A/N: Welcome to another amazing chapter, written by co-author, JellybeanChiChi! Many many thanks to the new readers/reviewers, as well as the readers that have been here from the start. All your reviews are always very very much appreciated. As is your patience between chapters. There is another chapter ready to post after this one, which I plan to post either at the weekend or possibly next Monday. I hope you enjoy this chapter and the one to follow

Chapter 76

It was with apprehension, a heavy heart and fearful anxiety that the Grissoms called Donna Simmons. The conversation was short. Simmons was on shift at the hospital and couldn't take time off the clock to break away for a private phone conversation. She asked if they could meet early in the morning after her shift at a local 24/7 diner.

"Is 6:30 too early?" Simmons asked.

"It's not too early," Grissom said as he jotted down the name of the diner and address.

"I'll be on the lookout for you."

Grissom didn't bother asking how she would know who he was. Thanks to his face being on the commercial. He pushed the "end" button to end the call and turn off the phone's speaker feature. "I have no idea what I'm going to say to this woman. Or what she wants."

"We'll find out together."

"What do you mean?" Grissom said. "You have work tomorrow."

"We're meeting early enough," Sara said. "I'll take my car."

"What about Daniel?" Grissom said. "Mom is out of town with her two friends. She can't take care of him. And how are we going to get a sitter that early?"

"You're not meeting this person alone, Gil," Sara said. "Like you said you have no idea what she wants, what she's going to say. You need support, and I'm going to be there."

There was no arguing with her, so he didn't.

".."

The Grissoms arrived in two cars. Grissom in one car, and Sara and Daniel in the other. Although they were going to leave at the same time, a last-minute diaper change gave Grissom a small head start.

When he arrived, he scanned the place. It wasn't long before he locked eyes with a woman who clearly recognized him. She stood from her table, giving Grissom the silent invitation to approach her.

She was stationed at a table in the back of the restaurant away from the breakfast crowd. "Ms. Simmons?" Grissom asked.

"Yeah. Sit down," she said, sitting down herself.

Grissom waited a beat. They were at a table for only two people. "Ah, Ms. Simmons, would you mind if we moved to a bigger table?"

"You expecting someone else?" Her tone suggested frustration and a little bit of ire. "I swear to God, if you brought a lawyer…"

Her voice died down as Sara arrived at the table with Daniel asleep in his car seat. Grissom stood up and took the heavy carrier from Sara, who nodded her thanks. "This is my wife," Grissom said kindly, perhaps even meekly. "We couldn't get a sitter for our son. If this is a problem, or if you're uncomfortable, they can sit somewhere else. I'm sorry I didn't ask last night or even this morning."

Donna Simmons took stock in the situation. When she first saw Grissom up close, she was surprised how haggard he seemed. He seemed thinner, older and a lot less menacing than the mug shot. And seeing his very pregnant wife arrive with a toddler was a bit more shocking. According to what she heard about this guy, he was supposed to be a smarmy ex-law enforcement goon who was involved in murder and blackmail.

Of course, looks could be deceiving. Or she got a complete line of bullshit about this guy. Not wanting to decide either way, she got up and moved one table over, that had four chairs.

Sara and Grissom sat at the table across from Donna, while they put the baby seat on a chair close to Grissom. There was a silence that came across the table, but Sara noticed how Donna kept her attention on Grissom, and Grissom would catch her eye and then his eyes would retreat to his hands clasped on top of the table.

Yet he was the one who initiated a conversation. "Ms. Simmons, I wanted to offer my condolences on the loss of your brother. I know my words are probably not enough…"

Donna cut him off. "Oh, so you did know him?"

"Well, no… Not that I know… Honestly, I don't remember any guards during my stay at High Desert."

"High Desert?" Simmons said septically. "Tom worked at Southern Desert Correctional. If you were at a completely different facility, why were you and my brother on the same bus?"

"The bus made a stop at Southern Desert before… everything happened," Grissom said. "What did they tell you about what happened that day and what happened to your brother?"

"They told me he was shot and killed after a prisoner ambush where you were the only prisoner who survived."

"That's all Southern Desert officials told you?"

"That's all anyone has told me, and, trust me, I've asked around — prison officials, cops, lawyers, DAs, the mayor's office. They all gave me that one goddamn sentence I just said to you."

It was easy to identify the disdain in Donna's voice, and that it was directed toward Grissom. He could have been defensive; he had no role in coordinating the ambush and no role in shooting anyone, including her brother. But Grissom knew from tragic experience that this was no time for defensiveness.

"I'm sorry I don't know who your brother was, but I can share with you everything I remember about the ambush," Grissom said.

Donna was struck by the sincerity in his voice. He sounded as contrite with his apology as he did on the phone with her. But it could just be another act. And she didn't come to this diner for sympathy or apologies. She came for information. "OK. Go ahead."

"It's not going to be easy to hear."

"You think it's easy to hear, 'ya, your brother's dead, but we won't tell you how or where'?"

Grissom nodded and took a deep breath. While there were certain moments in the past year he has gone over in his head over and over, the accident itself wasn't one of them. His mind had been churning all night, but only bits and pieces came back. But sitting at the diner, there was an air of urgency that helped fuel his memory. He concentrated before speaking, trying to retrieve the clearest memories as possible.

"I got on the bus at my facility, High Desert, in the early morning hours. Two other prisoners got on and one guard. I didn't know the guard or the prisoners. The guard put us in the cage that was partitioned from the other seats. I was in the first row, right by the window. The other two prisoners were put behind me. Not sure where. I never looked behind me. The guard cuffed my hand to the seat. After left the cage he sat towards the front of the bus."

"Why were they transferring you?"

"I was getting beat up. I ended up in the infirmary a couple of times. I was afraid I would die there, so I asked my lawyer at the time to get me transferred."

"OK. Go on."

He took another moment to refocus. The memory was becoming clearer and clearer in his mind. "I tried to keep my head down as much as possible. I didn't want to get anyone's attention, because I didn't want to risk getting recognized and getting targeted again. We made one stop about, I don't know, maybe an hour into the drive. That was the stop for Southern Nevada. I remember looking out the window and seeing the sign for the facility."

That line caught Donna's attention, as it should have. That was where her brother worked. Seeing her sit up straighter, Grissom tried to jar his memory as best as possible about the stop. "We sat on the bus for a while before anyone boarded." He paused and stared at the wall. He was surprised what he could remember. "But when the doors opened, I just looked down. But I remember there was four sets of feet that came into the cage. Three with prison shoes. Soft sole slip-ons. And one with boots. Steely toed boots. Prison issue. Definitely what the guards wore. The prisoners were set behind me."

He paused again but didn't focus on anyone at the table. "The guard left the cage and sat closer to the cage than the other guard." Grissom used his hands to demonstrate where the guard sat. "Two rows between where he sat and the cage. But across from me. I glanced up and I could see him. Was your brother thin? Dirty blond hair? Maybe a little shorter than me?"

Donna picked up her purse, which could have held as much stuff as an overnight bag. She went into it and pulled out a photo. "This is Tom. You think it was him?"

The photo showed a fresh-faced, young man with a cocky smile. "Yes, that could have been him. He didn't look quite as…" Grissom stumbled for an appropriate word.

"Optimistic? Carefree?" Donna offered, getting a nod from Grissom. "Yeah, prison life does that. So much stress. I warned him being a guard would take years off his life. I just didn't realize … Anyway, keep going."

Grissom understood that sentiment about prison life. "Even after everyone seemed settled in, there was a long time before the bus started going. I looked up again, and the first guard was coming toward the cage. I put my head down. He banged on the cage door and yelled, 'Cuff check.' The he came in and checked the link attached to my hand. I guess he did the same for all the prisoners. Then he left. I looked up again, and he sat directly behind the guard from Southern Nevada."

"You sure?"

Grissom pursed his lips. Again, he was a bit surprised he recalled so much so vividly. But he was sure of his memory. "I'm sure." He frowned as he mentally chronicled the next moments. "The bus started moving. I didn't focus on anyone else. I had this feeling of isolation and fear for what would happen next. I just looked out the window. It was just a generic desert landscape. It was so hot in the bus, and I would close my eyes and try to sleep, but the bus would jostle me awake. I remember thinking we passed a location where I had investigated a crime scene. Desert Camp Rock. But I couldn't be sure."

His voice trailed off. He was clearly lost in the memory. Sara looked at him and then looked across the table and caught a glimpse of Donna. She sat straight up, stoic. But she was focused on every word Grissom said, and didn't dare interrupt him now. While she wanted to ask if he was OK or touch him to let him know he was no longer alone on that bus, she didn't want to disturb his memory.

"I felt nauseous," Grissom continued. "I wondered how many more stops we would make. I looked away from the window, and I saw the guards. I thought it was odd they sat one behind the other. You would think protocol was to have one guard seated on one side of the aisle and the other guard on the opposite side. The Southern Nevada guard was asleep. But the guard from my prison started strapping himself in his seat. Using the shoulder restraint as well. Then he reached for …"

He stopped speaking and his face was full of distress. After a moment of pause, he faced Donna and made eye contact. For her part, the look made her swallow a lump in her throat. She had to find her voice before she said, "There's more."

Grissom nodded and looked down.

Her voice was now resolute and angry. "Goddammit, this is why I came. You tell me what happened next!"

Sara was ready to pounce, but Grissom quickly put his hand on her arm, surprising her with the quick movement. "There was some type of accident. The bus took a hit, and we were jarred around mercilessly. The bus tumbled, turned. It was horrible. Then everything turned black. I was pulled out of my seat and forced to leave the bus."

"Before the accident," Donna asked, her voice a combination of pleading and snarl, "what did he reach for?"

Grissom took a deep breath. "His gun. He put it to the back of the sleeping guard's head and shot him. He knew when the accident would happen and killed him." He looked up at Donna. "I'm sorry, Ms. Simmons. He had no chance. … I wish I could have done something. … I'm so sorry."

Donna looked away from Grissom. A strong woman with a weathered, experienced poker face she used when processing tough information, this information was a bit too much. For the first time, her eyes displayed vulnerability and she knew it. Without a word, she stood up and walked quickly towards the restrooms, with Sara's eyes following her every move.

Seeing Donna open the women's bathroom door, Sara focused her attention on her husband, putting a supportive hand on his back and rubbing gentle circles. Grissom drew a long breath.

"I always remembered hearing gunshots," Grissom said, his voice low, sad and reflective. "I just could never grasp how or when." His voice trailed off and he turned to Sara. "Now all I can see is that gun pressed against that man's head."

This time Sara swallowed the lump in her throat. "Are you OK? We can go right now. This has already been too much for you."

"I just told her the violent way her brother died. I can't go… not yet."

Before she could say anything, Daniel awoke and started fidgeting. Sara went to stand up and get him, but Grissom had already unstrapped him and picked him up. "You want to pass him to me?" Sara asked.

"No," Grissom said, cradling Daniel on his shoulder and offering soft kisses, before placing his son on his lap. "I've got him."

The was the image Donna Simmons viewed from just outside the bathroom door. So many thoughts swirling in her mind – about the man she just met and about the man she had known since she stared down into his crib when she was 4 years old.