My Dearest Catherine,

Today the world stood still. Everything and nothing happened in the nothingness that has encapsulated me since Sara's passing. It took many months for me to be able to look around the lab and not expect to see her walking through the door laughing at a joke that Greg was telling or listening to you as the both of you compared case notes.

I take solace in that you will not be receiving this letter. I know how much I hurt you when you found out about Sara and I. You always have been the bravest one of us. I saw the hurt flash in your eyes moments before you congratulated us. To this day I do not know if I will ever be able to ask you for forgiveness. The only thing I can do is try to explain, if not to soothe your wounded soul then to...

Gilbert Grissom set his pen down in mid-sentence. His eyes were shielded by reading glasses and rubbed his hands together to generate some heat. He glanced up at the window and looked out at the brightly shining lights of the city he finally called home. Looking back down he winced at the prospect of the task he set before himself. There was no way to explain his behavior. Not to himself and most assuredly not to Catherine. He did not even know the full reason behind why he was writing this, especially to her.

When he sat down that morning, his mind had been racing with all manner of thoughts. The gnawing ache in his heart nearly consumed him that night. He managed to force himself through the motions but now in the stillness of the morning everything crumbled in. His relationship with Sara had been simple, straightforward, logical. Safe, the voice in his head that sounded surprisingly like Catherine's said. Yes, having a relationship with Sara was safe. The boundaries were well defined, he could keep his personal life separate from his professional life without running the risk of alienating Sara. She understood him like no one else before. Accepted him for what he had to offer. But she was not the only one.

Catherine also knew him, understood that the human element was not something he readily grasped. She was willing to forgive him for not telling her about Eddie all those years ago. Gil looked at the invitation to a performance of "The Nutcracker" that lay on the desk next to his hand.

The simple note written at the bottom of the card caught his eye. "Please come. Mom needs you." Lindsey's handwriting was so similar to her mother's but was also her own. He couldn't let her down. Not this time. He picked the pen up to continue his self imposed penance.

There is no excuse I can offer except to say that I finally raised my head up from the microscope. I bet you never thought that I would do such a thing. The shell that I retreated into after we lost Holly was starting to crumble around me by the time Warrick arrived in the lab wearing a ring on his hand. That same shelter was in complete ruin when Jim was shot. Everything was strained between us thanks to Eckley's interference not to mention the situation that cost you the position that was just starting to settle in around you.

There was never any doubt when Eckley put everyone back that you would be my equal in so far as position was considered. You earned that. You always were and will be my right hand in business. And I hope you will also allow me to be your friend again.

I never did thank you for you help that day, did I? Maybe someday I will be there for you when you need it...

Yours,
Gilbert Grissom

Gil took a deep breath and deliberately penned the last word under his name.

widower

==++~~&~~++==

Morgan placed the letter to the side and hugged her stuffed bear. She could not shake the cold feeling of loneliness that seeped into the room as she read the letter. The handwriting was so unlike her fathers, so controlled and even. No flourish and the language (although she knew little about the subject, she could relate what she just read to some of the books in her parents library that she continually tried to read and understand) was so stilted that it would normally put her to sleep had it not been for her curiosity.

She took the next letter from the pile that was heavier than the last. She stared at the photograph that fell into her lap when she extracted the letter from its envelope. It was a photo taken in what looked like the a school auditorium after a play. Surrounding the couple in the center were parents greeting children still wearing costumes. Morgan traced the loopy handwriting of the the note written on the back with her finger: They say a picture is worth a thousand words.

TBC...