Disclaimer: refer to chapter one.

A/N: Here comes the epilogue, enjoy:) and to Sylvie, terima kasih banyak.

WHITE ROOM

=== Day One Hundreds and Eighty Seven: Understanding ===

304.

Room 304.

I didn't need the receptionist, or one of the uniformed officers to show me the way. I knew the way to the room by heart. Months ago, six agonizingly long months, I had spent seven days in and out of that room.

The lift was pastel pink now. Someone had decided to redecorate the fish tank. I grimaced, pink wasn't exactly my color.

Officer Garth who was standing next to the door nodded as I came closer to the room. The same embossed numbers were still on the door. This was it, the room.

"Do you need me in there Dr. Grissom?" Garth, the new recruit, seemed so eager to help.

I just shook my head, concentrating on my hand that was on the door handle. I felt strangely nervous.

"Are you sure?" The officer asked again.

"Yeah," Jim had debriefed me with the case; there was no danger in there. I'd leave the door open anyway, in case I needed Garth's help. "I'm sure." With those two words I pushed the door open. A strong déjà vu hit me as a room dominated by white colors greeted me. The curtains were still green, but the bed was new.

This time the bed wasn't occupied by Sara, though.

"I'm Gil Grissom; I'm with the LVPD crime lab." I put my kit on the floor and came closer to the bed.

"I know what you do. You don't need to be here. I have confessed. I'm the one who killed Karl."

I looked up; my eyes met with a pair of blue eyes. The eyes were looking so smart and deep yet felt so hollow. "I'm here to collect your fingerprints and…"

"I said I know what you do, just send the officer here and take me to jail." She sat up on the bed, a skinny girl, with a bald head, and strong cheekbones. There still were traces of beauty on her pale features.

I sighed; this was supposed to be Greg's job. Catherine had better have a good reason to have called him to her crime scene before he could finish this job.

"I'm afraid it doesn't work that way, Ma'am." I felt tempted to explain to her the importance of evidence; that her confession alone wouldn't get the DA any sentence. But all I wanted to do was to get out of the room as soon as possible.

I opened my kit; from the corner of my eyes I could see her closing her eyes, tossing her IV-hooked hand in exasperation.

"Fine, swab me, print me, do anything you like." She threw her head on the pillows.

Given the chance, I worked as efficiently as I could, listening to the soothing beeping sound of her heart monitor. I stole a glance, and I knew that she was breathing with great difficulty. Seeing the slow rise and fall of her chest brought back very vivid images in my mind.

Sara. I said her name in my heart. My Sara, lying on the bed, her chest rising and falling as the monitor beeped. I shook my head, willing the image to go away, and reached for a swab.

When I was almost done swabbing underneath her nails, she sat up abruptly, causing me to step back in alarm.

"No struggle." She spoke as if those were two conversational words.

"There was no struggle; you won't find any trace of his skin under my nails." She stared at me, her bony fingers sat atop of my palm.

I continued my job, silently.

"It would be nice if he had struggled." Her eyes lost their focus, probably recalling the incident that had taken place an hour ago at her apartment. I let go of her hand, there was probably no trace left. She had collapsed after the event and the EMT had whisked her away to the hospital as fast as they could.

"I wish he had fought back… I wish… he stopped being so full of understanding." She continued.

After neatly capping the swab, I looked up to her.

"If he had fought, would you have spared his life?"

It took a long minute before she answered, her eyes closed. "No, I wouldn't have." She shook her head, "It was for the better."

"Really?"

"I ran away from him, you know? Across country, alternating between hospitals. I didn't want to be his burden."

I closed my kit and sat on the stool after signaling to officer Garth, who was peeking enthusiastically from the open door, to wait.

"Karl could be so damned headstrong sometimes." She gave me a watery smile. "I don't know which part of the words Brain Cancer he didn't understand. He kept on wanting to take care of me, to be at my side."

"And that was a bad thing?"

"No, not for me. But for him , yes. He deserved something better, someone who could stay with him forever." She ran a hand on her bald head; the wedding band on her skinny finger didn't go unnoticed by me.

"So, you killed Karl because he cared about you?"

"Maybe." There was bitterness in her voice, along with certainty. And yes, when you feel you had no choice but do what you had to do, no jail sentence could fix the damage. I could imagine her, having a therapy session between these white walls. "If he could just have let me go...if he could have just stopped being selfish."

"Caring is selfish?"

"It is, when it harms yourself."

"And ending Karl's life is not?" I kept my tone calm and steady, waiting for her reaction. She stiffened, snapping her head round to look at me.

"I killed him to save him! I didn't want him to see me dying! It would have broken his heart!" She yelled, causing the heart monitor to beep stronger. "It would have devastated him!"

Officer Garth let himself in, probably being alarmed by the girl's yelling. His new and well-polished gun was ready in his hand.

"It's okay Garth, I'm done here." I rose and picked up my kit. The officer glanced nervously at me but let his guard down after a moment.

"You get some rest." I nodded to the frail girl on the bed, the beeping of the monitor now deafening. "Do you want us to get the nurse?"

She shook her head as she lay back on the bed, eyes filling with tears.

"Mr. Grissom…" She called as I got to the door.

I turned around, challenged those sad blue eyes with mine. The monitor had fallen into a quite, steady beat again.

"If I said I loved Karl so much, that I didn't want him to be there to see it happen, to see me wilt and die, inside and outside, would you understand me?"

The light from the window illuminated her feature somehow. Despite no significant physical resemblance between her and Sara, Emily Gauthier, the prime suspect for the murder of Karl Gauthier, had brought my memory back to the love of my life.

Sara, my Sara. My Sara who had run away from me.

…..

No matter how hard I try to fight it off, I'm left with a feeling that, I have to go. I have no idea where I'm going, but I know I have to do this. If I don't, I'm afraid I'll self-destruct, and worse, you'll be there to see it happen.Be safe.

….

"I would," I nodded my head as I slowly closed the door to the room 304. It would be hard to understand the reason behind Emily's crime, but somehow, she had made me understand the reason behind Sara's decision. "I understand."

FIN

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