A/N: I'm sorry for the long delay. While I have a chunk of this story pre-written, I haven't had much time to myself to do anything except sleep. So, again, I apologize. See the first chapter for the disclaimer. The snippets that are Mia's ringtones are "Breathing" by Lifehouse, "Answer the Phone" by Sugar Ray, "Good Enough" by Evanescense, and "Citizen/Soldier" by 3 Doors Down. I realize Mia comes off as a little harsh in this chapter, but bear in mind that she and Warrick haven't always had the smoothest of relationships, so maybe it'll make sense. I hope. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, and please review. :)

Chapter 1: The Morning After

I'm finding my way back to sanity again…

Mia grunted softly, pushing her phone off the nightstand. She briefly heard it clatter down behind. She had just gotten done dropping Greg off at the airport, so what could he be calling her for now?

Answer, the phone. I know that you're home…

She shook her head before dropping it back down onto the pillow. He left her a voicemail, and it was one that she'd worry about later. Because he was probably just bored and looking for amusement.

Crave my heart and its bleeding in your hands…

She furrowed her eyebrows. When Catherine called her, she knew she had better respond or be prepared to suffer later. After the night she just had, though, the last thing she wanted to do was deal with another, undoubtedly bloody, crime scene. So, again, she ignored the phone call, figuring she'd say she was in the shower or something when approached about it later.

Answer, the phone. I know that you're home…

Another voicemail to sort through later. Mia groaned, curling tighter into a ball. Greg and Catherine calling her relatively back to back normally would've been a red flag to her that something was going on, but she was too tired to give a damn.

I'm finding my way back to sanity again…

Greg again. Mia finally sat up in bed, looking through the darkness of her room for where her phone had landed. Three phone calls in a row was not something she was going to ignore. Even though part of her still thought it was just that Greg was bored.

Answer, the phone. I know that you're home…

A third voicemail, and Mia felt dread creeping up inside and threatening to drown her. If her team was trying so hard to get in touch with her, then something big must be going on. So where exactly did her phone fall down to?

Citizen/Soldier, holding the light for the ones that we guide from the dark of despair…

Mia finally located her phone, and answered with, "Hello?"

"Mia," Grissom replied, his voice unnaturally sad.

She bit back her frown as her fears reached their high point. "What happened?"

Mia walked into the lab, finding Archie, Mandy, and Bobby Dawson in the break room. She walked in, turning to them and hugging each of them. Nick walked by the room, covered in blood, and Mia covered her mouth to keep from throwing up. Not at the sight of the blood, but at the knowledge of whose blood it was.

She watched Greg walk up to Nick and speak to him briefly, and then the two men parted ways. She left the break room to walk over to her obviously distraught colleague. He turned to her, and she immediately wrapped her arms tightly around him. He sighed, resting his head against her shoulder.

"I'm…" he said softly.

"Yeah, me too," she replied.

"I have to go to the coroner to get his clothes."

She nodded, letting go of his chest and taking hold of his hand. He realized she was going to walk down with him, and he nodded, beginning the longest walk to the coroner that either of them had ever encountered.

Mia and Greg silently walked into autopsy, finding Dave standing over Warrick's body in a mourning fashion. She could see that day shift was handling the autopsy, and she knew why Dave was standing over Warrick. "Uh, I'm not…" he said.

"Relax, Super Dave," she said softly. "I just… I need to…" He nodded his understanding.

"Take your time, Amelia." She nodded, moving to stand over Warrick's body as Dave and Greg moved deeper into autopsy, trying to give the two of them the moment alone.

She timidly put her hand out before withdrawing it quickly. After snapping on a pair of gloves, she reached out again, stroking Warrick's hair.

"I would've touched you barehanded," she said softly. "But I don't want them to miss one thing that would stop them from finding the fucker who did this to you." She sighed deeply, continuing to stroke his hair. "I know we've had our disagreements, our arguments, our rough moments, and our fights. But, I want you to know that I didn't mean it. Well, I mean, I did, but now it all seems so stupid. I'm sorry, Warrick. I'm really sorry. All those times I wished you were dead… I almost wish I could take those back.

"I always did appreciate you," she continued while Dave pretended not to pay attention in the corner and Greg gathered Warrick's clothes. "I didn't like you much, and I'll be the first to admit that this sounds fucked up. I mean, why am I talking to you? Why the fuck should I care? I hated you when you were alive, and now I'm down here, talking to you like we were best friends.

"But, life's funny like that, Warrick. I feel extremely guilty. Know why? Well, maybe you do now that you're dead, but I'm gonna tell you anyway. It's because even though I never told you this, I always had this grudging respect for you. You were the one person I could always count on readily for a wake up call that was straightforward. You didn't bullshit me, bitch me out, or try going about it the nice way. You just played it like it was, whether I liked it or not.

"And while I always fucking hated it, and, by extension, I hated you for it, I sure as hell am gonna miss it. But, you know, all those times that I said I hated you, wanted to kill you… I didn't always mean it, and I also want you to know how much I respected you. You were a damn good person, a damn good friend to Nick, Catherine, Greg, and Grissom, and a damn good CSI. All of which makes you pretty good in my book, even though I always didn't like you for being so straight with me.

"Anyway," she continued after a sigh. She glanced over to Dave, who was typing on the computer. She saw the tears coming down his cheeks, and she sighed again. "I guess I'm the only one not feeling this. Although, I suppose I really am. I did come down here, after all, to talk to your corpse. And, I guess I'm not down here to make my peace. You can't really make peace with the dead. Believe me, I've tried before. It doesn't work. I'm not even here to make myself feel less guilty. That's not going to work either. So, I guess you're wondering why I did come down here then, huh?

"I guess it's because I feel like I need to say this. Believe it or not, you were actually someone I trusted and cared about a lot. You were a good friend to my friends, and that carries a lot of weight with me. Plus, you were my colleague. I trusted you with my life every night out on the streets.

"I feel guilty that I never got the chance to make amends with you. That I never gave you a chance. That we started on the wrong foot, and never came close to finding the right one. I think with a few more years, we may have been able to be friends. But, life has a funny way of working out, and I guess we'll never get the chance to test my theory.

"So," she said after another sigh. "I guess my final words right now are these. I'm sorry that we never made amends, but I hope you continue to do up there what you've done every day down here- look after Greg, Grissom, Nick, and Catherine. They need you. I'll try my best from here, but they'll need you too. I almost wish things had been different for us, but then again, we wouldn't have been us. I'll see you in the future, kid. Take care of everyone. I'll miss you." She stroked his hair one last time before looking up at Dave and Greg again as she snapped off her gloves.

"He's all yours," she said softly, wiping away the tears that had come to her eyes with the ending of her speech. Dave nodded, wiping away his tears and walking over to her. The two embraced in a hug, and she squeezed him gently. She kissed him on the cheek before nodding at Greg and walking out of autopsy.

Greg walked timidly over to Warrick, stopping at the table. He stood there, staring down at Warrick much in the same way as he had stood at his first autopsy. But this time, he was sickened.

This was his friend. His colleague. His mentor.

Greg shook his head, scrubbing away the few fallen tears with his sleeve. He swallowed hard, squeezed Warrick's unmoving shoulder, and moved out of autopsy. A short distance down the hallway, he found Mia standing there, waiting for him. Tears adorning both of their faces, they said nothing, simply walking back to the lab with Warrick's clothes.