A/N: This is the chapter that didn't want to end! It's not exactly super-sized, but it's definitely the dinner portion. Enjoy, and thanks for reading and reviewing!

Maisy13: Seriously. Scene two – SMILE.

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration is taken from episodes 303, "Let the Seller Beware" and 315, "Lady Heather's Box." Some dialogue is also borrowed from episode 315.

Consequences

"Did you know?"

"Nah," Warrick said as he and Nick walked into the locker room. "She never said a word to me."

"Me, either." Nick shook his head. "I can't believe she kept something like that from us!"

"Maybe she thought … I don't know what she thought," Warrick acknowledged, taking off his tie. As much as he appreciated Grissom taking them all out for dinner, he did not appreciate having to stay in his court suit longer than necessary.

"Well, she deserves a little happiness," Nick said, hanging his jacket in his locker. "If she can find it with Hank, more power to her."

"You know, he did tell me to say hi to her for him at a crime scene once," Warrick said slowly. "I didn't think anything of it at the time, but …"

Nick laughed. "And you call yourself an investigator."

"Crime scene investigator," Warrick clarified. "I get paid to notice evidence of crimes, not evidence of my friends' personal lives."

"Fair enough," Nick said with a grin. "We're going to have to give her a hard time about this, you know. She can't keep a secret like this from us and expect us to just to leave it alone."

"Who's keeping secrets?" Greg asked as he walked into the locker room.

Nick and Warrick exchanged a glance.

"Sara," Nick said. "She's been dating an EMT, but she didn't tell any of us."

Greg's eyes grew round. "How did you find out?"

"It came out in court," Nick said. "Tom Haviland's defense did a little digging into everyone's lives. They used Sara's relationship with Hank to say that he was repositioning evidence to where she wanted it."

Greg frowned. "That's just stupid."

"Yeah, we all think so," Warrick agreed.

"But, how did they find out about Sara and Hank?" Greg asked. "I mean, no one …"

He trailed off as Nick and Warrick looked at him in shock.

"You knew?" they exclaimed in unison.

Greg's face slowly turned red. "Well, I may have heard …"

"Greg, we want the truth," Nick said. "How did you find out about Sara and Hank, and why on earth didn't you tell us?"

Greg sighed. "I have a friend who's an EMT. He told me that Hank had mentioned going out with Sara. I confronted her about it, and she admitted that they're dating. She also swore me to secrecy, so if you could avoid telling her that I said anything to you, I'd appreciate it." He grinned. "I'm not entirely sure she was kidding when she said she'd kill me and hide the body where no one would ever find it."

"It doesn't matter much anymore," Warrick said while Nick laughed at Sara's threats. He repeated what Sara had said to him only a few hours earlier, "Everyone's secrets are on the table now."

"True," Nick laughed. "You won't believe what else that defense attorney said –"

"She asked me about my gambling problem," Warrick said loudly, cutting him off.

Nick looked at Warrick in surprise, but quickly went along with him. "It was mean," he said. "There's nothing illegal about gambling in Las Vegas."

"It just makes me look bad," Warrick said.

"What did she find out about you, Nick?" Greg asked.

"That I'm careless," Nick said. "I forgot to put case identifiers on my photos."

Greg shook his head just as he was paged back to the DNA lab. He sighed.

"You know, after working for something like a million hours straight, you'd think I'd be allowed a little break."

"No rest for the weary," Nick grinned.

"Well, I'll be in my lab. See you guys later."

Greg left, and Nick turned to Warrick.

"Why did you cut me off?"

"You were going to tell him what she said about Sara and Grissom, weren't you?"

Nick nodded. "So?"

"So, I don't think you should. I don't think it's fair to Sara to have that out in the open."

"It sort of is out in the open, Warrick. Marjorie Wescott made sure of that."

Warrick shook his head. "That doesn't mean we have to repeat it. If Greg finds out because Sara tells him, fine. But, I don't want him to find out because we were just being mean to her in hopes of getting a laugh from Greg."

Nick nodded, thoroughly abashed. "You're right. I didn't think of it that way." He paused. "Wait. Warrick … Grissom does know what went down in court, doesn't he?"

Warrick shrugged. "How could he? He wasn't there during Sara's testimony."

"So … wait. Does he have any idea that she …?"

"I doubt it," Warrick said. "You know Grissom. He's completely oblivious to the human element. And, there's no way that Sara would make a non-subtle move on him."

Nick exhaled slowly. "Oh, man."

"Look, if you want my opinion, I'd say it's all ancient history. She's with Hank now, and she seems happy. There is no reason for Griss to know any of it."

"You're right," Nick agreed. "It doesn't need to go any further than it already has."

Warrick nodded. "Sara's never been one to tell our secrets unless Grissom told her to," he said. "We owe her the same courtesy."

Sara had never been so glad to have a night off in her life. She went straight home after having dinner with the team, and took a long, relaxing shower. She didn't bother to dry her hair afterward; she pulled it back into a damp ponytail and threw on her most comfortable yoga pants and tank top. She had just turned on the television when someone knocked on her door.

Frowning slightly, she got up from the couch, and crossed to open the door. Hank stood there, smiling at her, holding a single rose.

"Hi," he said softly.

"Hi," she replied a bit blankly. She opened the door wider. "Come in."

He smiled wider and entered her apartment, offering her the rose. "I heard that you had a rough day."

Sara's eyes widened as she accepted the flower. "Who told you that?"

"Everyone's been talking about how the defense in that Tom Haviland case was planning to tear CSI apart. How did it go?"

Sara sighed as she put the rose in a vase, setting it down next to her gerber daisy plant. "It was just this side of horrific."

Hank came up behind her, gently massaging her shoulders. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Sara bit her lip. There was no way she was going to tell him what that woman had said about her and Grissom. "Well, we've been outed," she said at last.

"What?"

"The defense suggested that my relationship with you changed how I processed the scene."

"That doesn't make sense."

"I know," Sara said, her head rolling forward as he massaged her neck. "I tried to play it off. I guess it worked – the movie star will have to stand trial."

"Good." Hank's hands moved lower again, to shoulder blades. "Did they name names?"

"You mean your name? Yes."

Hank's fingers stilled for a moment, then resumed their massage. "So, everyone knows?"

"Yeah." She smiled. "I haven't had a chance to talk to the team yet, but I'm pretty sure they're going to be upset that I didn't tell them sooner."

Hank smiled. "I sort of liked the mystery."

"Me, too," Sara sighed. "You're really good at this, you know. You could be a masseuse."

"I think I'm happy as an EMT," he smiled. "You know, this would be more effective if you were lying down."

Sara smiled and turned around, grabbing his hand. "Well, I know a good place to do that."

Hank grinned as he followed her to the bedroom.

"Are you working next Tuesday?" Hank asked, toying with a lock of Sara's hair that had fallen on his bare shoulder.

"No," she said. "You?"

"Nope. I was thinking … there's this vineyard that I'd like to take you to. Do you like wine?"

"Who doesn't like wine?"

He smiled. "Would you like to go on Tuesday?"

Sara smiled back at him. "I'd love to."

Sara had not been to a vineyard in years. A native of California, she was no stranger to vineyards and wine tastings. Hank was impressed by her knowledge.

"You can tell the difference between these?" he asked, experimentally tasting two different red wines.

"You can't?" she asked in surprise. "This one has an oaky taste to it – it shows how it was matured."

The tour guide smiled at Sara. "That's right." He looked at Hank. "I think this young lady could teach you a thing or two about wine."

Hank smiled. "She's a crime scene investigator. She gets paid to notice subtle differences."

"True enough," Sara laughed. "Here, try this one. Can you taste how much lighter it is?"

"I guess …" Hank said uncertainly.

Sara laughed again. "I have a lot to teach you."

She had just reached for another glass when her pager started to vibrate. She looked down at it and groaned.

"Work?" Hank asked.

"I can't have a single day off with this man," she sighed. "Yeah, I have to go in. We've got multiple homicides."

Hank nodded. "Okay. I'll drive you back home."

She sighed. "I'm sorry, Hank. You had this lovely day planned …"

"It's all right," he said, squeezing her hand. "We've had a lovely day, don't you think?"

Sara nodded, coaxing forth a smile. "I'm sorry Grissom is always ruining things for us."

Hank shook his head. "I'm glad that you're such a good CSI that he depends on you so much."

She smiled a genuine smile. "That's a far nicer way to look at it."

"Come on," Hank said, pulling her to her feet. "It'll be over an hour before we get back to Vegas."

"Oh, well. It's my day off. He'll just have to wait."

As it turned out, Grissom was not pleased to be kept waiting. He was almost harsh as he assigned Sara to work solo on a murder at a high school. Sara felt very stung and severely punished as she left.

"Gil, what's going on?" Catherine asked when she finally had time to speak with him.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Why did you send Sara out alone?"

"I need everyone else here," Grissom replied.

Catherine shook her head in disbelief. "That's not true. We could run this with only three CSIs. Any one of us could have gone with Sara. Are you punishing her for something?"

"No."

Catherine looked at him closely. "You're not … What has she done?"

"Nothing." He paused. "She needs to be here when she's paged."

"Grissom, it's her day off!" Catherine exclaimed. "You were the one who was worried that she was working too hard! You were the one who made me go talk to her about it. And, now, when she's not hanging around the lab on her day off, you get upset. What is the matter with you?"

"Nothing," Grissom said stiffly. "I just … I need my team to be there when I need them."

"You – you're mad about Hank, aren't you?" Catherine asked with dawning understanding.

"Why would I be mad about Hank?"

"You don't want her involved with another man," Catherine said, still with an air of revelation.

"You're being ridiculous," Grissom said, avoiding her eyes.

"No, I'm being observant," Catherine shot back. She lowered her voice. "Listen, Gil, you can't have it both ways. You've always said that she didn't mean anything to you – that she wasn't anything more than a colleague or a friend. If that's how it is, that's great. More than great. But, you can't expect her to remain celibate. If you don't want to have a romantic relationship with her, that's fine, but you can't stop her from having one with someone else."

Grissom lowered his eyes for a moment, then looked back up at her. "You're right. I can't control Sara's private life."

"And …?"

He sighed. "What more do you want from me, Catherine?"

"Be nice to Sara," she said. "We've been over this before. You know enough not to make her so upset that she'll quit, don't you?"

"Yes," he sighed.

"You promise to play nice?"

He couldn't help but smile at her word choice. "I promise."

Catherine's lecture got through to Grissom; he was far kinder, more his old self with Sara from that point on. Sara was relieved that he wasn't purposely trying to make her life difficult. She chalked his attitude up to having a stressful day.

Going to work became fun again, with the Tom Haviland case behind them and Grissom's friendly attitude back. Sara looked forward to seeing her friends each day.

"Sara! We need to talk."

Sara paused on her way out of the locker room. "What's up, guys?"

"Is anyone in the locker room?" Nick asked.

"No, it was just me. Why?"

"Come on," Warrick said, taking her arm to lead her back into the locker room.

"Seriously, what's going on?" Sara asked as Warrick steered to her the empty locker room.

"Sara, how long have you been dating Hank?" Nick asked, folding his arms over his chest.

"Why do you want to know?" she asked warily.

"We're worried about you," Warrick said. "We can't believe you didn't tell us what was going on between you two!"

Sara laughed. "You call yourselves investigators. You should have guessed it."

"I don't think you left us quite enough evidence," Nick smiled. "Listen, we're just trying to make sure that you're happy."

Sara's face relaxed into a smile. "Yes, I'm happy."

"He's good to you?" Warrick asked.

"Very."

"All the time? He doesn't do anything that upsets you?" Nick asked.

"Oh, come on, now, guys. Everyone gets upset sometimes."

"Fair enough. But, for the most part …"

"Yes," Sara said firmly. "I'm very happy with Hank, and he is perfectly wonderful to me. Are you happy?"

Nick smiled. "We're very happy for you, darlin'. As long as you're happy, we're happy."

"We just wanted to make sure that everything is good with you and Hank," Warrick added. "Because, if he ever does anything to hurt you …"

"He'll have us to answer to," Nick finished.

Sara stared at them in shock. In all her life, she had never had anyone who wanted to protect her the way these two men did. Nick had been right – she had always been lacking a "big brother" in her life. As much as she had always teased that they tried to fill that role, she was realizing for the first time that they truly did fill that role– and that they always would. Tears filled her eyes.

"Aw, Sara, don't cry," Nick said, seeing what was coming.

"I'm sorry," Sara said, wiping at her eyes. "You were right, Nicky – I've always needed a big brother."

Nick smiled and folded her into a hug. "You've got one, darlin'."

"Two," Warrick said, taking his turn to hug her.

She laughed, and did her best to stop crying. "You guys are great."

"So are you," Warrick smiled.

"There you are!"

They all looked up to see Grissom standing in the doorway. "Warrick, Sara, you're coming with me. We have a foam party to attend."

Warrick and Sara looked at each other with raised eyebrows.

"Who else is going to be there?" Warrick asked.

"Brass and a dead guy. Come on, let's go."

"Okay, what was a non-diabetic doing with insulin in his system?" Warrick asked, taking a bite of his sandwich.

"That's what we need to find out," Grissom replied.

"Someone stabbed him with a syringe full of insulin?" Sara asked, dipping a carrot stick in ranch dressing.

"Not exactly," Grissom said, taking a sip of his coffee. "Our killer used a high pressure injector."

"Oh, that's just a whole new level of weird," Warrick said. "Who would even think to kill a guy like that?"

"That's what we need to find out," Grissom replied.

The ringing of a cell phone interrupted their conversation. They all instinctively reached for their phones, but Grissom waved them off.

"Mine," he said, flipping the phone open. "Grissom." He was silent for a moment. "Wait – Cath, slow down. What?" His eyes grew round as he listened. "What?" he practically yelled, jumping to his feet. "Is she okay?"

"Gotta be something with Linds," Warrick said, looking at Sara fearfully.

Sara nodded, fear creeping into her veins. She didn't know what Catherine would do if something happened to her little girl.

"Okay. … Okay. … Thank God. … Right. … Okay, I'll send someone over there as soon as I can." He paused. "No, Cath, I can't. You know that. … It'll be fine. We'll talk soon. … Right. Bye."

He snapped his phone shut. Warrick and Sara were both staring at him, their lunches forgotten on the table. Grissom took a deep breath.

"There's been an accident."

"Oh, God," Warrick moaned, running his hands over his face. "Lindsey?"

"She's okay," Grissom said, obviously relieved. "The car she was riding in went off the road and into a storm drain."

"Oh, man," Warrick said. "With the amount of rain we've had, it must have been like a river."

"Exactly. She called Catherine, who, thank God, got her out. But, obviously, she's pretty shaken up."

"Wait," Sara said. "Lindsey wasn't driving that car. Who was?"

"She was with Eddie for the evening," Grissom replied.

"So, where is he? How did she get there, all alone?

Grissom looked at her for a moment. "That's what you're going to find out."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. Nick's going to take the case that he and Catherine were working, and Warrick will stay on this case with me."

"You're not taking Lindsey's case?" Sara asked in surprise.

Grissom shook his head. "Catherine, Lindsey and I go back too many years. I'd be too emotionally involved. I can't do it. Catherine knows that, and she understands it. You take it."

"Are you sure that you want me to do this?" Sara asked evenly.

Grissom nodded, looking straight into her wide eyes. "If it were my little girl, I'd want you investigating it."

In the days that followed, Sara found herself thinking more than once that it would have been easier to stay on Grissom's foam party case. Catherine was very reluctant to let her do her job, suggesting more than once that she wasn't doing it right.

The case became even more complex when Eddie's body was found near the site of the crash. Catherine went from terrified mother to terrified mother and grieving ex-wife. Sara could barely understand the complexity of the emotions that Catherine was experiencing, but she wished that she would experience them at home, far away from the crime lab. It was truly making her life difficult.

"You're going to be jealous," Nick laughed as he came into the break room, where Sara was going over her notes from an interview with Lindsey.

"Dare I ask why?" she smiled.

"It turns out that the dominatrix is involved in our investigation," he said.

Sara's eyebrows shot up. Since she had left the case, Nick and Catherine's case had merged with Warrick and Grissom's, meaning that everyone but her was working toward the same goal.

"Dominatrix?"

"Lady Heather," Nick clarified. "Remember, she was involved in a case Grissom, Catherine and I worked last year?"

"Oh, yeah," Sara said. She smiled. "Warrick and I always did think that was a little unfair that we didn't get to take a walk on the wild side with you guys."

"Jealous?" Nick teased. "You're missing out again."

"Are you going to the house?"

He made a face. "I've been there. No need to see it again."

"Who's going?"

"Brass and Grissom."

"Sounds like a party," Sara said, turning back to her notes.

"I can't believe it! You were so upset the last time you didn't get to go to Lady Heather's!"

Sara sighed. "I'd be jealous if I wasn't so busy. In a few weeks, I'll probably wish that I could have gone to check it out."

"Well, if you're very good, maybe Grissom will tell you all about it."

Sara laughed. "Yeah, that'll happen."

Grissom couldn't help feeling a bit excited as he and Brass waited in Lady Heather's foyer for her to make an appearance. The detective gave him an appraising look.

"She's a suspect in a murder investigation," he said.

"I'm aware of that, Jim."

"Just making sure."

Despite his words, Grissom felt the breath leave his body when Lady Heather descended the staircase in her home. She was just as beautiful, just as entrancing, as the last time he had seen her. She always maintained an emotionless exterior that rivaled even Grissom's, but she did seem pleased to see him again, too.

She explained the work that their two victims had done for her, and Brass ushered Grissom back out the door. He shook his head as they drove away.

"She's a suspect in a murder investigation," he said again. "Long, brown hair – just like the one you found in the first vic's hotel room – and access to the victims … Gil, you've got to forget about anything other than that."

"I know, Jim."

Brass glanced at him. "Yeah, you keep saying that, but I'm having a hard time believing it."

Grissom allowed himself a smile. "I know what I'm doing."

"Usually, that's a comforting thought, but this time …"

"I would never do anything to jeopardize the lab."

"That I'm sure of," Brass said. "Just make sure that you don't forget."

Within days, Grissom found himself back at Lady Heather's house to ask her a few more questions. This time, he went alone.

She led him though the house as they talked, going up several flights of stairs. He repeated information she had given him before about dominance and submissiveness, commenting that, while in her dominion, the submissive partner held all the power. He or she was the one who could, at any time, say "stop."

"Very good, Mr. Grissom," she said, impressed that he had remembered the fact about her business.

"I'm just repeating what I heard," he said.

"You're a good listener."

He shrugged. "Part of the job."

She stepped closer to him. "So, this is work?"

"Yes," he said slowly, "but I value your insight."

Lady Heather allowed herself a small smile. "I'm flattered. But, you already seem to know the answers to your questions." She stepped even closer. "You keep me in proximity when I walk away, and when I'm close, you watch my lips." She finally stopped mere inches from him, and looked directly into his eyes, again displaying her uncanny ability to read him. "Are you losing your hearing?"

He looked down at her, his lips curving slightly upward. "I'm losing my balance."

"Your sense of self?" she whispered.

"No," he said firmly, "I know who I am."

"Do you?" she asked almost playfully, yet seductively.

"Yes," he said, smiling slightly again, "I do."

He reached up to touch her cheek, letting his hand slide down against her hair as her eyes closed. He moved his hand, and her eyes opened again, staring into his as he cupped her face with both hands.

"You can always say 'stop,'" he whispered.

She looked up at him with lust-filled eyes. "So can you," she replied.

He shook his head. "Not if I don't want to say it."

She smiled slightly. "Good. I don't want to hear it."

He leaned down and captured her lips with his, feeling all his emotion rush to the surface, thinking that he had waited an entire year to feel her lips against his. His hands slid down from her face to her shoulders, then down further, finally coming to rest on her waist. She reached up slowly, unzipping his jacket and letting her hands slide under it.

Grissom's lips finally left hers and trailed down her chin to her neck. She leaned her head to the side and let the fingers of one hand tangle in his hair. He pulled away and looked deeply into her eyes.

"Are you saying 'stop?'" she asked.

"No," he whispered, his voice low and husky.

She smiled and took his hand. "Come."

She led him down the hall into her bedroom, closing the door behind them. He pulled his jacket off, and tossed it onto a chair near the door.

"Shall we play out your fantasy?" she whispered.

He smiled. "I've never been one for theatrics in this part of life."

"Come, now," she said, pressing herself tightly against him. "You must have some fantasy that I could help you indulge."

He shook his head. "No."

She smiled, her fingers quickly undoing of the buttons on his shirt. "Well, then, shall I tell you my fantasy?"

"If you'd like."

She smiled, and leaned up to whisper in his ear. "Having you in my bed has been my fantasy since the moment we first met."

Grissom's eyes widened. She smiled.

"Surprised?"

"I've never thought of myself as anyone's fantasy," he admitted.

"You should," she said. "I know you can't have only been mine."

He smiled and leaned down to kiss her again. "Shall we make your fantasy come true?"

She smiled. "Yes."

Grissom had never had a one-night stand. He hated the awkwardness of waking up the next morning in someone else's bed. It was bad enough when that bed belonged to a girlfriend; he couldn't handle the idea of that of a stranger. So, when he woke up the next morning in Lady Heather's bed, he immediately felt ill at ease.

She was already awake, walking back into the bedroom wearing a bathrobe, with her hair wrapped in a towel. She smiled brightly when she saw him.

"Good morning," she said.

"Good morning," he replied.

She sat down next to him on the bed. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes," he said. "You?"

"Very well," she said, running her fingers through his hair. "If you'd like to shower, the bathroom is just next door."

"Yes, thank you," he said.

He felt strangely exposed as he climbed out of bed. Even after all that had happened the night before, he hated the idea of her watching him walk unclothed across the room. She seemed to sense his discomfort and turned away.

"We'll have tea downstairs when you're ready," she said.

He smiled. "That would be lovely."

Their tea began well enough. It wasn't until Grissom offered Lady Heather sugar for her tea that things became tense.

"I'm diabetic," she said as a way to refuse the sugar.

Grissom stopped cold. "Type 1?" he asked.

"Mm-hm," she said with a small nod.

"Injection?" Grissom asked.

"Used to mean injections," she said. "I changed to a pressure syringe."

Grissom's mind went a million miles a minute. He felt as though the ground were falling out from under his feet. "Recently?" he asked.

"A few weeks ago," she said. "Oh, it's a fascinating instrument; would you like to see it?"

Grissom looked at her for a moment, feeling that never before in his life had he been so wrong about a person. "Yes, I would," he said.

She nodded.

"But, I'm afraid I'll need a warrant."

It was Lady Heather's turn to be shocked as she watched Grissom call Brass to request a warrant for her medical supplies. She looked up at him in disbelief.

"I think I just heard you say 'stop,'" she said quietly.

Grissom looked down at her. "Yes," he said, "you did."

"Where are you headed?" Catherine asked as Brass hurried through the halls.

"Lady Heather's."

Catherine couldn't help smiling. "Business or pleasure?"

Brass rolled his eyes. "Grissom just called and said that he needed a warrant for her medical supplies. Apparently, the lady is a diabetic."

"Is Grissom going with you?"

Brass raised an eyebrow. "Grissom is already there."

Catherine's jaw dropped. "He – what?"

Brass shrugged. "I'm just telling you what I know."

"Why is he there?"

Brass raised his eyebrows. "I don't have any definite answers to that question."

Catherine looked at her watch. "It's … Jim, how did he know that she's diabetic?"

"I've given you everything I've got," Brass said. "But, it would appear that Lady Heather is now a very likely suspect in our murder investigation."

Catherine couldn't help laughing. "Oh, man. Poor Grissom. That is a hell of a walk of shame."

In the end, Lady Heather wasn't the one responsible for the two men's deaths. One of her employees had used her insulin and injector to kill them.

Even so, Grissom knew that his infatuation with Lady Heather had ended. She may have been innocent, but the ease with which he had been willing to suspect her of this terrible crime was very telling – to both of them. The whole experience left him … sad.

He walked through the lab, thinking that he may as well get some case reviews done, when he noticed Sara sitting in the break room alone. She was staring down at her hands in her lap, and looked miserable. He poked his head in the door.

"Are you okay?"

She shrugged. "Catherine's not very pleased with me."

Grissom walked all the way into the room and sat down across from her. He looked at her, silently asking her to continue.

"I had to call it," she said. "I can't get the truth out of either of my suspects, and I don't have a murder weapon to pull it all together. Each is as likely to be guilty as the other." She sighed and ran her hands over her face. "I wish I had something better."

Grissom looked at her for a moment. "Sara, did you do your best?"

She looked up at him. "Of course."

"Is there anything more you could have done?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Then, that's it," he said simply. "Sometimes, there is no answer. That's why we have cold cases."

"I guess."

"Listen," Grissom said, "you have nothing to be upset about. You did your best. Catherine will forgive you. She knows that there's nothing more you could have done, even if she's not ready to admit it yet."

"I hope you're right."

"I've known her for a lot of years. I'm right." He paused. "Sara, I stand by what I said before. If it were my little girl, I'd want you to be the one to handle the case."

She finally smiled. "Thanks, Grissom. That means a lot."

He smiled back. "I trust you."