A/N: Dear readers, I'm sorry for the delay in this. There was all kinds of stuff going down and then the mojo left. But we hope to get this wrapped up soon. Take care and thanks for reading. Co-writer JellybeanChiChi did another excellent job on this chapter.

CHAPTER 59

Sitting in his study, Grissom shifted in his seat. His movement caused Hank to stand up and nudge at Grissom's good knee.

Grinning at his dog, Grissom put his pen and journal upon his lap and stroked Hank's fur. Ever since Grissom returned home from his last stay in the hospital, Hank kept a careful eye on his master. He knew the dog kept an eye on him, a bit worried about his master. "I'm fine, buddy. Just trying to get comfortable."

Although comforted by the sound of Grissom's voice, the dog moved closer to him and sat at attention at his feet.

"What's a matter, Hank?" Grissom asked with a smile. "I'm fine. Really."

Shifting towards the edge of his seat, Grissom lovingly stroked his loyal companion. "You know, I don't plan on taking another header down the stairs. So don't you worry about that OK?"

Hank's gaze never left Grissom. "It was a stupid move on my part, wasn't it boy? If I could have taken back that day, trust me I would."

The dog let out a sigh and relaxed under Grissom's touch while listening to his introspective voice. "That certainly wouldn't be the only day I'd take back. There's a helluva a lot of days. A helluva a lot."

Lost in his thoughts and the rhythm of petting his dog, Grissom jumped slightly when Hank licked his hand and then moved sit at his master's feet. Grissom looked down at the journal sitting on his lap. He picked it back up and sighed as he read the few sentences jotted down there.

"It's too difficult to let go of responsibility when you see how the damage has affected you and the ones you love. My actions from decades ago led to a domino effect of actions that affected my here and now. For the past few months 'If I had only' has been a mantra I continually hear. I'm not sure I deserve to let that mantra go."

Holding the pen in his hand, he thought about continuing to write something else, but drew his pen back. The exercise given to him by Oscar, his counselor in PTSD, proved to be more difficult than Grissom imagined.

Although his deadline to finish his exercise loomed in a few hours, Grissom had never been more happy to hear a knock on the partially closed door of the den. The noise made Hank rise up off Grissom's feet.

"Gil," Sara said on the other side of the door. "You busy? Can I come in?"

Grissom had already stood up when he heard the knock and opened the door wider for Sara, who had Daniel in tow. "Everything OK?"

"Yeah, I just didn't want to disturb you," Sara said, putting Daniel down as he made his way immediately towards Hank. "I know you have to get this down by your session today."

"Yeah."

"How's it going?"

"Ummm… OK. I was thinking of taking a break," Grissom said heading out of the den.

"Well, stay here and keep working," Sara said. "I'll bring something to drink or a snack."

"That's OK."

With his back to her, Sara narrowed her eyes. She knew he was stalling, but he was a grown man. A stubborn grown man. "Come on Hank. Your shadow will follow."

The trio left the office single file, with Daniel gently holding onto Hank's tail. They found Grissom taking a stack of mail to the table. Sara scooped up Daniel and put him in the high chair next to his dad before heading to the refrigerator to grab items for a sandwich.

"Cheese sandwich OK?"

"BING! BA BA! BING!"

"I wasn't talking to you, Mr. Center of Attention. But, yes, I'll make you one," Sara said.

"When it comes to food, you are always talking to him," Grissom said, as he stood up to get Daniel's sippy cup and fill it with milk. "But I'll join him if you don't mind."

Sara nodded and constructed some sandwiches while Grissom returned to the table proffering the cup to his son. "So, were you able to get any work done?"

"Some," Grissom said returning his attention to the mail.

"If you need some help I can…"

"It's not anything you can help with, hon," Grissom interrupted. "You got a letter from your friend in Boston."

"Really? I've been so busy I've just stacked the mail for the last couple of days," Sara said as she buttered pieces of bread. "I know this is like a personal exercise, but if you need to talk things out before putting stuff on paper, I'm here to listen. Sometimes that can help even with personal stuff. I know you were kind of … I don't know what's the right word… Nervous? … No, more apprehensive about this whole thing. But I think you'll feel good about your decision to go to a longer group meeting."

Although Grissom had met with Oscar, his PTSD counselor a couple of times, he recommended that Grissom attend a mini-retreat session with other first responders — mostly cops and a couple of EMTs — who attend PTSD counseling sessions. Before the session, each member was given a writing exercise; write a letter of forgiveness. But it needed to be a letter written to themselves, and it was something that made Grissom exceedingly uncomfortable. It took several days for him to admit to Sara what the exercise even was. But after seeing him struggle for days and hours, he finally relented and told her.

While Sara thought it was a good idea for Grissom to cut himself a little slack, she knew the spectre of guilt weighed heavily upon him. She wanted to tread lightly about the subject because she didn't want him to shut down, but she still wanted to offer some encouragement.

"Maybe if you just write a couple of lines that might be enough for now," Sara continued. "Who knows? Maybe hearing others talk in a larger group will spark something for you while you are there. That might be the best thing, don't you think?"

She continued to flip the sandwiches and complete them. She took half a sandwich and cut it into pieces for Daniel and arranged it on his Blue's Clues plate. The banging of a small fist on the plastic high chair table made her realize Grissom hadn't responded to anything she said. She plated Grissom's sandwich and approached him. "Hey?"

Grissom kept his attention to a letter in his hands.

Sara set down Daniel's plate and looked curiously at the letter. "What's that?"

Finally Grissom looked up at Sara. He looked perplexed but also pale. "It's from the county of the clerk's office. We're being charged $3,298.56 for use of the ankle bracelet. If we don't pay, I could be marked as a re-offender."

"What?! Use of the bracelet?! Are you kidding? You were cleared of charges! They can't charge you for that."

Grissom bit his lip, careful not to yell at Sara. "Well, I guess they can." With a shaky hand, he passed her the letter then stood up to try and calm his nerves. "I'm out of work, the hospital bills are going to come in and now we have to come up with this money?"

Sara looked at the itemized bill. "These charges are outrageous. The daily fee is at least three times as much as usual, and so is the set-up fee. And I've never heard of a disposal fee before."

Grissom walked back over to her. "It says it was damaged. Water damaged."

"Bullshit," Sara said. "They're supposed to be waterproof. They're just screwing with us!"

"What do you mean the daily fee is three times as much? How would you know that?"

"I've seen bills for them," Sara said. "The range is pretty wide — $5 to as much as $45 — but these charges are way higher. And the set-up fee? That's maybe $200."

"You sure about that?" Grissom said, garnering a very annoyed look from Sara. "Listen, if you're sure than I want to do something about it."

Sara's expression changed. "You want me to look it up online? I'm sure I can find it somewhere."

"Yes. I would," Grissom said. "We can't afford this, Sara. I can't let what I did ruin us more than it has."

Sara let that go knowing where his mind was going. She had told him there and back that he didn't cause anything.

But maybe it would be better if he heard that from others who knew PTSD on a more personal level.

The phone intercom on Dana Osorio's desk rang, but she waited until she got two lines of text typed before she answered it. "Sorry, Kelly. I wanted to finish my thought before I answered."

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Ms. Osorio. I know you're trying get the brief done," said the lawyer's receptionist.

"I am," Dana replied. "Is something wrong?"

"I have Gil Grissom on the line. He sounds very nervous and angry."

"At you?"

"No, not at me. He's never rude at all, which is why I buzzed you," Kelly said. "He wants to talk to you and said it is really urgent."

Dana shook her head. She felt bad for the man who had been wrongfully imprisoned and almost lost his life in a horrific prison break. Formerly her father's client, Grissom retained Dana's services to reinstate his retirement, which had been quashed when he was wrongfully accused.

While Dana worked diligently for her client, her efforts had been stalled by the D.A.'s office, a hurdle she knew would be challenging to overcome. But she also knew it would take time and patience.

Something she most likely thought was running out of the Grissom household.

"Kelly, he's probably talking about his retirement plan, and I can't tell him any more progress…"

"No ma'am," Kelly said. "I don't mean to interrupt but he specifically said it wasn't about his retirement. It regarded a private matter and said it was urgent."

She did have to finish this brief, but Dana knew Kelly wouldn't have disturbed her if there wasn't something wrong. Like many good law receptionists, Kelly could pick up on whether a client was full of shit or full of angst. The tone of Kelly's voice — a mix of interest and compassion — let Dana know that Kelly believed Grissom was worried about something.

"You said he sounded nervous and angry."

"Yes, ma'am," Kelly said sympathetically. "He really sounds awful. If you want me to take a message I can."

Looking down at her watch, Dana noticed she still had two hours before her brief was due. She probably had time to take the call. If anything, she was curious and hoped nothing had happened to anyone in Grissom's family. "It's better I talk with him. Thank you, Kelly."

"Thank you. I'll patch you through."

The phone rang again, and Dana picked up the line. "Hi Gil. It's Dana. Kelly said you had some urgent news. What's going on?"

Dana listened to Grissom as he told her about the letter he received that was postmarked two days prior. He told her what the letter said, the demand for the funds due, and the threat of legal action against him if he didn't pay up. He also shared the information Sara found online about how the numbers they are charging Grissom are blatantly overpriced.

While Dana knew the price on the letter was moot because Grissom shouldn't be responsible for any charges period, she let him vent as much as he needed. One thing he said that struck her in the gut was, "I don't know why there is this vendetta against me. I wish I knew what I did. But … I just can't figure it out and I can't make this nightmare go away."

When he had come to a stopping point she spoke to him succinctly and calmly. "Gil, I'm sorry you got that letter and you did nothing to spur this. I know your mind is spinning 100 miles an hour, but for all we know this could be a boneheaded clerical error by some new intern in the accounting department. Either way, I'm going to get to the bottom of this, OK? Can you trust me on this?"

She felt thankful he said, "yes." She asked him to fax him whatever papers he wanted so she could have it in her files and he would do it right away from his home office.

"Fantastic. I'll look for those to come in soon," Dana said. "How is everything else at home? How is Sara and Daniel?"

Asking about them relieved a little tension from Grissom's voice, although the anxiety was still noticeable. Dana knew it would be best to deal with this situation as soon as possible. "Give them my regards, OK, Gil? … Alright. I'll talk to you soon."

After she got off the phone with Gil, Dana made a quick plan of action in her head. While reassuring Gil that the letter was a clerical error, in her own private thoughts, Dana was more skeptical of the action. What she didn't say to Grissom was the prompting for the action might have come from the district attorney's office. The letter's arrival was too close to the inquiries Dana had been making to Ladd Sayers' office about taking his foot off the brake of Grissom's retirement. This action smacked of some type of dirty pool trick to get Grissom to back down.

Or it could be a dumb clerical error.

But Dana doubted it. Yet, the question is why would Sayers stoop to such a blatantly vile tactic? Why does he want Grissom to go away quietly and empty-handed?

She wanted to find out, and right away. But she still had the brief to finish. She called in an assistant to her help knock out the brief, read it over with him once or twice and then leave it to him for editing and grammar check. Yet, before they got to work, Dana spoke with Kelly.

"I need you to use your contacts to get me today's schedule of Ladd Sayers whereabouts," Dana told the receptionist as she took notes. "I need to know exactly when he's going to be in his office."

As she took her notes, Dana could hear the fax machine receiving a fax. Undoubtedly from Grissom.