "She said she was going to leave a little early, since it was a slow night… I assumed she would run it by you first."

"Well she didn't," said Grissom, sounding irked. "And now I have to call her and ask why. She's involved in this too."

"Let me do it," Warrick offered. "I've been meaning to talk to her about something anyway."

As Warrick left, Greg poked his head in the door. "I heard I was missing all the fun," he said.

Grissom glared at him. "There's just as much fun out there Greg. There are enough people in here. Shoo."

"But—"

"I'd do it if I were you," Sara interrupted. "Unless you want to get stuck pulling a double shift."

A stupid grin formed on Greg's face as he looked at Grissom. "You look swell today, boss, by the way, I'll be on my way now, don't forget— three o'clock!" And with a thumbs-up, Greg was gone again. Within twenty seconds he was back again, the door cracked open just enough to see his face.

"Greg, what did I say?" Grissom said.

"I know," said Greg. "But I've been hanging out and Ecklie's here. I told him you didn't want anymore people in the room so—"

"Let him in, Greg," Grissom said.

Obviously offended, Greg pushed the door open to reveal Ecklie standing right behind him before he stalked off.

"Brass!" Ecklie exclaimed, seeing him covered in blood. "Two disturbances with a suspect in one night, what's wrong with you?"

"This is more than a disturbance," Brass said, gesturing at Alan Walter.

Ecklie noted it. "So was the last one. A woman was killed. Right in front of you."

"I see a lot of death, Conrad," Brass said, icily.

"More like it follows you," Ecklie replied. He sighed, and just seemed to notice that everyone else was there. "Well? What are you guys looking at, do your job for God's sake!" And with that, he was gone.

"Well," said Sara. "That was utterly pointless."

"That was Conrad Ecklie," Grissom replied.

Nick held his camera up to Brass. "Say cheese," he said. "You've just become a crime scene."

Brass gave him a sarcastic smile before the flash went.

Sara, meanwhile, approached the glass again and stared in at the corpse. There was a young woman in a black dress, stroking the man's hair and dabbing at the wound at the back of his head. She also dabbed at the blood dripping out of his mouth, where the gun had most likely been. Her hair, or what Sara could see of it, was red and hidden under an old-fashioned black funeral hat with a veil. Sara walked into the room.

"Excuse me, ma'am, but you can't be in here."

The woman looked up at her, gaunt and ashen, but her bright green eyes sparkled out at Sara from behind the veil. When she looked at her, Sara determined she couldn't have been older than sixteen, not a woman at all but a girl, and yet her demeanor seemed so much more mature. "Haven't you ever wondered," the girl asked gleefully, "what things may have come to pass if no one ever knew?"

"Ma'am," Sara said sharply. "I need you to step away from the body."

She looked towards it, the excitement fleeing from her eyes and the color draining from them as well to a steely gray. "There is nothing here anymore. There is nothing inside. Nothing inside us. So we become the outside. It is our hell, you see. Our purpose. You and me."

"Brass?" Sara called, her eyes still on the strange girl. "Did you have someone else in here?"

No one answered her call and Sara glanced at the window, seeing only her own reflection. But she saw none of the girl, and that's what bothered her most. She turned instantly again.

There she was, dabbing at the man's wounds, humming a soft lullaby Sara had never heard before. And yet, there she wasn't.

"Who are you?" Sara demanded, half-nervous, half-frustrated. "You shouldn't be here."

"You're right about one thing," the girl replied, grinning a twisted smirk. "None of us should be here."

"Brass!" Sara called again loudly, but still no one replied. She slowly backed away towards the door and fiddled with the knob before hastily making her way out and slamming it shut, breathing hard. Her sudden entrance made Nick and Brass look at her, surprised. Sara looked around.

"Where's Grissom?" she asked.

"He left," Nick replied. "What's wrong?"

Soon enough, Sara's heart stopped pounding so hard as she realized how ridiculous she was being. "Nothing," she said. "Except that girl. She shouldn't be in there, Brass."

Both Nick and Brass stared at her in curious confusion. "What girl?" Brass asked.

Sara pointed her thumb over her shoulder. "The girl, the girl, the woman in black. In there."

Nick walked over to the window and looked inside. "Sara, there's no one there but the body. Are you feeling OK?"

"What?!" Sara exclaimed, and quickly joined Nick at the window. There he was, completely undisturbed, lying back in his chair. Blood still poured from his mouth and his eyes were glassy and lifeless. But he was the only one there.

Sara shuttered involuntarily and rubbed her arms. "OK, so I'm seeing things," she said. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Nick reassured her, though he sound somewhat worried himself. "You just need some rest, alright?"

Slowly, Sara nodded, her expression blank. "Yeah…" she muttered. "I'm gonna…" She seemed to change her mind as she shook her head. She turned to Nick and smiled. "Let me process Brass," she said. "You do the body."

Nick laughed lightly at her and squeezed her shoulder. "Sure thing," he said.

The phone rang six times before Warrick got a hold of Catherine's answering machine. He looked at his phone and frowned at it. "Cath, it's Warrick. Where'd you go? Anyways, Grissom wants you back at the lab, he's also kind of pissed that you didn't let him know where you were going. Call me back."

And she did return the call, after a few minutes. "Warrick," she said, her voice soft and sweet. "Why don't you come over? I made dinner."

"Uh…" said Warrick, very confused. "Why don't you come over here?" he said. "Nick made coffee."

"Ugh, I don't want to go over there," Catherine whined. "It stinks of death."

"It's a crime lab," Warrick said with a shrug. "Of course it does. But you didn't seem to mind so much before. Come on, or else Nick is stuck working your case and I don't think he and Greg are finished with the Hawaiian Shirt John Doe."

Catherine sighed. "Fine, I'll come in," she said, sounding more like an annoyed child than Catherine.

Warrick looked at his phone again to make sure he was talking to the right person. "Cath, are you feeling alright? You sound… exhausted?" It was a guess. Really, she sounded drunk. He hoped to God she wasn't.

"I'm fine, Warrick," she said. "Just miss you is all."

"Miss me?" Warrick shook his head to clear it. "Whatever, just get over here. See you soon."

"Bye." And she hung up.

Warrick shook his whole body, trying to get the weird vibes he'd been receiving from Catherine over the phone off of him. He turned on his heal and headed for the locker room, hoping he would be able to avoid the double shifts Grissom was dishing out.

"Warrick!"

No such luck. Warrick stopped in his tracks and turned to see Ecklie. "Yes, sir?"

"Need you on the John Doe," he said. "Catherine's not here, and Nick's helping Sara with Brass's suicide case."

"Sir, Catherine's on her way—"

"She's not here now when we need her, so get on the case," Ecklie said. "Now."

Warrick's shoulders slumped forward. He felt like arguing more, but knew from experience that it would just get him into further trouble. When he turned around, he found himself facing Greg, who was reading off a file and was already in mid-sentence.

"… shot wound to the chest pointblank, ninety degree angle, and gun's with Jacqui. Welcome to the case. Take this, and go ask Jacqui if she's got a hit of any of those prints yet. I'm gonna see who owned the gun."

Sighing, Warrick took the folder. "Why are you telling me what to do?"

Greg blinked innocently up at him. "Hey," he said, "I'm sorry, I was just giving you a direction to go in. Of course, you don't have to follow it, but if we're going to be working together we should at least listen to each other's suggestions—"

"OK," Warrick said. "OK, I get it. I'm on my way."

"Relax," Greg said. "I want to get off as bad as you. Shouldn't take too long, I think we'll all be done here by noon."

"Give you time enough to setup, eh?" Warrick said. "Where's your party at again?"

Greg's eyes lit up. "You're coming?"

"Wouldn't miss it, man," Warrick said with a smile.

Greg returned the courtesy. "Thanks," he said, but the smile faded and he shrugged, casually. "Ya know, it could just be you and me kicking back with a couple of beers. You're the first person to RSVP."

"Aw, they'll show up," Warrick said. "They just don't want to let you know."

"You know what it's for, right?" Greg said.

Warrick nodded. "One of the only reasons I'm showing up."

"You mean you wouldn't have otherwise?" Greg looked crestfallen.

"I never said that," Warrick said. "You'd just have to give me a new reason."

Greg closed his eyes and smiled, nodding. "Right," he said. "Hawaiian shirts aren't necessarily everybody's thing. D'you think Nick's coming? He hasn't mentioned it."

"I'll drag him kicking and screaming," Warrick replied. "Besides, when he figures out what you're doing, I'm sure he'll jump on the bandwagon."

"So people would come for Sara, but not for me," Greg said, in mock offense. "I see how it is around here."

"Get to work, kid," Warrick said. "The sooner we move, the sooner we're out of here."