A/N – Okay, this chapter is fun. It's short, though. Sorry about that. I'm really getting into writing the case files and such. Anyway, please read and review. Let me know what you think.

Disclaimer – Eeney, meeney, miney, moe – Catch a disclaimer by the toe.

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Grissom woke around nine o'clock that night when he smelled the horrific breath and felt the tongue running up his face. Moaning, he reached over and smacked the dog with a pillow, then looked at the clock and realized it was almost time to get up, anyway. Feeling rested and rather energetic, he grabbed a quick shower, smiling at the memory of their last shower together, and made his way back to the bedroom and dressed.

Picking up the phone, he dialed her number.

"Hello, Gilbert," she said in way of greeting. He could practically hear her smile on the other end of the line.

"Sara," he said on a breath, and in a stronger voice continued, "Thanks for leaving the message about arriving safe."

Sitting back down on the bed, he tied his shoes, holding his cell to his ear as he listened to her speak. The animation in her voice had him grinning. "I went to the wharf today and wandered the shops. I'd forgotten how I love to just walk down there." Her voice changed to wistful as she added, "Since I got here, I've been such a jumbled mass of confusion. I immediately dove head first into the shallow end, and felt broken and unsure of myself." Her voice became stronger when she said, "I think I'm starting to truly understand why I'm here."

"I'm glad," he softly said. He wanted was her to be happy, but he realized he wanted it, as well. The only way to do that was to be honest with her. They'd learned over time to talk… her more than him, but even back then she'd been able to pull words from him. The talking had stopped, and they'd both withdrawn.

Taking what he thought was a positive step forward, he said, "I miss you already. I'm happy you are dealing with your demons, and I applaud the guts it takes, but I really miss you, honey."

He heard her sigh, right before she whispered, "I miss you, too."

The couple sat there in blissful silence for a minute, before Sara pressed him with, "Tell me about what you're working on."

For several minutes, Grissom told her about the woman in the alley, and the man that died in the ambulance. He could just about see the frown of concentration on her face. Those who didn't know her would think she was in a perpetually bad mood. However, the team knew that if Sara's forehead was scrunched up, she was concentrating.

Grissom chuckled when he said, "You're not going to solve the case from there, and with no results from DNA or Trace, dear."

Once the laughter died down, Sara asked, "Did you thank Greg for me?" and Grissom gruffly replied, his voice extremely quiet, "Yes, I did." From his tone, Sara surmised he'd been uncomfortable at best, and possibly embarrassed. She knew better than to ask if his ears had turned red.

The fact that he'd hugged her so publicly and gladly accepted the quick kiss in the airport had been about the most public affection as he'd ever shown… well, except when she'd kissed him before she left the first time.

For awhile longer, they spoke. She told him of more places she'd visited since her return to San Francisco. He told her about Hank deciding he was an alarm clock, and waking him up five minutes before the buzzer with a big slurping tongue to the face. The chuckling died down, though, when they said their goodbyes. As he hung up, though, Grissom was still smiling.

He stopped off to pick up assignment slips, and found nothing waiting. It looked like swing had closed off any open cases, so he made his way to the DNA lab. Seeing Wendy through the window, he stepped in and asked, "How did yesterday go?"

When she grinned, her cheeks flushed, and she said, "It was great. It felt… freeing… to be out of here for a few hours." Lowering her voice, she added, "Sometimes the walls feel like they're closing in on me." Looking around, she murmured, "I live in a world that's getting smaller every day." He remembered hearing similar words from Greg once, when he'd been the DNA tech.

"Oh!" she suddenly jumped from the stool she sat on. "I have your results right here, but there's something strange." At Grissom's inquiring look, she continued, "I processed DNA from the hairs found at your scene, and at Nick and Warrick's scene. It's the same DNA. Plus, I analyzed the DNA from the bloody handkerchief, and it came up as Brickman's. I didn't find anyone else's on it. Finally, I ran the DNA of the victims, and came up with quite a few common epithelial. It looks like the female vic at your crime scene is related to the vic at Nick and Warrick's crime scene. I'd say siblings."

As Grissom read through the reports, he absently started to walk out of the DNA lab. He barely got a step before he turned, and said, "If you're serious about moving out of the lab, talk to Greg. He can give you a good perspective on what to expect." With that, Grissom headed towards the break room.

Once everyone was gathered, waiting for assignments or instructions, Grissom let them know what Wendy had found. In conclusion, he said, "So, it looks like we're working the same case." Looking around the room, he figured the best way to break up the assignments. "Nick, I want you to head back to the house for another look around. Greg, go with him – give him a fresh set of eyes. It hasn't been released yet. Warrick, Catherine – go back to the evidence. I'm going to the morgue to see what Al's come up with." With that, everyone headed out.

In the morgue, Robbins first pulled out the body of Allison Trowler. Starting at the top, he started the description, "Female victim. Twenty years of age. Naturally blond hair. She appears healthy, except that she's dead. On further examination, I found a deep puncture wound at the base of the skull, which broke the third vertebrae in the neck. She died almost instantly from the break, but still lost a good deal of blood. The TOD would be between eleven and when they were found at eleven forty five."

"The puncture wound looks circular," Grissom murmured, peering at the wound, his face just inches away. Putting on his glasses, he took a closer look. "We're looking for something close to an ice pick." Standing back, Grissom watched Robbins put the body back in the drawer, and pull out the next one.

"She didn't have any defense wounds," Robbins said, and Grissom commented to himself, "She was taken by surprise."

"This one's a little different," Robbins said. He pulled out the next body. "James Brickman, 23 years old, and again blond hair. The reason I say it's different is that there's a great deal of bruising all over the body, and there are multiple puncture wounds on the chest, consistent with the weapon that killed the girl. If you look at his hands, there are defensive wounds." Looking up, he added, "I took scraping from the fingernails. DNA should be processing them as we speak. He died from internal injuries." Standing back from the body, Robbins looked Grissom in the eye when he said, "Whoever did this viciously beat and stabbed him to death."

Putting the young man back into the drawer, Robbins opened up a third drawer. Standing over the body, he described her. "Meagan Spears, light brown hair. She saw this coming. There's no bruising, so whatever the perp did, he did it quickly, and in the end punctured her jugular. I've got a similar wound as found on the other two. Deep puncture – circular – thin." Looking at Grissom, Robbins stretched his back and commented, "Or as you said – something akin to an ice pick. Her TOD was between ten and eleven o'clock last night."

"Thanks, Al," Grissom said, gathering up the reports.

As he made his way towards his office, he was stopped by Hodges. "Hey, boss, I've got Warrick's results right here," he said. "Then why aren't you giving them to Warrick?" Grissom asked. Smiling now, Hodges replied, "I happened to see you, and I know your cases are linked, so… the fibers you found on the female victim at the house are multi-colored and wool. I was able to research the pattern and found that they match a fabric used to make heavy wool shirts. It's one of the more expensive brands, as well." With a flourish, Hodges handed over the report, and smirked, "Let me know if I can help with anything else," before heading back into the Trace lab.

Nick and Greg returned shortly, toting a plastic mold of a shoe impression. "We got a print," Nick said. Smiling, he added, "Greg found it next to a window on the side of the house. It looks like a size twelve male shoe. I called Doc Robbins and he said it's too big to be from our victim."

"Nick, I want you to start putting together an evidence board in the layout room. Put up pictures… reports… everything," Grissom said. Looking at Greg, he added, "I want you to start writing up a timeline. Also, let Catherine and Warrick know that if they want a lunch break, they need to take it now. We've got someone who viciously killed three people running around Vegas. We won't be breaking before we find the suspect or suspects."

"We'll meet in the layout room in an hour," Grissom said over his shoulder, making his way to his office. Opening his email, he smiled as he found a message, and laughed over the fact that his techno-geek Sara finally got her computer set up.

To: GGrissom

From: SGrissom

Got a call from Ecklie. He finally read the signature on my leave of absence form. Watch out.

Love, Sara

Grissom didn't know whether to laugh or groan. It was going to be a very long night.

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A/N – Did you know that if you drink enough Mountain Dew, your spirit leaves your body and you float blissfully above yourself, while you physically become a marionette? I'm pulling strings and watching my arms and fingers type away. Let your spirit take control – hit the review button. If you can't, then drink more Mountain Dew.