Hi hi :) Here we are with a new chapter. It's fun reliving the original and some great storylines. One is about to hit Grissom right where it hurts.

I hope you are enjoying the story. Reviews appreciated with your thoughts.

A huge thank you to my current Pat reon supporters – Nat, Mrs Crabby, Dbackfan, AliceC, ChristineS, DawnS, Jillian, IngridT, Tracer85, NiniZ and NancyB.

Always my gracious thanks to calim for the beta and suggestions.

On we go….

Chapter 17

About an hour later

Numerous tables were now full of evidence boxes, some open, some not and the contents removed from those with broken seals.

"This really is madness," Sara said, watching as Grissom removed his gloves and threw them into a trash can.

"Yeah," he agreed on a sigh.

The Paul Millander boxes hadn't been the only ones that had had items removed. Those linked with the Kevin Greer killings were missing the blow-up doll. The only ones that appeared untouched were the boxes associated with the death of Debbie Marlin. The dust on them hadn't been disturbed.

"I don't understand why they wouldn't take something from Debbie's case," Catherine stated. "They did with the others."

Walking around the table, Grissom's eyes worked over the boxes again as well as their lids.

"Because they changed the game for that one," he answered. "They didn't want it to be exactly the same they just wanted to send me a message. Plus, there wasn't a great deal of physical evidence they could use to gloat with."

"True," Catherine agreed.

"What are you thinking, Gil?" Max asked.

Grissom turned toward her. "I'm thinking these boxes were opened in the past six months or so."

Sara's eyes widened a little. "Why do you say that?"

Pointing to one of the lids, he looked at her.

"Look at the dust on this compared to one from the Marlin case. There are areas with less dust which indicates fingers perhaps. The dust has returned but it's not evenly distributed and is quite light in places. Debbie Marlin's boxes have a thick layer on the lid and sides, with no patches, meaning I don't even think those boxes were ever considered."

Max's eyebrows soared. "If that's true then it could be someone here, right now who is doing this."

"Well," Catherine said with disgust as she raised her hands. "There goes our theory of we'll never be able to tell who might be involved in this."

Grissom held up a hand. "This is just a suspicion. I doubt we can prove when these were opened and for all we know the boxes could have been moved legitimately."

"Do you actually believe that?" Sara challenged.

Again, he looked at her, nipping teeth into his lip but failing to give an answer.

Stepping around the table, Max drew closer to Grissom who frowned at her.

"I'm going to ask you something rather personal," she told him.

Watching as her husband swallowed, Sara was quick to join him looking concerned.

"I need you to think really hard," Max continued. "Are there any other cases that have really hit you on a more personal note like the others? One's that this psycho would love to wave in your face."

As Grissom's frown deepened, Sara immediately understood.

"You think other items might have been stolen for cases we don't know about yet," Sara assumed.

Max nodded and Grissom closed his eyes for a second, taking in a deep breath as he thought.

"There are some," he said quietly, eyes opening and attention falling back to Sara.

"Oh, fuck no," she growled, immediately knowing that look on his face.

Working her eyes between the two now it was Max's turn to look confused. "What?"

Letting out a loud and frustrated sigh, Grissom rubbed his forehead.

"There are several cases that involved… my team so… affected me more than a stranger's case may," he admitted.

"Can you tell me?" Max requested.

Sara felt her heart beating a little faster now as his eyes found her once again.

"Nick Stokes," Grissom said, giving the director his attention again. "CSI kidnapped by a man named Walter Gordon in 2005 and buried alive in a glass box." Max listened as he continued. "The murder of CSI Warrick Brown in 2009. Killed by one of our own, our very own undersheriff."

"Yes, I, um, read about that," Max told him. "Any others?"

Grissom inhaled deeply. "One more."

His head tipped back to Sara, looking her in the eye as he spoke.

"Natalie Davis. She earned the nickname of the miniature killer as she would make models of her crime scenes and leave them for us to find. She murdered four people in a year's timeframe starting in 2006. When her stepfather killed himself in an attempt to take the blame for the killings, Natalie blamed me for his death."

As he paused, Sara reached out and squeezed his arm. "Go on," she encouraged.

Managing a very weak smile, he turned to stand right by his wife and looked at Max.

"She found out about Sara and… I and… kidnapped her, trapped her under a car in the desert and left her to die."

Giving a sympathetic look, Max nodded. "Yes, I'm aware of Natalie Davis. I saw information in your file, Sara, when I asked you to join us last year."

"Oh." Sara cleared her throat.

"Hey, it's not relevant to your abilities. To get through something like that shows just how much of a badass you are."

Now Sara laughed, if nothing else it just came out, but it did lighten the thickness in the air.

"I'll take that as a compliment," she said.

Max smiled at her and then gave Grissom a nod.

"Thank you," she said sincerely. "I know it can be difficult to discuss things so close to your heart."

Grissom gave a nod back.

"I think we should go and check the evidence boxes for the people Gil just mentioned," Max said.

Sara's heart pounded again at Max's suggestion. She didn't want to relive what Natalie had done to her. She'd spent years trying to ease the fear and pain she'd caused. Stepping back into that unnerved her but what really bothered her was that someone out there might want to copy with she'd done.

CSICSICSICSICSICSICSI

Just before 9pm

Closing and locking the door behind her, Sara watched Grissom take off his jacket and throw it onto the sofa then rub his eyes. Walking toward him, she slid the bag from her shoulder and dropped it next to his jacket then waited for him to face her. A few seconds later, he did just that.

Reaching out she took hold of his hands and held them between their bodies as she invaded his personal space. Staring into his eyes, she gave a loving smile. The silence that enveloped them would likely remain for a little while until his brain processed all of the day's activity and then they would talk.

However, Sara had come to learn that sometimes leaving the subject alone, even if just for a little while, was required to keep some sanity. That obsessive level they were notorious for reaching, well, it was just way too early for that yet. They'd only been there two days. But they'd seen a lot in those two short days.

This particular evening finished with Max kicking the team out way past the time their shift should have ended. But they had to draw the line somewhere otherwise they would never stop.

Sara did feel a little relief and she suspected her husband did, too, that none of the cases relating to her or the original team had been tampered with. Even though there were a lot of boxes to check, especially concerning Natalie Davis, it didn't look like any of them had even been touched let alone opened. That ice cold feeling the thought of that women sent through her was enough let alone having to look through evidence concerning the devastation she'd caused.

Max arranged for the night shift team to process the area, boxes and evidence that had been compromised. Not that they were naive enough to think they would find anything useful it had to be done. The fact that any member of law enforcement that had access to the vault could have touched the boxes for some authentic reason or another didn't help. Even if they did find something, there was no guarantee they could link it to their killer.

Once they left the lab, they'd stopped by a sandwich place for a quick bite to eat. Neither of them felt very hungry but at Sara's insistence they had to at least try and eat something. Thankfully, Grissom agreed even if Sara suspected it was just to please her.

And now, back in the hotel, she wasn't entirely sure how their evening would play out. There was just so much going on surely it was just going to be impossible to have a cut off between work and them. Especially considering how much she worried about Grissom. Whether he wanted to accept it or not, this lunatic was out for his blood.

"I'm thinking about a shower and then maybe a little TV in bed. Try and relax. Going to join me?" she asked.

There, the ice was broken.

Pulling on her hands, he then slipped his free and wrapped arms around her, holding her close.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

The soft and concerned tone she heard surprised her and in all honesty, so did the question.

"Me?" she asked, giving him a frown.

"Ugh huh," he replied.

"I'm… fine. I guess. I think." Her head shook a little at the fumbling in her response. "Why?"

Feeling as his fingers entwined and his hands pressed into the small of her back, she looked into his eyes.

"After the warehouse. You know…"

"You mean talking about Natalie?"

He nodded.

Her heart swelled. He must have so much going on in his head, yet he was thinking about her? Or, maybe he was just trying to distract her.

Running hands up his back, she gave a little smile just happy they were talking and not sitting in total silence.

"I'm fine," she said quietly. "It's never easy thinking about that but, it's okay."

His head dipped closer. "Promise?"

Smiling, she stepped back and retook his hand.

"Why don't you come and scrub my back and we can talk about it some more."

CSICSICSICSICSICSICSI

Rolling over, Sara dropped her arm over what she expected to be her husband. Instead, she was greeted with a cold, empty space.

Quickly sitting up, she squinted through the darkness, looking around the room. Noticing a light coming under the slightly open bedroom door, she kicked back the covers and slid out of bed. Eyes finding the bedside clock blinking 3:50am at her, teeth nipped into her lip as she headed for the door. Quietly pushing it open, she walked out into the suite, immediately noticing Grissom sat at the table, back to her, the sound of him clicking a mouse catching her ears.

Letting out a silent sigh, she approached him, noticing when his head lifted and tipped very slightly to the right. He'd heard her.

Reaching him, she lifted hands to his shoulders and gently rubbed.

"Do you know what time it is?" she asked, her voice calm and more caring than throwing the worry at him that she was feeling inside.

"Early," he replied. "Or late. Depending on which way you want to look at it."

Sara's lips pursed as he looked over his shoulder. "How long have you been up?"

As he looked back at the laptop, Sara noticed images from their most recent victim on the screen alongside photographs of Debbie Marlin. No doubt he was comparing and no doubt this case was chewing him to pieces even if he was trying to hide it.

"I never got to sleep," he admitted. "So, a while."

The sadness in his voice made Sara tingle and not in a good way. She didn't like seeing him like this. It was time to change the course of his thinking before things really started affecting them personally because she could already sense it. He was clamming up and she wasn't about to have that happen again after the years it had taken for them to start talking properly to each other.

Walking around him, she pushed on the chair arm to move it back a little, the wheels squeaking a bit under the movement, and he threw her a surprised look when she straddled him and settled in his lap. And for a moment, there they sat. Eyes locked, it was almost like they were trying to read each other's thoughts.

Rubbing one hand over his left shoulder, the other lifted to brush fingers through his hair.

"You know," she began, "I thought we'd moved past this."

Clearing his throat, Grissom frowned. "What?"

As her finger and thumb delicately pinched his ear lobe, she leaned closer.

"Keeping things from each other."

His jaw worked to the left, and he broke her gaze, casting down his eyes, head bowing a little.

Not letting this deter her, Sara slipped a finger under his chin, and applied gentle pressure to lift his head back up.

"Gil, talk to me."

A/N: Hmmm, what is Grissom thinking?