Disclaimer: Not mine. If they were, Sara would have been waiting outside the. . . oops, never mind. That was almost a spoiler.

"Of all left after a life has been lived, only love and music endure"- A bad paraphrase of the motto of the McDonald piper clan.

* * * * * *

~Solace~

Gil Grissom opened the door of his office slowly. He thought he was hearing things, but now that his office door was open, he could clearly hear the sound of music wafting down from the lab. It was Greg's night off, so the music actually fit the definition of "music", but he still had no idea who it could be.

Of course, that wasn't entirely true. Now that he thought about it, he knew exactly who it was. He was nothing if not an expert at following the evidence, and the evidence pointed him in a very clear direction.

The case was the starting point of course. The life of a criminalist revolved around the case. And this one particularly grisly. Today they had found the third body, raped, mutilated and horribly killed. He saw the look in her eyes as the processed the scene. Everyone else had remarked on how well she was bearing up, but he knew otherwise. He could see.

He saw a part of her die every time they processed such a scene. Worse, he saw the bit of her that curled into a ball and screamed out silently to be comforted, though the part of her that was left over would never ask, nor betray any such feelings.

And so instead she sang. She sang, because if she did not sing, it would all overcome her. She hummed as she searched the missing persons data base for a clue, muttered lyrics as she waited for results to print out from the computer, and now, in the solitude of the lab, with only the company of the DNA extraction equipment, she sang full voiced. He knew she found both strength and release in singing, as he found them in his bugs and books and roller coasters. He knew that, just as he did, she had trouble depending on other people, no matter how much the little girl inside her screamed. Those screams pained him. It was like somehow, only he could hear them. He had tried to quiet them once, told her it was only empathy, warned her to find a distraction.

But he had known that she could no more silence those voices than he could silence the ones that plagued him. It was the burden to be borne by those who investigated crimes. From his doorway, he could see her silhouette through the glass windows of the lab. She was bent over a microscope, hands moving back and forth between the various slides she had scattered around her, the focus of the scope, and the cup of coffee within an arms reach of her. He watched her sit up, straightening her shoulders, and wondered absently how long it had been since she had last moved. Her song began again, and now he was able to make out the words.

He stood frozen in the hallway. Never had he heard her sing like that. Her voice was laden with such emotion, that he thought his heart would break on its behalf. For a fleeting moment, he was grateful he couldn't see her face. He sensed another presence beside him, but was unable to acknowledge the person who stood beside him, so caught up he was in her voice.

"You know who she means don't you." It wasn't a question, and he knew it. Before he could answer, the presence was gone, leaving him alone again, with her song as his only company.

He took a deep breath, and opened the door to the lab. She turned around the instant his hand touched the door, and for a moment, he was sure she would be angry with him for breaking her peace. But then he saw the look in her eyes.

And he heard.