HOPE

Spoiler: Fannysmakin' and Living Doll. I haven't seen the finale -nor any of this season's last 5 episodes- but I've seen a few videos. This is my take on what could happen after Living Doll.

"Greg, pass me that photo, will you?"

Greg looked up when he heard his name but didn't move.

"The photo?" Warrick repeated, reaching across the table for the picture in Greg's hand.

Greg hesitated. The picture depicted the Sara doll lying on the miniature crime scene, and he felt oddly protective of it.

"Come on, man," Warrick demanded impatiently, and Greg finally handed it over.

It was just as well, Greg realized. He'd been looking at that picture for what felt like hours, and he hadn't been able to get anything out of it. If Warrick thought he could do something with the picture, then he was welcome to it.

Mechanically, Greg picked up a picture of the red car but didn't look at it. Instead, he glanced around.

Nick and Catherine were studying the pictures taken at the miniature killer's place while Warrick examined every piece of evidence related to Sara's kidnapping.

They were in the Layout Room, and they were anxiously trying to find answers as to Sara's whereabouts. By now, each one of them had come up with some theory, only to have it dismissed by the other two.

Patience was running thin.

Greg had tried to contribute ideas, but try as he might, he couldn't come up with anything. He just couldn't concentrate.

His feelings kept interfering.

They didn't hinder him at first. On the contrary; right at the beginning, anger had fueled much of his actions. Like Nick and Warrick, he was just as indignant at the thought that one of their own had become a victim.

But while Nick and Warrick were still angry, gruffly discussing clues among themselves, Greg's own anger had vanished all too quickly, only to be replaced by anguish and a sense of doom.

The problem was that Greg knew all too well what it was like to be at the mercy of an unscrupulous criminal. He knew what it felt like to lose all hope. The memories of his own ordeal kept intruding, making it impossible for him to remain objective.

Right now, all he could think of was that Sara was all alone in the desert, at the mercy of the elements and all kinds of danger. Maybe she was wounded -

Greg's vision suddenly blurred.

He impatiently blinked back the tears. This wasn't helping. His friends were all trying to come up with solutions, and there he was, crying like a baby.

He couldn't stay in this room another minute.

He knew he would betray Sara by leaving the Layout Room, but he couldn't stand being there any longer. There was nothing he could do anyway.

Muttering, 'I'll be right back,' he left the room.

He doubted anyone noticed.

Once in the hallway, Greg found he had nowhere to go. All around him people moved purposefully, while he alone seemed unable to do anything but grieve.

It wasn't until some of the lab technicians started glancing curiously at him that Greg felt compelled to move. He walked aimlessly, or so it seemed to him. But when he looked up, he realized his steps had led him to the one place where all his questions had been answered at one time or another. Grissom's office.

The blinds were down, but there was a light inside, and the door was ajar. Greg peered inside. Grissom was there, staring at something on the desk.

It suddenly dawned on Greg that there was someone who was probably hurting just as much over Sara's disappearance. Just a few hours before, Grissom had revealed that Sara was the only person he'd ever loved.

Not that he said it in so many words; he probably didn't even realize what he was saying until he saw the stunned expressions on his colleagues -and maybe, not even then. At the time he had something more important to think of: Catching Sara's kidnapper.

And they'd caught her, all right.

Unfortunately, Natalie Davis had not yielded any information so far. Grissom had tried to shake a confession out of her but failed.

Now the Miniature Killer was in a detention room in a near-catatonic state (prompting her lawyer to make allegations of police brutality), the boss had retreated into his office, and the only hope to find Sara lay in the hands of people who were too shell-shocked to be of any use.

Greg stared at his boss for just another moment, and then he resolutely retraced his steps. He needed something from the break room.

Greg entered Grissom's office and closed the door behind him. He had a cup of coffee with him -an offering of sorts. He didn't dare interrupt Grissom; he stood by the door, waiting for Grissom to acknowledge his presence.

The Supervisor's attention however, was solely focused on the pictures on his desk. He was studying them one by one -sometimes with a magnifying glass but mostly by sight alone. The only time he looked up was to check something in his computer.

He didn't notice that Greg had there, not even when the young man approached his desk. It wasn't until Greg put the cup of coffee into his line of vision that Grissom finally realized he wasn't alone in the office.

He stared expressionlessly at the coffee.

"I thought you might want some of this," Greg said kindly.

"No," Grissom muttered, turning his attention back to the picture in front of him.

Greg wasn't discouraged; he simply held the cup of coffee in the air, waiting for Grissom to take it.

Grissom impatiently put down the magnifying glass. He was going to say something but he paused as soon as he looked at Greg. He seemed surprised to see the young man there.

Or maybe it was what he saw in Greg's face what made him pause.

Greg had caught a glimpse of his own face in the break room, so he already knew how bad he looked: he was pale and he had dark circles under his eyes. Truth to be told, he looked like he was going to lose it at any moment.

Grissom obviously took pity on him. He silently accepted the cup of coffee and set it on the table.

He reluctantly looked at Greg again.

Greg didn't know exactly what to say.

"I'm going crazy, Grissom," he blurted out. "It's hell for me; for all of us -"

Grissom looked down.

Greg lowered his voice to add, "I can't imagine what it must be like for you to -"

"Greg."

Greg paused. Grissom's expression remained inscrutable but the tone he used was one Greg knew well. It meant that he was busy and didn't have time to spare.

Mostly, it meant that he wanted to be alone.

In other circumstances, Greg would have taken the hint and left. But not this time. He needed to talk. There were things about Sara that he needed to share and, while Grissom would probably not appreciate hearing them, he was the only person in the world who would understand.

Greg gulped down.

"I love her, too," he said quietly.

He waited for Grissom's reaction, but the older man didn't even move. His gaze remained on the pictures on the desk.

"I used to have the biggest crush on her -" Greg added, and this time Grissom did look up. He didn't say anything, though; he only nodded.

"I know," he said softly.

"She knew, too," Greg admitted. "I told her. She was sweet about it," he added with a faint smile. "She said that -"

Greg tried to say more but couldn't. He took a deep breath.

"Anyway," he said in a slightly different tone, "About a year ago I noticed a change in her. She seemed, I don't know -" he paused. He looked at Grissom, "You know how difficult is to convince her that she's pretty?"

Grissom smiled a little and nodded.

"Well, she looked like she knew at last," Greg said, "She looked calm. Content. It looked like she'd found herself a boyfriend, and, well, I was jealous at first," he admitted sheepishly, "'Cause, you know."

Grissom nodded again.

"But then I thought, hey, if she's happy, then I'm happy. 'Cause she's a friend, you know. And friends support each other, no matter what."

Grissom's face remained expressionless throughout Greg's speech. To his credit, he was listening to the young man with all the patience he was capable of.

"You're her mystery man," Greg said suddenly. It wasn't a question, but he did wait until he saw Grissom nod almost imperceptibly.

Greg looked curiously at him.

"Have you told her how you feel about her?"

Grissom opened his mouth but didn't immediately answer.

"She knows," he said simply.

Greg smiled faintly, "You know, it's funny, 'cause a few months ago Nick said it looked like you had got yourself a girlfriend. But we never put two and two together. Some investigators, huh? I thought -"

"Greg," Grissom said again. His patience was running thin.

"Sorry," Greg muttered apologetically. He looked at the pictures on the table. "You've got anything?"

Grissom shook his head.

"Not yet."

"What are you looking for?" Greg asked.

"There were clues in each of the miniatures that Natalie Davis left behind," Grissom said, "When she set out to kill the psychiatrist, there were enough clues -only we didn't find them on time. That's what I'm looking for now."

"Do you think she would leave any clues this time too?"

"It's part of her MO," Grissom replied. He glanced at the pictures on the desk, "I believe there's something in here. Sometimes I feel that the answer's right there in front of me but -" he shook his head tiredly. "I keep missing something."

He sighed and leant back in his chair.

Greg looked worriedly at him. He'd come to Grissom's office in part because the boss had a knack for pointing him into the right direction whenever he was in trouble over an investigation. To hear Grissom admit defeat was scary.

"You need to stay focused, Grissom."

"I know. It's just… I keep thinking of all the mistakes I made in this case."

Greg frowned.

"What mistakes?"

"Ecklie wanted to go public and I didn't let him," Grissom said regretfully, "He offered to get us a profiler and I said we didn't need it…" he shook his head, "I thought I could solve this -"

"You still can," Greg said firmly.

Grissom nodded and resignedly reached for the nearest picture. He paused when he noticed that Greg was still standing there.

"You don't need help?" Greg asked hopefully.

Grissom shook his head.

"Go back to the Layout Room, Greg. This is something I need to do on my own."

"You're wrong."

Grissom's eyebrows lifted in surprise. It wasn't every day that his youngest CSI –or anyone else, for that matter- told him that he was wrong. But he was the kind of person who readily admitted his mistakes, and so he waited for Greg to explain.

"You can't go on like this." Greg said. "You keep looking at the pictures but you don't see anything, right? You can't concentrate," Greg said knowingly, "You know why?" He paused but didn't wait for Grissom's reply. "Because your feelings are doing a number in your head," he said.

Greg picked up one of the pictures at random and placed it before Grissom. It showed the Sara doll lying face-down on the ground.

"See this?" Greg asked. "Every time you look at this picture, you don't see the doll; you see Sara. You're looking at her and thinking how lonely she must feel, how terrified -" he gulped. "You're wondering if she's in pain -"

To Greg's surprise, Grissom's face crumpled. There was no other way to describe it. Grissom put himself together quickly, but for a few seconds he'd let the depth of his pain show.

It was only then that Greg realized the effort that Grissom was making to keep it together.

Greg softened his tone.

"I haven't been objective, either," he said kindly, "I keep tearing up at the mere thought of her. You know how it is."

"Yes," Grissom said softly.

"We can't help her if we go on like this."

"I know."

"We gotta stop thinking of her," Greg said firmly, "We gotta -" he took a deep breath, "We gotta forget this is about Sara -or about us. This," he said, putting a hand on a pile of files, "This is just a case like any other -just another puzzle for us to solve."

Grissom stared at him as if he were seeing him for the first time.

"You're right," he said.

Greg nodded back.

"Ok, then," he said. He unceremoniously wiped his nose with his shirt sleeve and then he looked around, "Anything I can help you with?" He asked briskly.

Grissom tilted his head in his desk direction.

"Take your pick," he said. There were files and pictures spread all over the desk.

Greg sat and picked up a file.

They worked in companionable silence for a while, each following his own line of investigation.

Suddenly, Grissom looked up sharply.

The movement was so abrupt that it immediately caught Greg's attention.

"What?"

"You've got the file on Ernie Dell there?"

"Yeah," Greg said, checking on the pile of files he'd just looked at. "Why?"

"I think I got it." Grissom said in a dazed tone.

Greg glanced at him. There was a different look on Grissom's face now. There was eagerness in there. The excitement of the chase -

But there was something else.

Hope.

THE END

I don't know what it is that Grissom discovered, but I sure hope it leads him to Sara!

BTW, cliff-hangers suck!