AN: Time for Grissom to show up! Hope you like…

Thanks to WalkerTRngr for the beta help!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything relating to CSI

Chapter 3

"Gil Grissom?"

He looks up at the unfamiliar voice, finding two men in dark suits and sunglasses on the dock. They definitely don't look like harbor patrol – he supposes they could be from Fish and Wildlife, but his gut says FBI or CIA, maybe Homeland Security. What they might want with him, he can't imagine.

"Who's asking?"

"Special Agent Donovan and Suarez, FBI," the taller of the men introduces them, holding out his badge.

He moves as close as he can without getting off the boat and squints at it, ascertaining that it looks real enough.

"What's this about?" he asks.

"Are you Gil Grissom?" the shorter man, Suarez, retorts.

He supposes there's no point in denying it. "Yes."

"Would you mind accompanying us to our office downtown?"

He frowns. "I would, actually. Especially if you won't tell me what this is about."

The two agents exchange a look. "We're investigating the disappearance – probable kidnapping – of a one-year-old boy."

"OK." He's trying to keep his annoyance in check, he really is, but they're starting to get on his nerves. He has better things to do. "And what exactly does this have to do with me?"

Agent Suarez holds out a glossy photograph and he takes it, looking at a little boy with brown hair, smiling at whoever's behind the camera. "Boy's name is Matthew Sidle."

His eyes snap back to the agents at the name. "Sidle?"

"That's right," Donovan confirms. "Mother is Sara Sidle; I believe you know her?"

He looks at the photograph again, trying to find similarities. The boy's hair is a few shades lighter than Sara's, but he has her eyes. How did he not see that immediately? "I do."

"Then you won't mind helping us with our investigation?"

The words make his heart rate pick up as he remembers why they're here. "You said he's probably been kidnapped. What happened?" Patting the front pocket of his pants, he locates his cell phone and pulls it out, scrolling through the contacts until he reaches her name. Should he call? She must be going through hell… but what can he do? Would she even want to hear from him?

"That's what we're trying to find out," Suarez says impatiently. "Hence why we would like to talk to you in more detail."

Flipping his phone closed again, he stuffs it back in his pocket. "I still don't know how I could possibly help, but fine. I need to secure everything here, give me five minutes."

"OK, so, let's start from the beginning." Donovan opens a file on the table. "You and Miss Sidle were married between 2009 and 2013?"

"That's right."

"What led to the divorce?"

Grissom takes a moment to consider his answer. "I'm not sure how that's relevant to this situation."

"Humor me."

He doesn't want to discuss his and Sara's relationship with these men, so he goes with a simplified explanation. Not a lie, just not the whole truth. "Our lives went down different paths, and in the end, we couldn't make a long-distance relationship work."

"And the divorce was final in… February of 2013."

"Around that time, yes."

"And when was the last time you saw your ex-wife?"

God, he hates that word. "A couple of months before that."

"So, there's no possibility the child is yours?"

He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to push down the pang of pain the words bring. They said that the boy – Matthew, he reminds himself – was one, but that might mean he's closer to two. He looked younger in the photo, but it could be old. But… she would have told him, wouldn't she? "When was he born?"

There's the sound of paper rustling before the answer. "February twenty-first, 2014."

She signed the papers on January twentieth. Unless the boy – Matthew – was premature, she would have gotten pregnant within a few months of that.

He's not sure why that hurts.

"Then no, he can't be mine."

"And have you been back to Las Vegas since late 2012?"

The turn the questioning takes makes him refocus, and he studies the two agents closely for a moment. "As I'm sure you already know, my mother still lives there, so yes, I've been back."

"When were you there last?"

"Christmas."

Suarez scribbles something down on the notepad in front of him and Grissom tries to read it upside down, but the agent's penmanship is barely legible.

"And you didn't see Miss Sidle during that visit?"

He turns back to Donovan at the question, frowning. "I just told you I haven't seen her since before the divorce," he reminds him.

"Oh, I know you did." The agent flips through a few pages. "And where were you yesterday between eight AM and noon?"

He takes his time considering his answer. "Am I a suspect?" he finally asks, trying to keep his voice level. It takes a lot of work.

"You used to work in law enforcement," Suarez says with a bland smile. "I'm sure you understand why we would need to investigate family and friends."

"I do, but I'm not related to the boy," he replies through gritted teeth.

"True. You were, however, married to his mother." Suarez flips the notepad closed and leans forward. "So, here's my theory. The divorce wasn't as… amicable as you try to make it out. You were out of the country for a while before, right? Away from home for long stretches of time? It's not exactly… unheard of for women to look for a little comfort in other places in that kind of situation."

Balling his hands into fists under the table, Grissom has to utilize every single ounce of self-control to not respond.

"Maybe you came home unexpected," Donovan takes over the narration. "Found the missus in a… compromising position with someone else. Maybe even a friend, someone you thought you could trust… you used to work together, right? So, you had a lot of friends in common at the crime lab and PD. Working so closely together in that kind of environment… well, I don't have to tell you that feelings can develop. You'd know that firsthand."

He knows they're fishing, knows they're trying to get a rise out of him, and he's not going to give them one. He knows there's no way he can stay calm if he opens his mouth, though, so he keeps it closed.

"So, you file for divorce," Suarez says. "She doesn't fight it, which must make it even worse, right? Doesn't even try to tell you it was a mistake, that this other guy doesn't mean anything, that it was just sex… So, the divorce goes through, and you get on with your life. I even believe that you didn't know about the kid. Or at least not at first. But maybe you ran into them over the holidays. Maybe you spotted her out on the town, going about her Christmas shopping. A happy family occasion… with her new guy and their little boy."

"Is that what happened?" Donovan asks, voice rising, slamming a hand down on the table. "You got a glimpse of her new, happy life, her life without you in it, and you snapped?"

Grissom's so angry, a strange calm settles over him.

"Are you done?" he asks when they've been quiet for a moment.

"Where were you yesterday morning?" Suarez repeats.

"I was out on my boat, I got back to the marina around eight thirty last night," he replies. He could refuse to answer, could demand a lawyer, but he just wants to get out of here as soon as possible so he can get on the road. "I left on Monday, both departure and arrival should be logged with the office at the marina. I had a meeting with one of the directors at the marine research center on Santa Catalina Island between one and three PM yesterday, I'm sure he would be happy to confirm that."

"Name?" Suarez asks, flipping his notepad open again.

"Peter Harrington." He provides the phone number before they can ask.

"Great, we'll look into that."

The two agents get to their feet, and he frowns at them. "So, are you charging me with anything?"

They exchange a look. "You're free to go."

He shakes his head as he pushes the chair out and stands. "Oh, by the way," he says off-handedly as they're about to leave the room. "Is Catherine involved in this investigation?"

"Catherine?" Donovan repeats, turning back to him with a small frown.

"Willows."

He can see the younger man swallow uncomfortably. "She is, yes, she's in charge of the investigation."

"I figured as much," he muses, pulling out his phone and making a show of tapping away at it for a moment before refocusing on the agent. "As I'm sure you already know, she also used to work at the Las Vegas crime lab. In fact, we worked together for… oh, almost twenty years. She's a very close friend of mine."

He can see that the underlying meaning of his words hit home, knows that Catherine has no idea about this little… interrogation. Young, opportunistic agents hoping to get a pat on the back, perhaps. A quick solve to boost their careers.

"I don't suppose the two of you are actively involved in the investigation?" he goes on.

"Oh, uh, no, we were just… following up on a local angle," Donovan confirms.

"So, you're not on your way to Vegas in the foreseeable future?"

"No…"

"Shame. I wouldn't have said no to a ride."

Eager to make up for the last hour – and hopefully avoid a reprimand when Catherine finds out what happened, Grissom assumes – agent Donovan offers to take him back to the marina. Grissom accepts, if only because it's quicker than getting a cab, but directs the agent to his apartment instead.

Fifteen minutes after another round of apologies, he's throwing a hastily packed duffel bag in the backseat of his car. He's still not sure Sara will want him there, but he can't just stay in San Diego and do nothing. Even if he can't help, he needs to just… be there.

It's another excruciatingly long day. Sara spends the morning with the FBI agents, going through perps from her old cases that the profiler deems possible suspects. Nobody sticks out to her, but she supposes they know what they're doing. Her friends stop by from time to time, not to give her any updates, because there aren't any, but to offer their support. Which she is grateful for, really, she just… it's been over twenty-four hours; she just wants this nightmare to end.

Catherine forces her to leave PD for lunch, and she manages to eat half the veggie burger she orders, which seems to placate her friend.

"I wanted to run something by you," Catherine says as she pushes her own plate away.

"Shoot."

"Considering there still hasn't been a ransom call, I think we can safely assume Matthew wasn't taken for financial reasons. It's still possible the perp's a suspect from one of your old cases, but in case the abduction was random, we'd like to make a public appeal."

"I assume by 'we', you mean me?" Sara asks, focusing on her plate, pushing a fry around. Memories of similar appeals she's seen on the news over the years flash through her mind.

"Well, yeah. We'll put together a script, so you won't have to come up with what you're going to say," Catherine explains. "But you know how it works."

Sara lets out a sigh. "Yeah. I'll do it, of course, I'll do anything that might get him back. I just…"

Catherine reaches across the table to squeeze her hand. "I'll be right there the whole time," she says. "So will Jim. You can do this."

"Set it up."

The nerves stay at bay until Grissom turns onto Sara's street – his old street, technically, even if he didn't get to spend a lot of time in the house before the divorce. Still, he's come all this way, he's not going back now, so he pulls into the driveway next to her Prius and gets out of the car.

There's no response when he knocks, though, and he returns to the car to consider his options.

It's only a little after five, so she shouldn't be at work, even if she is working, which she shouldn't be to begin with. He supposes she could be asleep, but she's never been a heavy sleeper, his knocking would have woken her up. Maybe there's been a development in the case, and she's at PD or the lab.

Or maybe she just can't stand to be at home and is there anyway.

He starts the car again and follows the familiar route to the police department, figuring he can check in with Jim and see what he knows if she's not there. Considering day shift is still on at the lab, he has no idea if he even knows anyone working at the moment.

PD's bustling with activity as always, and he waits somewhat patiently for the woman behind the reception desk to get off the phone. "How can I help you?" she finally asks, a fake smile on her face.

"My name is Gil Grissom," he introduces himself. "I need to see captain Jim Brass, if he's available."

She frowns at him. "I believe he's preparing a press conference," she says. "I can call him but…"

"Grissom!" They both turn at the voice, which is coming from officer Mitchell. "Long time no see, man. How are you?"

Grissom accepts the outstretched hand, and they shake. "I'm good, thanks. Or, well, as good as I can be considering…"

Mitchell nods with a grimace. "Yeah, I know what you mean. So, you're looking for Sara?"

"Yeah."

"Well, come on. Captain Brass is getting everything ready for the press conference, but she's waiting in his office."

"Hang on, Mitchell, you can't just let anyone in here!" the receptionist objects.

Mitchell frowns at her. "You don't know who this is, Maggie?"

"Um, no…"

"This man here is a legend at the Las Vegas crime lab. He's helped put away more bad guys than you can even imagine. Ask anyone."

With that, he tugs Grissom along down the hallway leading to Jim's office, ignoring the sputtered half-objections following them.

"Thanks for that," Grissom says after a moment. "I'm not sure I would have gotten past her without your help."

"My pleasure," Mitchell says with a chuckle. "Just promise you'll take care of Sara and we're even."

"I will do my best."

Someone calls for Mitchell as they pass an open door, and he offers an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I need to get back. You can find your way, right?"

"Of course," Grissom quickly agrees, even though the buffer of the officer would have been nice.

He continues down the corridor, resolutely pushing down the nerves that have made a re-appearance. He knows she has every right to never want to see him again, but he still hopes she won't push him away.

Soon, he reaches Jim's office and pauses outside it, because there she is. On the uncomfortable couch, leaning over a piece of paper on the table, her chin in her hand. She looks tired, which isn't a surprise, but seeing her still makes a strange sort of calm settle over him.

Something he hasn't experienced in over two years.

He's still trying to pull himself together and actually go into the office when she suddenly looks up, right at him, as if sensing him there.

To his relief, she doesn't look angry, just surprised. Taking a final breath, he pushes the door open and steps inside.

"Hi."

She just stares at him for a long moment. "What are you doing here?" she finally asks.

What is he doing here? The need to be there for her hasn't disappeared, but who's he kidding? She doesn't need him. She has her friends, Matthew's father… not that he's here right now, clearly, but he's bound to be around somewhere. Or maybe they're not together anymore… No, Gil, do not go there. This isn't about you, it's about a defenseless one-year-old boy. He clears his throat. "I wanted to… I know it's stupid, you have plenty of support, but I wanted to… be here, in case you… needed me."

It sounds lame to his own ears, but Sara's expression softens, so maybe he said something right. "Thank you. That means a lot. But how did you…?"

"Well," he starts, pulling up one of the chairs by the desk and sitting down across the table from her. "I was detained by the FBI earlier today."

Her eyes widen. "Shit, I'm sorry. I thought Catherine put a stop to that."

"Don't worry about it." Grissom snorts. "To be honest, the whole thing was worth it just to see the look on their faces when I told them Catherine was an old friend."

She smiles a little at that. "I bet. So, they were acting on their own? You going to report them?"

"Nah, they were just doing their job. In a misguided way, but no harm done." He studies her for a moment. "How are you?"

The smile slips off her face and she averts her eyes. "Been better."

"Any leads?"

"No. We have a composite of the woman who might have taken him, but it hasn't led anywhere." She sighs, running a hand through her hair. "Jim and Ecklie are preparing a press conference at seven, I'm supposed to make an appeal to the kidnapper."

"They think it's a random abduction?"

Sara nods. "That's the theory, since there hasn't been a ransom demand. But they're also working the revenge angle, an FBI profiler is going through my old cases, trying to identify the people who are most likely to do something like this. I think they've pretty much ruled out Natalie, she hasn't had any contact with anyone outside the prison in months and doesn't seem to be interacting much with the other inmates either. Hannah's in the UK, her call lists didn't reveal anyone stateside that she's been talking to a lot, but they're still waiting on access to her email account. The Interpol agent who talked to her seemed convinced she was sincere when she said she had nothing to do with it and would never do anything like this, but you've met her, she can run rings around all of us. And Greg's going through Basderic's correspondence at the moment, he gave me an update a little while ago, he hadn't found anything suspicious."

Grissom frowns. "Who's Basderic?"

Her eyes widen in a 'deer in headlight' look, but just as he opens his mouth to ask again, they're interrupted by Catherine.

"Gil! Not that I'm not happy to see you, but what are you doing here?" she exclaims, and he rises to step into her open arms and hug her tightly for a moment.

Releasing his old friend, he glances over his shoulder at Sara, who's again focused on the piece of paper in front of her. He turns back to Catherine. "I need to be here," he tells her, keeping his voice low.

She just nods, an understanding expression on her face. "Did Jim call you?"

Shaking his head, he reclaims the chair he vacated a moment ago. "No, I was… approached by two of your colleagues in San Diego this morning."

Her eyes flash dangerously. "Are you serious? I told Tanner and Gordon to drop that line of investigation. Give me their names."

"No," he tells her with a shake of the head, continuing at her raised eyebrow. "They were doing their job; I don't want you to reprimand them. Besides, I wouldn't even know what was going on if not for them, I don't really keep up with the news, so…"

She huffs. "Fine." She turns her attention to Sara. "How are you doing with the statement?"

"Fine," she replies with a shrug, looking up from the paper. "I've made some changes to make it sound more natural, if you want to have a look."

Catherine takes the proffered piece of paper and scans it quickly. "Looks good, I'll have it printed again with the changes."

With that, she disappears out the door and down the corridor, and Grissom shakes his head as he looks after her.

"What?" Sara asks.

"I guess it shouldn't be a surprise that she's as much of a commandeering whirlwind as an FBI agent as she was as a CSI," he muses out loud, turning back to her.

She shakes her head with a small smile. "She sure is." Then she turns her gaze to him, and for the first time in years, he experiences the familiar feeling of her seeing right through him. "So, I, um… heard you were in San Diego."

He's not sure why he feels like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, but he does.

He thought about calling her when he got back to the States. Of course he did. But he figured she wouldn't want to hear from him. Maybe that was the coward's way out.

"I am, yeah. Not that I spend that much time in the city, a few days here and there… I'm mostly out on my boat."

She frowns at him. "Boat?"

Grissom's about to respond when, again, they're interrupted, this time by Greg.

"Grissom!" he exclaims as he enters the office. "I thought Mitchell was pulling my leg when he said you were here."

"Hi, Greg," Grissom greets the younger man, clasping his hand.

"I thought you were in… what was it, Peru?"

He shakes his head. "Not for a while, no. I'm based in San Diego."

"And Nick never said anything?" Greg huffs. "Some friend."

"Nick?" Grissom repeats with a frown, looking to Sara for an explanation.

"He moved to San Diego a little over a month ago," she explains. "He was offered the director position at the crime lab there. You haven't seen him?"

"I haven't, no," he confirms. "I had no reason to think he was in town, and he obviously had no reason to think I was."

"You should call him when you get back," Greg suggests. "I'm sure he'd like to get together."

Grissom nods absentmindedly as Sara's phone starts ringing. She almost jumps out of her skin as she fumbles for it, but when she looks at the display, she sighs. "Hey, Jo."

She gets up and leaves the office, presumably for some privacy.

"Who's Jo?" Grissom asks before he can think better of it.

"Mattie's night nanny," Greg replies, and he lets out a relieved breath. "Sara managed to convince her to go to class today, I'm guessing she's calling for an update. Poor kid's feeling so guilty."

Why would the nanny be feeling guilty? And why would Sara even need a nanny, if Matthew's father is around? Unless he also works nights… agent Donovan's words echo in his mind… a friend, someone you thought you could trust… no, he can't go there. "Greg, can you tell me what actually happened? All the FBI told me was that Matthew was kidnapped."

Greg's eyes widen. "Why did the FBI want to talk to you? Catherine's in charge of the investigation, there's no way she thinks you had anything to do with this."

"A couple of opportunistic agents," Grissom says with a shrug. "Greg, come on, I don't want Sara to have to rehash this."

The younger man glances over his shoulder, but Sara's still on the phone, her back to them.

"Sara and I worked late yesterday morning," he starts with a sigh. "With Nick in San Diego and Finn gone, we've been doing that a lot lately… so Joelle was taking Mattie to daycare, and apparently, someone knocked her out and, well, took him."

Just like that. It's been a while since he thought about the fact that life can change in a split second…

"Sara mentioned there was a composite of the suspected kidnapper," Grissom says, almost to himself. "Do you have it?"

Greg pulls his phone out of his pocket and taps at the screen before holding it up. "Look familiar?"

Grissom scrutinizes the image for a long moment, but has to shake his head. "No."

"Yeah, you and the rest of Vegas," Greg says with a sigh. "There have been thousands of tips, but nothing's led anywhere."

"And they're looking into old cases." Grissom frowns. "Sara said you were going through the correspondence of someone called… Bastic?"

"Basderic," Greg corrects, then gulps. "Right, you don't know about that."

"About what, Greg?"

The other man shrinks back a little and Grissom realizes that he, unknowingly, used his supervisor voice. "He was a suspect in a case a few years ago, a mass shooting at Frank's Diner. He was stalking one of the waitresses. Turns out he had nothing to do with it, but Sara was pretty hard on him… a few months later, he tried to frame her for murder."

"What?"

"Relax, we figured it out." Greg pauses. "Obviously. He's in Ely, won't be getting out any time soon. But yeah, I was going through his correspondence at the prison – all phone calls are recorded, obviously, and they keep copies of all electronic and physical mail."

"Did you find anything?" Sara asks, returning to the room.

"No, nothing," Greg replies with an apologetic look. "Nothing strange anyway, nothing that sounds like code, and nothing obvious. We're still going to talk to the people he's been in touch with, obviously, but it's just his lawyer, his sister, and some woman he apparently met at one of those… date-a-murderer sites."

Sara stares at him incredulously. "Seriously?"

"I know, I don't get it either."

"It's actually been classified as a psychological condition, it's called hybristophilia," Grissom pipes in, earning incredulous looks from both his conversational partners. "Which is not at all relevant right now."

To his surprise, Sara starts laughing. "No, thank you, I needed that," she says after a moment. "I've missed your random, obscure facts."

The sound of her laughter, and her words, make something warm settle deep inside him.

Then she sobers. "Do you have photos of the girlfriend and sister?"

The implication is obvious, but Greg quickly shakes his head. "I do, neither of them looks anything like the woman Joelle saw. Plus, the girlfriend lives in Albany and hasn't left the state in months, and the sister's in New Orleans – I checked with both of their employers; they've both been at work all week so there's no way either of them could have been here yesterday."

"OK, good." She lets out a long breath and slumps down on the couch. Immediately, Greg sits down next to her and wraps an arm around her shoulders. It makes Grissom ache, how easily the other man can just… hold her. Offer physical comfort.

"Hey, we've talked about this, right?" Greg says, voice softening. "Keep your chin up, we'll find him."

Sara nods.

"You've got the statement all memorized?"

"More or less," she confirms. "Are you staying for the press conference, or you need to get back?"

"I should get back, yeah," Greg says with a sigh. "We just got access to Hannah's email account, so I've got hours and hours in front of the computer to look forward to."

"I'd trade you, but…"

"Yeah, I think I'll stick with the tedious computer work." He squeezes her one more time before standing. "Stay strong." He turns to Grissom. "And you make sure she eats something before the press conference."

"Hey, I can feed myself," Sara objects weakly, but Greg fixes her with a look.

"And when was the last time you did?"

"Lunch."

"And when was that?"

"Noon-ish."

"And it's now after six. I repeat – make sure she eats something."

Grissom catches himself smiling at their banter, but nods at Greg. "I will."

Sara gives him a look through narrowed eyes as the other man leaves the room.

"He's right, you know," he points out gently, and she sighs.

"I know."

"I assume there's still a vending machine in the lobby?" he asks, rising to his feet.

She nods. "I can get my own food, you know."

"I know. But I haven't had anything to eat since I left San Diego, so I need to grab something for myself anyway," he replies. "Any requests?"

"Surprise me."