Nick did a quick walk through of the house, seeing nothing obviously out of place. The apartment was small and simple. Sara was tidy. Everything had a place, and everyone on the team knew she wouldn't leave the house if it wasn't neat and organised.

He started at the bedroom where he had found her. Clothes in the hamper, and a few items on a chair near the bed. Her closet was meticulous and organised, no surprises hiding there. Grissom's closet was much more chaotic, it still held a few changes of clothes, a number of boxes, but nothing was orderly. Their bed was still made, and he wondered briefly why she had been on top of it rather than under the blankets. She had clearly been exhausted when he last saw her. Making his way to the nightstand, containing nothing more than a lamp, a phone charger, a book on quantum something or other, and a small ceramic bee on top. He hesitated before opening the drawers. This had the potential to get awkward quickly, but he was just going to do a quick check. The top drawer held the expected tissues, hair brush, hand cream, and such. Nick felt relief that there was nothing of a more personal nature, but when he opened the second drawer he found a small collection of prescription bottles. A quick glance told him that they were some sort of sleep medication and what he believed was an anti anxiety med, but he took a photo of each label and pocketed them.

The third drawer contained a small collection of photographs of Sara and Grissom together, along with a collection of small boxes, the top one holding her wedding and engagement rings. He paused to admire the simplicity and how well the rings suited Sara. They weren't flashy or overdone like so many were, and he thought it a shame she wasn't able to wear them for work. He left the other boxes alone, and noticed several notebooks underneath them. He considered briefly if he should look through them and wisely decided against it. They knew Sara had taken up journaling after being forced to see a PEAP counselor, and he had no interest in knowing what she wrote.

The tiny bathroom held no surprises. Two toothbrushes in the holder, a small collection of make up in a drawer. Towels hung neatly on a rail beside the shower. A small medicine cabinet held Advil, Tylenol, an ancient bottle of cough syrup and some antacids along with a small first aid kit.

He continued his search from the door, noticing her shoes from the previous shift were haphazardly left at the side of the door, unlike the neat row of shoes he saw to the right. Grissom's butterfly collection hung on the wall, taking up most of the wall space in the small hallway. The kitchen looked like it had been unused for a while - no dishes out, no signs of cooking. He popped open the fridge and frowned at the few half empty take out containers and a carton of questionable milk. It looked like Sara had reverted to her dining habits from years ago. He made his way to the small dining table, mail piled up beside the single placemat there. Nothing jumped out as significant as he quickly flicked through it. He noticed a stack of case files on the coffee table by the couch, but none of them looked like anything of importance- he'd have to ask DB what she was working on. He took a few moments to pull the files together and placed them at the door so they could go back to the lab until Sara recovered.

Next he stopped at her desk, hoping to find something with Grissom's phone number. He pushed aside the stack of forensic and entomological journals, and flipped through the assortment of papers on the desk. She had been bringing a lot of work home with her from the looks of things. He opened the drawers and saw her neat writing on dozens of file folders. Thank God she was organised, he thought to himself. He pulled the health insurance file from right at the front, knowing the hospital would likely need it. He ignored the various folders of tax, finances, education, miscellaneous other paperwork and one labelled Honey Bee, assuming it had to do with Grissom's colony collapse research, but noticing that the ones marked "Legal" and "Health Directives" were slightly askew he pulled them out. He opened the second file on the desk, and pulled out several envelopes. Grabbing the ones labelled "medical power of attorney" and "advanced health directive" he exhaled and hoped they wouldn't be necessary. The first file contained an envelope from a legal firm he didn't recognise so he set it aside. The last was marked "Last Will and testament" so he shoved it back in the folder without opening it. He didn't even want to contemplate needing that one. He went back to the third envelope, curious about what it contained, and gently pulled the papers out. In an instant, his heart clenched as his brain struggled to process what he was looking at. He flipped through the many pages, noticing the little colourful flags indicating where Sara was to sign. It didn't make sense. He felt anger and sadness course through him as he went back to the cover letter, hoping there would be some explanation for what he knew wasn't true. But there it was in black and white - Grissom had sent Sara the legal documents necessary to file for divorce.

Nick quickly went back to the medical power of attorney and advanced health directive paperwork, as he tried to process what was happening. Grissom had asked Sara for a divorce. Sara had been throwing herself into work for the past few months and they had all noticed she was no longer her vibrant self - but she had insisted she was fine and just a bit tired, or missing seeing her husband.

He was both relieved and disappointed to see that Grissom remained Sara's power of attorney were she unfit to make medical decisions for herself. He hoped it wouldn't be necessary. The second envelope left him feeling deflated though, when he saw that she had signed a clear legal statement, dated a few weeks ago, declining all medical intervention or treatment should she become sick. In addition to a DNR, she had also signed a myriad of documents indicating she did not wish for life support, blood transfusions, surgery or any other procedures which would or could sustain or prolong her life. Each page he turned made him feel sick as he realised she had clearly lost any interest in surviving even the simplest medical event. He rested his head against his hands as he whispered to himself.

"Oh Sara. I wish you'd told us what was going on."