Holding her hand, he asked, "These cases really hit you hard, don't they?"
Looking at her, he had the evidence.
He also had the explanation.
But he didn't like the explanation, and for once he hoped that the evidence was wrong.
As she opened her mouth to speak, he looked away.
He didn't want the bandage. He didn't want her to say yes, because that meant she saw his wound, and was covering it.
Gil needed an excuse, for once in his life, to tamper the evidence. Just change it slightly.
There was no way, that he would ever let the evidence say that he was the source of her drinking.
He had to make the explanation, the evidence point that it was just the rape case, and not him.
"Sara, let me take you home."
Unfortunately, the evidence was always there, and the evidence would never change nor lie.
His mask had slipped, a wound had opened, which he had desperatley tried to fix.
Even robots bleed, and Grissom learnt something.
He would cover his wound, and move on, immerse himself in work, like he always did when something of this caliber happened.
All he was, a person that had been bandaged up to quickly.
He was a box of bandaids.
Summary: He needed an excuse, for once in his life, to tamper the evidence. There was no way he would let it point towards him, that he was the excuse for Sara's drinking.