Moment in Time

By: Emmithar

Rating: T

Disclaimer: You know the drill. I don't own anything.

Summary: Sequel to Only Time. Sara reflects on endless possibilities. Sandle

A/N: Before it is asked, yes, I am thinking of a third fic to this short mini-series. Can't promise ifor when it'll be out. Other than that, enjoy. Reviews make me happy :D

Moment in Time

The quiet ringing was a steady reminder that he wasn't asleep any longer. Even so, he was still caught up in a foggy haze, a place in his mind where he knew he was awake, but desperately wished he wasn't. With a solemn sigh he reached up through the darkened room, fumbling for the receiver.

"Don't answer it."

The warning came from behind him, but it was one he ignored, pushing himself up with one arm. "I have to, I'm on call…"

"They're going to call you in," she whispered, her voice a bit louder this time, "Don't answer it."

Greg ignored her another time, picking up the phone with one hand. He could hear her infuriated sigh as he answered. "Sanders…"

She was moving behind him now, obviously as awake as he was, and clearly upset. "Yeah, I'll be in. Fifteen minutes."

"I told you not to answer it," Sara told him firmly, watching as he rolled out of the bed. She was resting against the headboard now, arms crossed over her chest.

"I don't have the luxury like you do," Greg reminded her, groping for his pants in the darkness. "Laying in bed all day, being waited on hand and foot, sleeping…" the last part was cut off as he yawned, moving now to find a clean shirt.

"Oh yeah, don't forget the morning sickness, the headaches, all the cramps…"

"Okay," Greg cut her off, nodding, "okay, fair deal. But just remember that you're on maternity leave, which means someone has to pick up the slack."

"I can work," Sara argued, huffing slightly. "Grissom just thinks I can't."

"You're seven months pregnant Sara," Greg stressed, "Seven months." He reached over, pulling on one of his shoes. "You should have been on leave a long time ago."

She frowned, only shaking her head as she sunk against the pillows. "I can work," she whispered. In the end she resorted with a sigh, chewing on her lower lip. Even if she could even get out of bed long enough no one from the lab would let her work.

"Where are you going?"

"There's a double out near the land fill, sounds like they've been there for a few days," Greg commented dryly, tying up his last shoe.

"You can't go there," Sara said suddenly, pushing herself up more.

Greg looked at her, frowning. "That's where the bodies are Sara…that's where I have to go."

"You're not going," she told him once again, more firmly this time.

Greg let out a sigh, grabbing his coat. "If you really want, call Ecklie, and complain to him. I need to get going before I'm late."

Sara was quick to follow, moving as fast as she could, being seven months pregnant. "That's a bad part of town Greg," she called after him, coming to a rest in the doorway. "You have no gun, no vest, nothing that's going to protect you. You're not going…" she glanced down, muttering the next part softly. "I don't want you to."

It was enough to stop him, and Greg made his back slowly. He ran his hand across her cheek, running his fingers through her short hair. "I'll be fine," he reassured her quietly.

She blinked, looking back up at him. "You weren't fine the last time."

He let out a sigh, wanting to roll his eyes, but he knew better than to even try. "That was a completely different situation, in a different area. We're working miles away from there…"

"It was supposed to be safe," Sara reminded him, "and you ended up shot. What do you think is going to happen now that you're walking willingly into a bullet ridden, gang ruled junkyard?"

He kissed her hand tenderly, rubbing it between his own. "Everything will be okay. Don't worry…get some rest; I'll let Anna downstairs know that I'm heading out. She'll be just a phone call away."

She let out a sigh, leaning her head against the wall as he walked away. How was she supposed to not worry? Did he honestly expect her to just lounge around while he worked in such a risky area?

"Call me?" she wondered, watching as he paused by the doorway.

He smiled, nodding towards her. "Always."

It had only been months since the incident, and even so Greg was up and walking, talking, joking as though it never had happened. His work was flawless, but even still after the close call he refused to take a gun. It only caused her to worry more.

She moved back over to the bed, first making it with shaky hands before crawling on top of the covers. That night was still vivid in her mind; she and Greg had met up with Brass, outside the storefront, interviewing a suspect. He seemed fine, gentle, suspicious maybe.

Everything had changed so suddenly, a gun flashing before her eyes the scrawny man fished it out of his pants, the sound of gunfire echoing through the empty air. She was on the ground, her hands still stinging from the sudden impact.

Brass was already moving, on top of the suspect. The gun had fallen from his hands, and he was desperately working to get it back, curses and threats being thrown from his lips as he was wrestled to the ground.

But it was Greg that scared her most of all, hardly moving, blood pooling on the cold concrete beneath him…he had pushed her out of the way, had taken a bullet for her. She hadn't been able to move, it should have been her, not Greg…

She closed her eyes, fighting off the nauseating thoughts. She was used to the smell of blood, the smell of decomp, seeing dead bodies…but she couldn't even begin to think of Greg being that way. Instead she buried her head into the pillow, trying to banish the thoughts.

Greg shouldn't be working those cases; Grissom knew that he was unprepared. Just because he was lucky once didn't mean he would always be. And she loved him too much to lose him. She had explained that to Grissom months ago. Why wasn't he listening?

She must have drifted asleep, because next the phone was waking her, and a cold metallic feeling settled in her gut. It had only been four hours…Greg wouldn't call her from the scene, and she knew there was no way possible for the team to clear out a double that quickly. Her first thoughts were to ignore it, maybe it would go away. But on the third ring she snatched it up quickly, answering in a shaky voice.

"Hey," Greg answered back, his voice soft, laced with exhaustion.

"Are you okay?" Sara asked worriedly, propping herself up.

"I'm fine," he reassured her, "Just like I said I would be."

"You finished the scene that quickly?"

"Catherine and Warrick are still out working it," Greg explained lightly, fighting off a yawn. "They sent me back with some samples."

"You're tired," she stated bluntly, resting one hand on her swollen abdomen. "You're coming down with something; you need to take some time off."

"I'm tired because I haven't slept in the last 48 hours Sara," Greg cut her off. "I feel fine other than that."

"You're still going to have to take time off," Sara argued, "You need your rest. If you don't get some sleep you will be sick, then what?"

"I'm going to catch a few hours here," he responded, "We're going to be a while. Besides, why don't you let me do the worrying? My fiancé is home alone, in her third trimester, refusing to get any rest at all because she is constantly worrying about me."

Sara smiled slightly, sinking further back into the pillows. "It's a flaw…I can't help it."

"I know," Greg agreed quietly. The line was quiet for a moment, before a loud yawn broke through. "Get some rest; I'll see you when I get home."

She hung the phone up with a sigh, her eyes closing slightly. Sara wondered vaguely when Greg would come home, and when she would be able to actually see him. After all, he had been saying the same thing for the last several months now.

But as she progressed there were fewer things for her, and more work for LVPD CSI team. She hated seeing him so tired, overworked. Sara herself had overworked on several occasions, only going over her limits twice since being hired on. How close was Greg to going over his limit?

The thought remained with her even as she drifted back into a relaxing sleep, her previous fears now gone, only to be replaced with a new worry. Quickly she reminded herself that she only had three months left to go, three months, and then their lives would return to normal.

At least, that's what she convinced herself.

The End