Part 2/? Gil Grissom sat at his desk, fingering the message from Tom Adler. He had already spoken with the him, discovering that Sara had visited Pamela Adler at Tom's invitation. The man had been concerned about Sara's abrupt departure. Ever since the call had come through, Grissom had tried to contact Sara, both on her home telephone number and pager. His calls had all been picked up by her voice mail. If Tom had been concerned, Grissom was even more so. But he was also angry. Angry that Sara had not heeded his advice, had allowed herself to be caught with an emotional attachment to the victim. Past experience had proven that this was not wise; the plight of the victims and their families ate away at the psyche, shifting the focus of an investigator from the evidence to the moral desire for justice. Grissom chewed on his bottom lip, watching the phone and wishing that it would ring. Thinking back, he regretted not pulling Sara aside and asking more about why this particular case affected her more than others. Her enthusiasm for her job was vividly evident, the joy at investigating and solving a crime a challenge and delight. In her, he could see pieces of himself. And there was something lurking below the surface with this case that he had failed to pinpoint. Her reactions to this particular victim were personal. Grissom had tried to steer her away from becoming too closely involved. Now, he was angry with himself for not having a more serious talk with her. He should not have let her think that he was closed off from his victims - far from it. Yet, he had let Sara walk away thinking that he was able to just shut off his emotions, whereas it was a matter of control. "Hey, Gris." Grissom looked up and found Catherine Willows in the doorway, her hip resting against the door jamb. Her head was cocked slightly to the right, her arms crossed as she patiently waited for him to talk to her. "Oh, hi Cath," he responded absently, giving her a cursory glance. "What's wrong?" It didn't surprise Catherine that she was going to have to play twenty questions with Grissom. He was never one to be forthcoming with information at the best of times and when he did, it tended to be cryptic, layered with textured meaning. "Huh?" "You've been playing with that piece of paper, chewing your lip and watching the phone as if it was God's answer to all the world's problems for the last minute that I've watched. Probably longer at a guess. What's wrong?" "Here." Grissom waggled the piece of paper in the air in her general direction. Pushing off from the door jamb, she took the piece of paper and read it. "Tom Adler." Catherine thought for a moment. "As in the Jane Doe shot as a gang initiation?" "That's the one." "Didn't you wind up the case last week?" Catherine sat down in the chair opposite, crossing her pant-clad legs. Placing the message back on his desk, she asked, "Isn't the kid in juvie?" "Yep." His answer was short, his tone clipped. "Case over. So, what's the problem?" "Sara went and visited the victim at the hospice she has been placed in." Now the other shoe dropped. Grissom was protective of his staff, particularly those that he had personally trained. "Why?" "You tell me and we'll both know. She's become attached to the victim, Cath. I don't know how to get through to her." "Did you try?" The question sounded terrible, even to her own ears, yet she felt it must be asked. Grissom had a tendency to avoid these sort of situations. Grissom gave her a wry look. They both acknowledged his lack of people skills and Catherine would often take on the role of mediator in circumstances which required placating ruffled feathers. "Yes, I tried. Did I succeed? Obviously not." "You're going to have to try again." Catherine was well aware that Sara was not one of those people she ever succeeded with either. "She's not going to be an easy nut to crack." "Huh?" "She's like you, Gris. Work is her life. She hides from people behind the facade of work. When you tell her to walk away from it, it is like asking her to cut off an essential part of herself. You're the best example to her. Tell her how you do it. And don't just tell her you ride roller coasters. It won't cut it with Sara." "Cath, do you think I don't feel anything?" Grissom voiced the comment that had left him questioning how Sara and others viewed him. "What do you mean?" Catherine leaned forward, resting her forearms on the top of the desk, her arms crossed casually "It's a conversation I had with Sara. She accused me of not feeling anything." "Then the answer is no; you hide it well though. But then I know you better than most. Gil, you understand her more than you think you do. Instead of being her boss, her teacher, talk to her." Catherine pushed herself up from the chair and walked to the doorway, stopping when Grissom continued. "I've been trying to. Tom Adler rang because Sara ran out of the hospice, apparently quite upset. I've been unable to get her on her phone or pager. I only get her voice mail." Grissom raised his eyebrows, a silent question in his expression asking her to acknowledge that this was highly unusual for Sara. "Well, she's due to start her shift in twenty-five minutes, so she shouldn't be far away." Catherine placated. Until the time Sara was due to start, they could not assume anything. "Don't you find that strange in itself? The fact that she's not already here?" "This is Sara we are talking about. I find a lot of the things she does strange," Catherine responded before leaving the room. Gil gave a twisted smile at her retreating figure and wondered what Catherine's assessment of his own idiosyncracies were. End Part 2/?