Loss of Innocence

by caffeinenut

Sequel to Snap. What happens in the aftermath of the shooting?

Here it is, the much asked for sequel to my story Snap.

Loss of Innocence

Nick Stokes was the first from graveyard shift to react to the gunshot. He had been slowly making his way down the hall, using his Maglite in an attempt to find any trace evidence, such as hair or fibers. He was about to switch to the ALS to look for blood drops when he heard the gunshot from down the hall. His head shot up, startled, and he looked down the hall to the security guards, all of them running out to the balcony that was at the end. Snagging his kit from the floor, Nick took off after them, hoping they wouldn't contaminate the scene to badly before he got there to process.

Warrick, in the stairwell, heard an echo float down to him. Not sure exactly what it was he was hearing, his best guess was that it had been a gunshot, distorted by the acoustics of the stairwell. A gunshot meant another crime scene, and another chance to catch this killer. Or another killer. It was possible, he surmised, that another murderer was conducting his business in this hotel. This was Vegas, after all, and anything was possible. Knowing he wasn't going to get anywhere on these stairs, too many prints to even attempt to isolate anything out of the smudges, he quickly packed up his gear and walked up a half-flight to the door and opened it, looking out into the hallway, seeing the cops all running down the hallway. Making a quick decision, he left his half-processed scene behind and followed the cops to the balcony.

"Was that a gunshot?" Catherine asked and she and Grissom heard the telltale sound filter into the hotel room they were processing.

"It did sound like one," Grissom replied softly. He stopped dusting the furniture in the room for prints and slowly walked to the door of the room, peering out. Brass and O'Riley were halfway down the hall, jogging in the direction Grissom had remembered that Greg had taken off in, and that Sara had followed. Nick was nowhere in sight, and he could sense Warrick standing in the doorway right next to him, just as confused. With all the cops and security around, there should be no guns other than their own pieces. If one was fired, that meant trouble, and quite possible, another crime scene.

He looked back into the room at his partner. "Catherine," he began, but stopped when he heard Nick's shout from down the hall.

"Greg! Sara! Oh, God!"

Without another word to the woman behind him, or thought of the crime scene in that room, Grissom took off down the hall at a dead run, terrified of finding out what was on the balcony, but also terrified of not finding out.

"…give me…"

"What…hell…"

"…talk…me, hon…"

"Is he…"

"Did…shoot…dead?"

They were murmurs, floating around her, only a few words making their way to her ears to be processed by her already overloaded brain, before leaking out again into the dark void around her. Nothing seemed to register to her; nothing made any kind of sense. Just sounds from nameless, faceless people entering the void, attempting to talk to her. She didn't respond.

After finally shouting his surprise and taking a few seconds to take it all in, Nick ran to Greg's prone form, bent down next to a security guard, and took a pulse. Strong. He was alive. Doing a quick inventory of his friend, Nick noted that Greg was just unconscious, with a superficial cut to his neck, most likely caused by the knife in the hand of the man next to him on the ground. The man next to Greg wasn't so lucky. He was obviously dead, a distinct bullet hole in his head. No questions about the cause of death there.

Turing and standing at the same time, Nick looked over to Sara and saw right away that she was in trouble. He could tell, even from a distance, that her eyes were glazed over and she wasn't focusing on anything. She was still standing in the shooting stance, her arms pointed outward, clutching a gun, and shaking slightly. Brass was next to her, trying to get her to respond to him and to give him the gun, but she didn't seem to be hearing him at all. Taking a wide berth, incase he startled her and she pulled the trigger, Nick came up on her other side and spoke softly to her. "Sara? Sara, you can let go now and give Jim the gun." Nothing. "Sara, it's over, honey. It's going to be okay, just give Jim the gun and come with me." Still nothing. Nick looked over at Brass, who stared back, and shrugged. There was fear in his eyes, fear for Sara and for the internal battle she was waging inside herself. Fear that she would lose, and they would lose her forever to the dark place she was in now.

Not ready to give up yet, Nick tried one more track to reach her. "Hey there, Sara. After today, I've decided that I hate baseball, too." Brass looked at Nick again, the fear on his face giving way to confusion, and was about to ask Nick what in the hell he was talking about, when he registered a change in Sara.

Sara blinked and shook her head slightly, turning to where she had heard a very familiar voice come from. Nick's voice. "Nick?" she croaked out softly.

"Yeah, Sara, it's me. It's over now. Why don't you give Jim the gun and lower your arms. They can't be comfortable stuck in that position," Nick said gently, reaching out and placing a hand on her elbow, hoping that by giving her physical contact he could bring her out of her fugue state faster, and also to help quell her shaking.

She loosened her grip on the gun and Brass took it from her, passing it on to O'Riley to place into evidence. As Sara was lowering her arms, Grissom entered the scene, took one look, and walked briskly to Nick. Nick took one look at Grissom and let go of Sara's arm, leaving her to the man who loved her. He turned and slowly walked away, wanting to know if the paramedics were on their way for Greg.

"Sara?" Grissom questioned softly, taking the arm that Nick had let go.

When Sara heard and recognized Grissom's voice, she violently yanked her arm away from him and backed up quickly, backing right into Nick. Nick grabbed her around her waist to keep her from tripping, and felt her entire body tense up. "Easy, Sara," he whispered into her ear. At the sound of his voice, she relaxed visibly, and didn't move away from him. Nick looked at Grissom and could see the fear and confusion on his boss's face, as well as the hurt that was there. Of all the people around, Nick would have thought that the only one of them Sara would have wanted with her was Grissom, and he was very surprised to find that this was not the case. Apparently, Sara wanted to be as far from her boyfriend as was possible.

Trying to appease the hurt in Grissom, Nick said, "She's in deep shock, Gris. She has no idea what's going on and who's here. I think we better get her to the hospital."

"The paramedics are on their way up for Greg," Warrick announced from the doorway to the balcony, Catherine standing next to him, both wearing looks of shock and horror on their faces.

Sara then whispered something so softly that neither Nick nor Grissom was able to make out, though they were both very close to her.

"What was that?" Nick gently prodded her.

"Greg," Sara whispered again, though this time loud enough for Nick and Grissom to hear her. "He went down…I shot him…Greg…" As she spoke, the volume of her voice increased until he was hysterically shouting, everyone on the balcony hearing her. "He went down, didn't get up, couldn't move, I shot him, Greg, I shot Greg…"

Upon hearing this last part, Nick whirled Sara around to face him, taking her face in his hands, running his thumbs gently across her face, feeling the wet tracks and attempting to wipe away the tears that kept coming. "You didn't shoot Greg, Sara," he stated firmly, looking into her wet, brown eyes. "He fell and hit his head. He's not shot." As he stared at her, he saw some of the fog lift from her eyes and he realized he was reaching her in that dark void she'd closed herself into. But before he could continue, Grissom once again reached for Sara's arm and she once again quickly backed away from, breaking Nick's contact with her. She did trip this time, falling hard onto the floor. "Dammit, Grissom," Nick said irritably, stepping between his boss and Sara, looking at her, trying to reach her again.

"C'mon, Gil," Brass said, stepping up the graveyard shift supervisor and leading him away from his colleagues. "Nick got her to respond before, let's let him try it again."

Hurt and angry, Grissom pulled away from Brass and stormed off the balcony, the first time in his life he'd ever walked away from a crime scene.

Greg Sanders awoke in the ambulance on the way to Desert Palms Memorial Hospital. He took in all the tubes coming out from catheters in his arms, the IV bags, the penlight the paramedic shone in his eyes, and looked around for the one thing, the one person, he hoped to see desperately. When he didn't see her, he ignored all the questions the paramedic asked him and instead asked one of his own. "Sara? Is she okay?" in a throaty, weak, voice.

"Sara?" the paramedic questioned.

"Yeah," Greg whispered, swallowing hard and licking his dry lips. "The woman on the balcony with me."

"The one with the gun?"

Greg nodded. "Is she okay?"

"She's in the ambulance behind us," the paramedic, Erik Nelson answered. "She's not hurt, just in shock. It looks like she shot that other guy."

"And saved my life," Greg replied, closing his eyes, images from the balcony running through his head. He opened them up quickly and said, "If you see her before I do, can you tell her I said thank you, that she did the right thing."

"Sure, buddy, sure," Nelson said, more to placate his passenger than anything.

"And tell her Daniel Wright was wrong. It's very important that she knows that, okay. Daniel Wright was wrong," Greg pleaded, halfway sitting up and grabbing at the paramedic's arm.

Nelson, getting ready to placate his charge again, looked right into the man's eyes and realized that whatever he was talking about, was very important, not only to the hurt man, Greg Sanders, but to the woman named Sara as well. Nelson nodded. "I'll find her once we drop you off and give her the message." He eased Greg Sanders back onto the gurney. "Now you lay back down and rest. You've had a rough couple of hours and a good knock to the back of your head. It might be a concussion."

"You promise to tell her right away?" Greg asked softly, not ready to let it go yet.

"I promise. Now, you rest."

Greg sighed and closed his eyes again, slowly slipping back into unconsciousness. Alarms beeped around him and Nelson became frantic in an attempt to uncover what was going on. Then, he saw it on the EEG; Greg Sanders's brain activity was fluctuating. The young man was dying. He yelled up to his partner driving the ambulance to floor it, and then settled into keeping his patient alive.

Nick Stokes sat with Sara Sidle on the curtained-off hospital bed in Desert Palm Memorial's emergency room, holding her hand and trying to get her to talk. After she had tripped and fallen, and Grissom had left, she hadn't said a word, not even to him. A doctor had come in and checked her over and asked a bunch of questions, none of which she had answered. She had just sat on the bed, staring out at nothing, not even acknowledging Nick's presence, let alone the ER doctor's. Nick had answered as many questions as he could, had even tried asking the doctor's questions himself, but had gotten nowhere. She wasn't even responding to him, now.

Once the doctor had left, Nick had joined her on the bed and took her hand in his, briefly wondering when and who would be by to test her for GSR. But what did it matter, really? Everyone knew what had happened. Only she, Greg, and the dead guy had been on that balcony, and she had been the one holding the proverbial smoking gun. Sara had shot someone, Greg was unconscious, and Nick desperately wanted to know what had happened. But the only one able talk wouldn't. Or couldn't.

When he'd first sat down, Nick had tried to put an arm around her shoulders to pull her in close to him, but she'd pulled away, fear flashing across her face to be quickly pushed aside by the blank look that he'd seen on her face when he'd first found her on the balcony. But she'd let him hold her hand, so he'd settled for that, wondering why she was pushing him away. After their emotional talk in the SUV a few days ago (was it really only a few days?), he had figured she'd understood that she could go to him for anything, that he wouldn't turn her away. That she didn't need to be tough around him. That she could ask him to help her if and when she needed it and that he'd not think her weak for asking.

She had pulled away from Grissom, as well, not once, but twice. Why had she pulled away from the man she'd been in love with for most of her adult life when she so obviously needed him? When he had been ready to take her in his arms to comfort her, not caring who saw and what they would say? The first thought that had jumped into Nick's head was that Sara had been afraid of Grissom, but he dismissed that thought as quickly as it had come. No matter what Grissom had put her through, she'd never been afraid of him and he'd never given her reason to be afraid. Be angry with him, yes. Be disappointed with him, yes. Hate him, yes. But be afraid of him? No. But there had been fear in her eyes, Nick could not deny that. Was she afraid for him? Afraid that she might hurt him too? That seemed more plausible to Nick. She had been afraid that she'd shot Greg, so maybe she was afraid that she'd hurt someone else, too. Like Grissom. Like him. Maybe she was afraid to get too close because she was afraid she'd hurt them.

As Nick pondered this, absentmindedly stroking the back of Sara's hand, Brass and Warrick slowly pulled a part of the curtain away and stepped into the closed-off cubicle, Warrick with CSI kit in hand, to check on Sara and Nick. "How's she doing, Nick?" Brass asked, concern in his voice as well as on his face.

Nick shrugged. "About as good as can be expected. She's still in shock, and this," he said, indicating his hand holding hers "is the best I can do. She won't let me touch her anywhere else. She just pulls away in fear."

"Did she tell you what happened out here?" Brass questioned as Warrick knelt down in front of Sara and opened his kit, pulling out a few spray chemicals and litmus paper.

Nick shook his head. "No. She hasn't said anything since we were on the balcony. And you heard all that."

"Have you heard anything about Nick?" Brass asked the CSI.

Nick shook his head. "No. You?" Brass also shook his head no.

Tuning out the other two, Warrick looked up into Sara's bent face, trying to find his friend somewhere in that blank, vacant stare. Nothing. No life, no recognition. It was like the lights were on, but no one was home. "Hey, girl, it's Warrick," he said softly, hoping for a reaction, but knowing deep down he wasn't going to get one. He was right. Frowning deeply, he picked up a spray bottle and explained everything he was about to do to her as if she was hearing him, which he suspected she wasn't. "I need to check your hands for GSR, Sara. I know you know the drill, but I'll go over it anyway. First, I'm going to spray your hands with this." He indicated his spray bottle. "Then I'm going to blot your hands with this paper, okay?" Still no response. "Okay then, you have to let go of Nick's hand while I do this." He was all set to extract her hand from Nick's when Sara pulled it out of her friend's grasp herself and held her hands out to Warrick. Obviously, Warrick realized, she had heard him after all. He quickly performed his GSR test yielding a positive result. Sara had fired a gun, or had been in very close proximity to a fired gun.

"Where's Grissom? He should be here," Nick said, a small hint of anger creeping into his voice as he watched Warrick testing Sara's hands. Sara needed Grissom here, even if she wouldn't let him near her. When she finally came out of shock, and Nick just knew she would because he wouldn't have it any other way, she was going to need Grissom. Grissom should be here. Grissom loved Sara, right? So, he needed to be here for her, even if she thought she didn't want or need him.

"He's still at the Tangiers. Catherine's with him, trying to beat some sense into him." Brass sighed. "I know he won't say or show anything, but he's very upset over what happened." When he saw the positive GSR result, he closed his eyes briefly and blew out a deep breath that he hadn't known he'd been holding. He opened his eyes to meet Nick's dark gaze, fear flashing in his brown eyes. Fear, Brass knew, that mirrored his own.

"But he should still be here. She needs him," Nick stated adamantly.

"You get no argument from me," Brass agreed, "But Grissom doesn't always see things the way we do. Besides, she has you and me and Warrick here."

Warrick, still kneeling in front of their traumatized friend, shook his head. "It's not the same," he said softly. He began to collect his kit after bagging the positive GSR test.

"Yeah," Nick continued. "She and Grissom are together."

Brass didn't even try to act surprised at Nick's news. After all, he'd seen Grissom's reaction to Sara and the note the killer had left for her. And, of course, there was only one reason Gil Grissom would have left the crime scene and been that upset, and that was if he felt like the woman he loved had rejected him. Sara had pushed him away, but seeing her now, and talking with Nick, he realized it wasn't Grissom she was pushing away; it was all of them. "I'm going to go call Catherine and tell her what's going on," Brass said quietly, leaving the two guys to look after Sara.

As he opened the curtain, he almost ran into a paramedic. Brass quickly recognized him as one of the ones who'd taken Greg and grabbed his arm. "Is he okay?" he asked quickly.

Erik Nelson bit his lip, a sure sign to the others that not all was well with Greg. "He's been taken into surgery," he replied, knowing exactly whom Captain Brass was talking about. "He regained consciousness briefly in the ambulance, then blacked out again. He has a subdural hematoma, probably from hitting his head on the concrete of the balcony. The doctors are trying to stop the bleeding right now. I'm sure they'll come and find you when they are done. When he woke up in my ambulance, Greg asked me to give Sara a message from him."

Nick caught the almost imperceptible turn of her head toward the paramedic at the mention of Greg's name. Encouraging the paramedic to continue, he watched Sara as she took in what was being said. The paramedic came over to Sara on the bed and stood in front of her, ducking his head slightly to try to find her face behind the curtain of her dark hair.

"Greg woke up on the way over here. He's in surgery right now because he hurt his head, but I'm sure the doctors are going to do everything they can to make sure he's okay. He said to tell you thank you for saving his life. That you did the right thing. And he said that this was most important. That I was to tell you that Daniel Wright was wrong."

They all heard the small sob escape her, Nick felt her hand squeeze his tightly, and they all saw her use her other hand to wipe at her face. "I want to see Greg," she said in a small, shaky voice.

If Sara had just said that she wanted to see John Lennon right now, Nick would have found some way to make that possible, so thankful he was for her to finally be interacting with them. He gently squeezed her hand back and nodded. "Okay, Sar. Warrick's going to go find out where he is and then we'll go see him, okay?"

Sara nodded. "Right now?" she asked hopefully, sniffing.

"Yeah, right now, girl," Warrick replied, getting up and making his way out of the curtained-off area in search of a doctor and Greg.

"Well, I gotta get back to work now. I hope everything works out okay," the paramedic said, turning to leave.

"Thank you for taking care of him," Sara called after him softly, still staring at the floor.

"You're welcome, Sara," Nelson replied as he walked away.

After a moment of Sara watching, Brass said, "I'm off to call Catherine and fill her in. I'll come find you and Greg when I'm done." He reached out tentatively with his hand, and when she didn't coil away, he gently touched Sara's shoulder. "I'll be back soon, honey." Sara nodded that she'd heard him. Satisfied that Sara was making a little progress, Brass left her to Nick and went in search of a quiet place to call Catherine and fill her and Grissom in.

"Do you think the doctors will let me see him?" she asked, looking up for the first time since she'd been brought into the hospital.

"He's in surgery right now, Sar, but I'm sure they'll let you see him when they're finished fixing his head," Nick said, encouraged by her talking first, not just responding. Maybe it was a sign that she was coming out of shock. "And maybe while they're in there, they can find a reason to why he's so strange."

Nick smiled as Sara made eye contact with him, those dark brown eyes so sad, yet holding a bit of hope. Her mental state seemed to depend upon Greg being okay, so Nick was never more glad to see Warrick return and tell them that Greg was out of surgery and expected to make a full recovery.

Now Nick was the happiest he'd ever been in a while, because that news not only got Sara to smile, albeit slightly, it got her up and off the bed under her own power, hopping from one foot to the other, waiting impatiently for Warrick to give her directions to Greg.

Catherine Willows was angry. She didn't suffer fools lightly, and right now, her friend Gil Grissom, was behaving like the biggest fool of them all. She couldn't believe that he'd just left, just run away when Sara needed him the most. How could the man not see that? Sara had obviously just shot and killed someone. Yes, he was a murderer, but hadn't she once said that she just couldn't do it? That there was no way she could take another's life, even to save her own? And yet she had, most likely it seemed, to save Greg's life. Catherine knew very well what it felt like after taking a life, and she knew what kind of thoughts and fears were running through her co-worker's head. Sara was going to need their help if she was going to get through this, especially Gil. If he walked out on her now, just because his ego was bruised, she'd never recover.

She followed Grissom back to the hotel room they'd been in the middle of processing when the gunshot had resounded down the hallway, and watched from the door as he went back to collecting evidence. He either didn't know she was there, or, more likely, was pretending that she wasn't. Well, she wasn't going to let him get away with that. And, when he didn't even bother to look up as the paramedics rushed by with Greg, followed closely behind with Sara, Catherine's moved beyond being angry to being royally pissed off.

"Gil," she began in the voice that Lindsey lovingly referred to as 'Mom's pissed voice'.

"Not now, Catherine," Grissom interrupted. "Just…not now."

Realizing then that Gil was just too upset to hear anything she had to say clearly, she decided to give him some time before bombarding him with her thoughts on his behavior. She had seen Nick hovering over Sara as she'd been led away, and knew the young man wasn't going to leave her side until Grissom got there, so she wasn't afraid of Sara being alone. Feeling alone was another matter, and one she hoped to remedy shortly, once she'd removed Gil's head from his ass.

She's allowed twenty minutes to pass, silently helping him collect evidence while they waited for the coroner to remove the body. Doc Robbins came personally, having heard what had happened out on the balcony through the grapevine of gossip at the lab. How it had been known so quickly, Catherine didn't ask, but she thanked him for his thoughts. Gil ignored everything the doc said with regard to the balcony, focusing only on the victim in the room. Robbins shot Catherine a look and she nodded her head, communicating that she'd take care of it as soon as he'd left.

The techs wheeled the body of the young woman out of the room, Doc Robbins right behind them. At the door, he turned to Catherine and addressed her under his breath, so Grissom could not hear. "Good luck. I hope you get that head out fast." Catherine chuckled and told Robbins she'd had the same thoughts about Gil's head and it's current proverbial location. And about how it was her job to get it out.

"If you get to the hospital before I do, tell Sara and Greg that I wish them well and will come visit as soon as I can." Then the chief medical examiner left, leaning on his cane as he made his was out of the hotel and to the van that would bring him back to the crime lab and his personal domain, the city morgue.

Once Doc Robbins had left the only people, dead or alive, left in the hotel room were Catherine and Grissom. She let into him then, deciding not to pull any punches. "What the hell is wrong with you, Gil!" she shouted at him.

"Excuse me?" he asked, innocently.

"Oh, stop it! I don't buy that act, and you know it! What is wrong with you!"

"I don't know what you mean, Catherine. I figure that there were a lot of CSIs on that balcony; so some had to return to this crime scene and finish here. I chose to be one of them," Grissom informed her, looking away and slowly packing up all the evidence he'd collected.

"Bullshit!" Catherine yelled at him. "The biggest load I've ever heard!" She was so furious that her chest was heaving as she breathed, up and down, the anger rolling off her in waves. "You ran out on her, plain and simple!"

"Catherine," Grissom warned, still looking away.

"No, don't you 'Catherine' me," she mimicked. "There is no excuse for what you did."

He whirled around then and Catherine was pleased to note that he was angry, as angry as she was. Maybe they'd finally make some headway. "You saw what happened in there. What she did. She ran from me first. Not once, but twice!" His tone had started out calm, just relaying the facts, but by the end, it had risen and was dripping with anger.

Good, Catherine thought. Now we're getting somewhere. Which was what she said to him aloud five seconds later.

"She obviously doesn't want me with her!" he yelled back, barely acknowledging what she's said. "She didn't pull away from Nick!"

"Are you jealous?" Catherine asked cautiously.

He ignored her completely, continuing with his own train of though as if he was alone in the room. "I mean, he's good enough to hold her hand, but me? I'm not good enough for her, never was. I foolishly believed her when she said I was wrong, when she said she'd never leave, never push me out of her life. Never stop loving me." Catherine watched as Grissom seemed to crumble before her. She had always known that Gil cared deeply for Sara, that he probably even loved her, but to actually see it in his face, to actually see how much and how deep that love ran, humbled her. Yes, he was hurt by Sara's actions on the balcony. Yes, he was angry. But mostly, he was sad, a deep, profound sadness that Catherine found horrible to watch.

"Gil," she said softly, coming over to him and placing a hand on his arm. "I don't think that's it at all. I don't think she's stopped loving you." He turned to her then, and seeing that she'd gained his full attention now, she continued on. "If anything, I think that it's because she loves you so much that she pulled away from you. I think that she's afraid of hurting you, too. You saw her reaction when she thought she shot Greg. Do you have any idea how much she loves the little guy? As much as she loves you. A different kind of love, Gil, but love just the same. Isn't it the tiniest bit possible that she's afraid of losing your love, afraid that you'll push her away from you now and that she'll lose you like she thought she'd lost Greg?"

"But I didn't push her away. She pushed me away," she said petulantly.

"Oh for Christ's sake, Gil," Catherine said grandly, rolling her eyes. "Stop acting like a spoiled child who didn't get their way. My god, sometimes you can be more infuriating than Lindsey."

"Catherine," Grissom warned. "She doesn't want me. She made that quite clear. It's over."

Deciding to try a different track, since this one wasn't working, Catherine asked. "Do you love her?"

"Yes," Grissom replied without any hesitation on his part. Good for him, she thought proudly.

"Then get your pasty pale ass to the hospital right now to be with her!" she ordered.

"She doesn't want me with her," he said quietly, slowly giving up the fight with the blonde.

"Sara doesn't know what she wants right now. She's scared, she probably feels alone, that no one will understand. She's scared you'll turn your back on her, maybe even hate her for taking someone else's life."

"I could never do that," he said.

"Then go to her and tell her that," Catherine said, exasperated.

"She pushed me away," Grissom reminded her. But there was no malice behind his words. He wasn't even stating a simple fact. He was saying it as a lover who didn't know how to reach out to his severely traumatized partner.

"Gil, listen to me," Catherine said forcefully, taking both his arms now in hers and making him face her. "Listen to me. You love Sara. There's no doubt in that on your part. She loves you. I'm sure of that. She wouldn't have stuck around as long as she has, wouldn't have let you put her through so much if she didn't. So, when someone you love, who loves you back just as much, pushes you away, you don't run. You stand there in front of them and refuse to move. When they start to run away, you get in front of them and refuse to move. You let them know that no matter what horrible ordeal they've been through, that you're not moving, not an inch. They may yell at you, not talk to you at all, even try to shove you out of the way, but you stand your ground. That's what loving someone is, what being in a relationship is, Gil. That you'll be there for them, no matter what they say or do. You protect the other one, even from themselves if necessary. Sara needs you to do that for her right now, to protect her from herself and all the fears and dark thoughts running through her head. She's pushing you away because she's afraid you'll push her away after what she just did. She's pushing first, thinking it won't hurt as much then when you do leave her behind. Don't let it work. Don't let her push you away when all she really wants is to grab a hold of you, cuddle inside you, and hear you say that you're there for her, that everything is going to be okay."

Gil stood there for a time, not looking at Catherine anymore, but not walking away, either. Catherine could almost see him processing what she'd just said in that brain of his, the mind that only Sara seemed comfortable trying to get into. Or able to get into. Her phone chirped and she glanced out it out of habit more than anything, and recognizing Brass's number, answered it. She was silent for moment then said, "Oh, god. I hope he's okay. And Sara?" Some more quiet. As she listened, she watched as Grissom went back to packing up his CS kit. She finished her conversation with Brass by saying, "Yeah, soon. Later, Jim." And she hung up, hoping Gil would ask how Sara was. But he said nothing for a long while, finishing up his kit and turning to the others'. She followed him around, collecting Warrick's stuff, then Nick's. He walked to the balcony, Catherine trailing, intent on getting Greg's and Sara's CS kits, when he realized they couldn't. Day shift was on the balcony, going over the scene. His eyes were drawn directly to the dead man with the bullet hole between the eyes and he just knew what he had to do.

Finally, he spoke, softly and with a hint of sadness in his voice. "She's afraid of a lot more than me leaving her, I think." Catherine remained silent, waiting for more. She was not disappointed. "I need to go to the hospital."

"I'll drive," she announced, leading him to the SUV.

"Do you want to be alone with him for a while?" Nick asked Sara outside of Greg's hospital room. Sara nodded in response. "Okay. Warrick and I are gonna get some coffee. We'll be back soon." He once again squeezed Sara's hand in support, then let go, Warrick doing the same with her other hand. Then they turned and walked away, leaving the last part up to Sara herself.

Taking a deep breath, Sara pushed open the door to Greg's room and quickly entered, before she lost her nerve. His hospital room was dim, the only light coming from a small lamp on the stand next to his bed. She squinted, making out his form covered by a blue blanket, propped up in front of some pillows. He had catheters in both his arms, linked to tubes and hooked up to different bags, giving him different medications. A trach tube still remained down his throat, keeping up the supply of oxygen, and would be removed when and if he woke up. A large, square bandage covered the area just above his left ear and dipped down around the back of his head, protecting the area where the incision had been made in his head to fix his brain. Another bandage covered part of Greg's neck, the part that had been cut by Daniel Wright's knife. Sara bit her lip worriedly, and sat in the chair next to Greg's bed, taking one pale, hand in hers, relieved that it was still warm. He wasn't dead. Yet.

"I was so afraid," Sara stated softly to Greg's unconscious form. "I didn't know what to do, and then I did, and I was afraid to do it. I was afraid I'd kill you, instead." She sniffed, and wiped away the tears that were forming in her eyes. "I could have killed you!" she cried, her voice rising. "I could still kill you or any of the others at any time!" She was hysterically shouting now, jumping up from the chair and quickly making her way to the door, tears streaming down her face, not paying any attention to what was going on, just wanting, needing to get out of there. She had almost reached where the door would have been when she smacked into something tall and hard. She backpedaled, trying to get her bearings, but couldn't see through all the tears.

"Sara," the tall hard mass in the doorway said. Sara recognized the voice instantly. Grissom. "Sara," the voice, Grissom, said again. "It's okay. You don't have to be afraid."

"Get away from me!" she yelled at him, backing up some more.

"Sara," Grissom tried again.

"No!" she continued to yell. "Go away!"

"No, Sara," Grissom said softly, walking farther into Greg's hospital room. "I'm not going anywhere. What are you afraid of?"

"Please, Gil," Sara pleaded now, using his given name for the first time away from his townhouse. "Please, just go."

"No," Grissom responded simply, walking forward. "What are you so afraid of?"

With that, Sara seemed to give up. Brass and Catherine were crowding the doorway, Nick and Warrick looking over their shoulders. Greg was still unconscious in his hospital bed, and Grissom stood at the foot of his bed, hands at his sides, as Sara, halfway between him and Greg, just seemed to crumple to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest, head bent down onto her knees, sobbing loudly now, deep, heart-wrenching sobs that caused other eyes to become wet as well.

Grissom knelt down in front of Sara and placed his hands on her shoulders. She flinched, but didn't push him away or move away herself. "Sara," Grissom said softly. "Look at me." She didn't. "Look at me!" he said more forcefully and this time she complied. Grissom took in her messy hair, her red and swollen eyes, her tear-streaked face, and smiled lovingly at her. Even as upset as she was, she was still beautiful. He moved his hands from her shoulders to her face, trapping her into his gaze. "Sara, do you trust me?" he asked her.

"With my heart and my life," she replied quietly, without hesitation.

"Then you have to trust that I know what I'm doing and saying. And I'm saying that I trust you with my heart and my life, as well. Please, honey, tell me what you're so afraid of."

"I…I killed…I killed him," she stuttered out. "I…murdered…him. Just like…just like she…she murdered him…and…and….and I'll murder…murder you…"

And then it all suddenly clicked for Gil Grissom. He thought they'd dealt with that, that he'd assuaged her fears when he told her he didn't believe in the murder gene. He honestly didn't believe in one, but apparently Sara still did. He grabbed her then, pulling her tightly against his chest, rocking her back and forth, crying with her a little. "You're not her, Sara. You could never physically harm me. After all I put you through, you never once slapped me or tripped me, or did anything to harm me. Though I gave you every reason in the book to justify you taking a swing at me. But you never did. For the longest time I was afraid to trust you with my heart. But my life? I've never been afraid to trust you with that. Even after you told me what you'd gone through, even after you told me your deepest, darkest fear, I was never afraid of you. Of loving you, once upon a time, yes. But afraid of you? Never."

He felt her respond by unwrapping her arms that had remained around her knees, even in his death grip on her, and snaking them around his neck. He even felt her try to burrow deeper into his body, and then he knew she was accepting what he was saying and that they'd work through it. Together. He stood up, taking her with him, and when he felt her fall against him, he kept one arm around her back, bent his body a little and hooked one around her knees, and picked her up, holding her as close as he could. Her arms remained locked around his neck and she buried her face in the crook between his left shoulder and neck.

"Hey, Greg, wake up and get better, soon," Grissom said quietly to the young man. "We really need you awake right now."

Shifting Sara a little he turned around and made his way to the door, for the first time noticing the other members of his team, and Brass, standing there. They moved aside as he came by and let him walk down the hall, Nick falling in just behind him, saying something about driving them home.

As Grissom, carrying Sara, and Nick made their way down the brightly lit hallway, they were surprised to see Sofia Curtis and Conrad Ecklie walking toward them from the other direction. Frowning slightly, Grissom shifted Sara again and stopped, waiting for the police detective and assistant lab supervisor to reach him. He could feel Sara's tears, could feel her trembling, and hoped this unavoidable conversation would be over quickly; he needed to get her home.

Nick stopped at Grissom's right side and glanced over at his supervisor and the friend he had in his arms. He followed Grissom's gaze and saw Sofia and Ecklie, and new that this wasn't going to end well. Getting ready for a fight, he steadied himself, standing his ground. He was not going to let them hurt Sara right now. He wasn't. They needed to talk to her, he knew that, but not right now. If she was up to it, maybe tomorrow. But right now, what she really needed was to go home and sleep, and hopefully, she'd be able to talk tomorrow.

Grissom was extremely touched by Nick's show of support towards him, and Sara. And then he felt the rest of his team coming up around them and he smiled inwardly. They were all here to protect Sara. They all loved Sara. Now, if only he could get Sara to see how much they all loved her. Deciding to beat Ecklie to the punch, Grissom said, "Hello, Conrad. Fancy meeting you here."

Ecklie stopped not two feet from Grissom, hand at his sides, a disapproving look on his face. "You know why I'm here, Gil," he replied. "I need to bring Sidle down to the station to have a little chat about what happened out on the balcony at the Tangiers."

"Greg's going to live, by the way, I'm sure he'll appreciate your concern," Grissom retorted, in no mood to play with Ecklie this morning. It had been too trying a night, and all he wanted to do was get Sara home, tuck her into bed, climb in behind her, wrap his arms around her, and hold on tight until she was ready to talk. "And, as you can see, Sara's not up to answering any questions right now. So, if you'll excuse us." Grissom tried to walk around Ecklie, but he and Sofia blocked his way.

"Gil," Ecklie warned.

"Not right now, Conrad. I know she needs to talk to you, but not right now."

"Gil," Sofia tried soothingly, "the sooner we get this started, the sooner we can clear her of a wrongful shooting…"

"Does she look like she's ready to talk right now," Grissom demanded angrily, clutching Sara more tightly. He knew she was awake, could feel her eyelashes against his neck when she blinked, but as to whether she was listening to what was being said around her, or even if she was aware that anyone was around her, was anyone's guess.

"Gil, the only witness we have who can talk right now is Sara," Sofia placated. "We really need to speak with her about what happened."

"I can tell you what happened," Nick exploded angrily. "The guy had Greg at gunpoint, Sara walked in, saw Greg's life was in danger, tried to get the guy to drop the knife, he didn't, so she shot him to save Greg's life, Greg hit his head and needed surgery, and Sara freaked out about killing someone for the first time, and now she…"

"Nick," Grissom cut him off, turning slightly to look at the younger CSI. "I appreciate you wanting to help, but right now isn't the time to get into an argument about this." Grissom turned back to Ecklie. "Look, Conrad, at least let me get her home, get her some clean clothes and some food into her, and then I'll bring her to the lab so we can all chat."

"What? And give you time to concoct a story to protect her again? No way, Gil. If it was a bad shoot, I don't want to give you any time to hide it; I want Sidle to suffer the consequences this time. I warned you she was a loose cannon with a gun," Ecklie stated, shaking his head angrily. When he saw Catherine whip out her cell phone and place a call he asked, "What are you doing, Catherine?"

"I'm calling a lawyer," she stated matter of factly.

"Oh, so you agree that Sidle's in a lot of legal trouble?" he asked, smirking.

"No," Catherine responded sweetly. "I just want to know how long she has to wait before she sues your ass for wrongful termination and defamation of character."

At that, Ecklie paled slightly and indicated that Catherine should hang up. "Okay, okay, maybe I'm being a little hasty here." He turned to Grissom. "Promise to have her at the lab in six hours?"

"Ten," Grissom countered, knowing that Sara would still be sleeping in six hours, even if he had to give her a sleeping pill to do it.

"Eight," Ecklie shot back, not wanting to give in to Grissom so quickly. When he saw Grissom nod, he turned around and walked away, trying to save as much face as he could.

After a moment of silence, Sofia asked Catherine, "So, who were you really calling?"

Catherine smiled widely. "My daughter. She's number 1 on speed dial."

Once Nick had helped Grissom get Sara home, the older man thanked Nick and sent him on his way with promises to call if they needed anything, or if Sara either got better or worse. As he was leaving, Nick glanced at Sara curled up where Grissom had placed her on the couch, saw that she was back to a near catatonic state, and frowned. Grissom squeezed his shoulder, part in understanding, part in sympathy, and shooed him out, leaving him alone to care for Sara.

First, Grissom checked on her, and seeing that she hadn't moved, quickly made his way upstairs to the bedroom. Turning on the light, he smiled at the sight he beheld. He'd left for work first last night (was it really only last night?), Sara deciding that she'd rather sleep in a little more than get to work an hour early. Grissom remembered that she'd been putting in a lot of overtime on the grisly Hannibal Lecter style murder, and the murdered little girl, Kasey, before that, so he was only mildly surprised when she'd opted to stay in bed when he'd awoken her. But, of course, that meant the bed didn't get made. Always a stickler, Grissom insisted on making the bed before they left for work. Sara never did, and, in fact, always asked him why he did it.

"Gil, it's not like anyone else is gonna see it," she always teased him. "Unless you have something to tell me."

Knowing she was kidding on that front, he just smiled and said, "But I'll know I didn't make the bed."

"We're just going to mess it up again later," she always countered. "Why make more work?"

"Because," he always replied, "I was taught to always make my bed. So I always do."

She would just shrug and bend to help him. It was always the same conversation, word for word. Making the bed together had become a ritual for them, the words as much a part of that as the physical act of tucking in the sheets and smoothing out the quilt. But, on the days when she left after him, he'd come home and find the blankets haphazardly thrown around. Sara was a wild sleeper, often prone to nightmares, and he knew that if he wasn't there to hold on to her, she'd flail about and make a mess of the bedcovers.

Like she apparently had the other day. Bending down and fixing them so they covered most of the bed, leaving a small part open to place Sara in shortly, Grissom thought for the first time that maybe making the bed every day wasn't such a must. Sara was always conforming to his rituals; maybe it was time he stopped being so set in his ways and follow one of hers. He then went to the dresser and pulled out two pairs of pajamas, both his, and placed them on the bed. One was his favorite pair, a loud, obnoxious, Hawaiian style blue and white shirt and matching blue bottoms. The other was one of Sara's favorites, worn red plaid flannels. He had no idea why she loved this pair the most, but she often wore them on slightly chilly days, or when she went to bed before him.

He quietly made his way back downstairs and found Sara in the exact same position he'd left her in. His heart aching for her, he bent down by her head and placed a soft kiss on her forehead, and, not expecting a response, was startled to get one. Sara reached out with one hand and brushed it against his cheek, sliding her palm down to cup the side of his neck.

"Hey there, you with me?" he asked softly. She nodded, looking directly into his blue eyes. "Okay, then. Let's get you upstairs and into bed so you can get some rest. It's been a very long night." Sara nodded again and sat up, placing her feet on the ground. Grissom quickly stood, and reached out with his hands to help her to her feet. She grabbed on and he pulled her up and to him, slowly guiding her up the stairs, one arm around her shoulder, the other holding one of her hands. He was very worried; normally Sara would not have allowed him to take care of her like this, no matter how upset she was. She was way too independent to ever let him lead her into bed like this, unless sleep wasn't exactly the intended outcome.

Once they'd made it into the bedroom, he sat her on the bed and handed her the pajamas he'd picked out for her. She stared at them briefly, and then looked up at him in confusion. "Yes, I know they're mine, but you wear them more than I do." Her confused gaze turned to a smile, albeit a sad, tired one, and Grissom felt his stomach jump into his throat. She was not okay, and he had no idea how to help her. He wasn't even sure where to start. He'd thought that giving her the pajamas might make her talk to him, maybe tell him why she loved them so much, but no such luck. He grabbed his pajamas and began to change into them, surreptitiously watching her out of the corner of his eye. She saw her start to remove her top, then her arms dropped bonelessly to her sides and she let out a deep sigh of defeat. Fixing his pajamas, Grissom came over to her and took her arms, lifting them into the air. She was too tired to protest, and, he realized, too tired to even undress herself. So Grissom did it for her, removing her hospital garb and replacing it with his red plaid pajamas. Then, he lay her down on the bed and covered her up. Next, he turned out the light and joined her, laying on his side and wrapping an arm around her. After a heartbeat, Sara turned on her side and backed up into him, wiggling in and sighing contentedly when Grissom tightened his hold. After a few long minutes in which Grissom thought that Sara had fallen asleep, he leaned in to the back of her neck and gave it a quick peck.

"They smell like you." It was said so softly that Grissom wasn't sure he'd heard it at first.

"Huh?" he asked.

"These pajamas. They really smell like you, that's why I like them so much." She paused to yawn, and then continued, "When you're not here, it's like going to bed with you anyway."

"Well, wear them whenever you want. You look much better in them than I do, anyway."

Sara turned to face him, and in the dark, had to squint to make out his face. But she did. Meeting his eyes she asked bravely, "It's all going to be okay, right?"

First, leaning in and kissing her softly on the lips, then pulling her into his chest, Grissom replied, "It's all going to be fine."

Sara sat waiting in an uncomfortable chrome and vinyl chair outside Ecklie's office. Ecklie had wanted to do this in an interrogation room at the police station, but Grissom had put his foot down, saying that the only way he'd let them talk to her was in the privacy of one of their offices, where no one could 'accidentally' listen in. Grissom knew things were going to come up, things like her past, that Sara didn't want the entire Las Vegas Crime Lab and Police Department to know. Some people were going to know, but Grissom wanted to control how many.

Grissom sat beside her in silence, holding her hand in support. She knew why he'd suggested Ecklie's office, rather than an interrogation room, and she loved him deeply for it. After last night, the things he said and how he'd taken care of her, she had no idea how she could have thought he'd turn his back on her. She was ashamed that she'd thought that, and wanted desperately to make it up to him. Sara knew she'd deeply hurt his feelings when she'd pushed him away, and had tried to explain last night when he'd interrupted her and told her that she didn't need to. That he understood. She'd cried then, Grissom holding her close, eventually falling asleep wrapped up in his arms.

Sara was pulled out of her thoughts by Conrad Ecklie asking her to come in to his office. Grissom, never letting go of her hand, came as well. Ecklie started to protest but Sara stopped him. "I only do this willingly if he comes too." Giving in, Ecklie stepped aside and let both enter his office. There were two chairs behind Ecklie's desk, one empty and the other occupied by Sofia. Brass sat in a chair opposite Sofia, while two other chairs remained empty to Brass's right. Sara sat in one, Grissom the other, still holding hands, and Ecklie shut the door and sat in his chair.

"I'm your union rep on this one, Sara," Brass explained. "I'm here to make sure anything they ask you is legit."

Sara nodded her understanding and asked, "What do you want to know?"

"Did you shoot the man known as Daniel Wright?" Ecklie asked, deciding not to beat around the bush.

"Yes," Sara replied evenly, staring right at Ecklie.

"Why?"

"He was going to kill Greg." Sara's voice remained calm, her gaze unwavering.

"How did you know that?" Ecklie continued.

"Because he said so. Then he started to cut Greg's neck with his knife." Still in control.

"Did you warn him before you fired?" Ecklie wanted to know.

Sara paused, trying to remember. "I…I don't…"

"You don't remember?" Ecklie prompted.

Sara shook her head. "No. It all happened so fast…" Her voice began to waver. "He had the knife to Greg's neck…there was blood on his neck…he was saying some things to me…and I just pulled…"

"So you didn't warn him before you fired." Ecklie made it a statement of fact, not a question.

"I don't know," Sara admitted in a small voice.

They all let Ecklie's and Sara's statements sink in, the implications becoming clear. If Sara hadn't warned Daniel Wright before firing, it could be ruled an unjust shoot, and Sara would most likely lose her job and career. Grissom glanced over at Sara, seeing her closed eyes, and knew she was trying desperately to keep her emotions in check and the tears at bay. Her only hope was that Greg woke up soon and was able to tell everyone that Sara warned Wright before she pulled that trigger.

"You said he said some things to you," Sofia broke the dark silence. "What kinds of things?"

"Nothingimportant," Sara rushed out a little too loudly.

"We need to know everything that happened out there," Sofia tried again.

"Sara, there may be something he said that would justify shooting him," Brass pointed out.

Sara just shook her head and looked down at the floor, praying the tears remained behind her eyes. If they started to fall, she wasn't sure she'd be able to stop them, and she did not want to cry in front of Ecklie and Sofia. In front of Grissom, that was okay. Even in front of Jim. But not Ecklie and Sofia.

"Sara, you can tell us," Grissom said softly, squeezing her hand and staring at her. "You're safe here."

"Am I?" she choked out, abruptly looking up at him. "Can I trust them with The Secret, too?"

"You say that, The Secret, like it has capital letters," Ecklie observed. When Sara remained silent, her gaze returning to her lap, Ecklie said angrily, "Look, we can do this just as easily with an arrest warrant and in an interrogation room…"

Sofia put out an arm and stopped Ecklie's rant. "We can come back to that, Sara. Obviously, what he said is very hard for you and we need to earn your trust before we go there. So let's talk about something else first. I understand that you knew the…knew Daniel Wright before your time here in Vegas."

Sara looked up at Sofia, conveying her thanks for stopping Ecklie and for choosing a different line of questioning. Sara knew that she'd have to tell them about her past, but she just wasn't ready to yet, not until she knew they weren't going to use that information against her, crucify her for killing Daniel Wright. "Yes. I knew him from my time at the San Francisco Crime Lab. I was working a serial murder case, and Daniel Wright was an FBI psychologist assigned to help us profile the killer."

"But Daniel Wright…"

"Turned out to be the killer. I know. Irony can be funny on someone else, but it's a bitch when it bites you in the ass."

"So what happened?" Sofia prompted.

Sara shrugged. "We figured out who it was, caught him, and he escaped while in transport. And then disappeared."

"Until he turned up in Vegas?" Ecklie asked.

"Yeah. Until then."

"Why Vegas? Was it just convenient, or was it because you were here?" Sofia asked.

"Because I was here," Sara replied, not wanting to give anything away.

"Were you the one to catch him?" Ecklie asked.

Sara nodded and rubbed her face with her free hand, her other still in Grissom's grasp. And there it was going to say, if she had anything to say about it. "I figured out it was him. The police actually captured him."

"How'd you know it was him?" Ecklie pressed.

"It was the ballpoint pen he used to write his notes with. It was a specialty made ink, found only in one type of pen. And expensive brand from France, called a Foinoit. Looks like an old-fashioned feather pen. Then I got a flash of one of these pens sitting on the desk in Wright's office and I just…knew." Sara shrugged. "That, and his portrait of Marie Antoinette and Louis the VI over the desk in his office."

"Decapitation?" Sofia asked.

Sara nodded. "That's how he killed his victims."

"So he came to Vegas to kill you?" Ecklie asked.

"No." Sara took a deep breath, steadying herself for what was to come. "He came here to see if I'd kill him."

Her statement was met with dead silence as Ecklie, Sofia, Brass, and Grissom shared looks of confusion.

"Can you explain that one, please?" Ecklie asked.

They all watched as Sara seemed to fold in on herself at that moment. She brought her legs up, bending her knees and placing her heels on the edge of the chair. She wrapped an arm around her legs and tucked her head in tightly. She started to shake a little, and Grissom squeezed her hand in an attempt to calm her down. It didn't work.

"Sara, why did he want to see if you'd kill him?" Ecklie asked, voice rising in annoyance. Sara remained silent. "Sara!" Ecklie practically shouted. "Answer the damned question!"

"Ecklie," Brass warned dangerously, as Grissom turned to Sara to try to get her to respond.

"Sara, did it have something to do with what he said to you on that balcony?" Sofia asked gently.

Sara's small shakes turned into violent tremors, and the tears cascaded down her cheeks. They could all hear her sobs now, and Sofia immediately backed off to wait for Sara to calm herself, or for Grissom to calm her, before continuing. Something terrible had happened on that balcony besides the death of a man and Greg Sanders's injury; that was now apparent by Sara's reaction. What that something was was anyone's guess, but Sofia knew that unless Sara told them the whole story, Ecklie was not going to let this go, and would turn her over to the wolves at internal affairs. Even after hearing the full story, he still might, but she and Brass might be able to help. If they knew the whole story.

Conrad Ecklie, apparently, did not know when to back off. Or he didn't care. He straightened his already straight tie and leaned over his desk to get closer to Sara. "Does this have something to do with this secret you're holding out on?" When Sara didn't respond, he hounded more. "What is it, huh? What could he possibly have over you, what secret does he know about you, Sidle, that he could use against you? What would you kill someone too keep us from knowing?"

"That's enough, Ecklie!" Brass screamed at the taller man, jumping up in his seat, arm swinging, ready to punch the assistant lab director, decorum or no decorum. But Sara's shouted answer surprised him and his fist stopped halfway on its journey to Ecklie's nose.

"My mother killed my father!" Sara shouted, jumping up and bolting behind her chair, her back to everyone else in the room. She had shouted loud enough for the entire lab to have heard her, she knew it and so did everyone else, but at that moment, she really didn't care. She just had to end it, to get him to stop pushing, to make it all go away. "He wanted to know if murder was genetic," she finished, more quietly than her statement from a moment before.

"Well, apparently it is," Ecklie sneered.

Grissom was out of his chair and around the back of it to grab Sara before his movements could be registered by anyone else in the room. He stood in front of her and firmly grabbed her shoulders with his hands, trying to get her to look at him, but she had completely shut down. He wouldn't have hesitated to punch the daylights out of Ecklie himself, if he hadn't been so afraid of what would happen to Sara afterwards. So he left that to Jim, who's fist made good contact with Ecklie's cheek with a loud crack. Loud enough to stop Archie, Hodges, and Jacquie, who were walking by, mumbling their theories about what had happened out on that balcony. They listened for a moment, and where there was no more sound, they moved on, now theorizing who'd finally just punched Ecklie, placing bets.

Ecklie landed hard on his backside in an undignified heap following Brass's prizefighting punch. He stared up in amazement at the smaller police detective, his mouth forming a surprised 'o', no words able to convey what he was feeling right now. But Brass, apparently, had a few for him.

"You sick, twisted, weasely bastard," Brass began. "You inconsiderate, unfeeling, dehumanizing little prick. How the hell did you get put in charge? How many asses did you have to kiss to be where you are? Don't you care about anything other than being alpha dog and stomping all over other people?"

"Jim," Grissom pleaded, looking up from Sara and locking gazes with his friend. "I think maybe we should stop for now and continue this later. With someone else."

Finding his voice again Ecklie protested, "But I'm the Assistant Lab Director. This falls under my purview. It's my job to determine the outcome of situations such as this."

"And you do it so objectively, don't you," Sofia said sarcastically, speaking up. She turned to Grissom to continue. "I agree, Gil. Why don't you take Sara somewhere quiet while I get another impartial party to hear what happened. You let me know when she's ready to continue."

"Thanks, Sofia," Grissom said softly, and, taking Sara's hand, led her out of Ecklie's office and down the hall to his own.

Sara started to come around to find herself on the couch in Grissom's office, a cool washcloth on her head and Grissom's hand stroking her cheek. He was sitting on the floor in front of the couch, staring at her, moving his hand absently up and down the side of her face. Sara closed her eyes to ward off the tears she could feel coming. She didn't deserve this man. He'd done nothing but give her everything the last few days, and what had she given in return? Nothing.

"Hey there, don't shut down on me again," Grissom admonished gently.

She opened her eyes, banished the tears, and asked in a small voice, "Did that really happen in Ecklie's office?"

Grissom nodded. "I'm afraid so, honey. But it's all okay. I promise."

"How's it all okay? I shouted it out. The whole lab must have heard me. And now Ecklie's got major ammo to use against me. And I shot and killed someone. And if internal affairs gets involved…Gris, I don't remember warning him," Sara said, breathing heavily, grabbing his arm in panic.

Grissom just smiled at her, a knowing smile that told her that he had some good news that she didn't know yet. Unable to keep it from her for long, Grissom said happily. "Greg woke up a little while ago. Sofia, Brass, and Undersherrif McKean went to go pay him a visit. He remembered everything. He told them all that Wright said and did on the balcony."

The only thing Sara heard was 'Greg woke up'. She sat up and asked Grissom, "Greg's awake?"

"Yes, he did."

Sara nodded. "That's a…"

"Relief?" Grissom supplied.

Sara shook her head. "I was going to say miracle."

Choosing not to comment on Sara's statement, and not entirely sure if it was because he agreed with her or thought miracle was the wrong word, Grissom heaved himself up off the floor and joined her on the couch, draping an arm around her shoulders, and rubbing his thumb on his other hand across her thigh. "Would you like me to drive you over to the hospital so you can see Greg?"

"How long was I out of it for?" Sara asked instead of answering.

"About five hours," Grissom replied gently. "That talk with Ecklie, it took its toll on you. And you weren't really recovered from what happened. You just seemed to shut down in there. I brought you here so you could rest quietly and recover."

"I'm still not recovered," Sara said softly.

"I know. And I'll help in whatever way you need me to," Grissom stated firmly.

Sara nodded. "Can you take me home now?" she asked, averting her gaze.

Grissom was confused by Sara's request. He had thought that the first thing she'd want to do would be to run over to the hospital and make sure he was telling the truth that Greg was okay. The fact that she didn't want to scared him. When she'd been in shock at the hospital, Nick had told him on the ride over to the townhouse the previous day, that the only time they'd got a response out of her was when the paramedic had mentioned Greg. She'd fallen apart visiting Greg. She'd saved Greg's life. She held a deep affection for the younger man, and Grissom was very surprised that she didn't want to see him.

"Don't you want to go see Greg," he treaded carefully.

"No," Sara replied definitively.

"Why not?" he pressed, sensing that there was more and that he needed to press her now, or she might never get better.

"I just don't, okay?" Sara said, annoyed, still keeping her eyes cast downward. "Can we just leave it an go home?"

"No," Grissom told her, trying to get her to look at him. "Not until you talk to me and tell me why you won't go see your best friend."

"Because he doesn't want to see me!" she practically shouted out at him.

"Of course he does," a voice said from the open doorway. Both Sara and Grissom jumped at the voice, and looked up to see who the intruder was. Nick was standing in the doorway, a confused expression on his face. "Greg wants to see you, Sara. It's all he keeps asking about. 'Is Sara here yet? When's Sara coming?' The guy can't wait for you to walk through his door. Why would you think he wouldn't want you there?"

Sara pulled her knees up to her chest in what Grissom now knew to be her ultimate self-protection gesture and shrugged. "I could have killed him. He should hate me now."

"You saved his life before," Nick stated firmly, coming into the room and kneeling down in front of Sara. "The guy loves you still."

Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Sara placed her feet back on the floor and smiled slightly at Nick. "He really wants me to come?" There was no denying the small squeak of hope in her voice, and when Nick nodded affirmatively, Sara's smile widened. "I guess now is as good a time as any."

Sending Nick a look of thanks, Grissom took her hand and stood up with her. "Come on, I'll drive you over."

Warrick wandered the halls looking for Grissom. Shift had started a while ago for the graveyard team and the supervisor was nowhere to be found. No team meeting had been called for the assignments to be handed out. In fact, no one had seen Grissom since his and Sara's little pow-wow with Ecklie. Rumors were abounding the entire lab, mostly spread by Hodges, about what had been said in that meeting. Most of them Warrick dismissed as false gossip, fabricated and used by Hodges to attempt to elevate himself in the eyes of the others. But there was one that nagged at Warrick. When he first heard it, he didn't believe it; it just seemed too farfetched. Yet, he couldn't get it out of his head, and while it was stuck there as he walked the halls, his mind worked on possible theories. And he came to conclusion that this particular rumor might be true. It certainly explained a lot about Sara and her actions during domestic violence cases. Perhaps her childhood had been filled with violence and abuse, but to have one parent kill the other? Unlikely, yes, since this was the first he was hearing about it in six years of knowing Sara. But possible? Sara, he had learned early on, was a very private person, and this was certainly something she wouldn't share, even with her closest friends. This rumor could be true.

Out of the corner of his eye, the tall CSI caught sight of Catherine and Nick huddled together over the table in the break room. Changing directions rapidly, Warrick made his way to them, and sat heavily in a chair next to Catherine, sighing deeply. "Have either of you seen Gris?" he asked. "It's assignment time and I can't find him."

"He took Sara to go visit Greg," Nick informed him. He paused, wanting to say more, wanting to ask Warrick what rumors he'd recently heard, but was unsure how to bring them up. Nick knew that, with the possible exception of Grissom, he was probably the only other person in the entire lab that knew some of Sara's terrible past. He hoped that the rumors would quiet down before Sara returned; he did not want too many people to start to ask her about them and damage her already fragile state.

"What is it, Nick?" Warrick asked, sensing his friend was holding back.

"Have you heard some of these rumors around the lab about Sara?" he asked cautiously.

Warrick nodded. "Yeah. Some. Most I don't believe. It's just Hodges trying to look superior again. But some…well, they could explain quite a bit."

Catherine agreed. "Yeah, they could. Nicky and I were just discussing some of the more…disturbing…of them."

"You mean the one where her mother kills her father?" Warrick questioned. When the other two nodded he continued. "That one may have some merit. Maybe not completely true, but there is something dark and violent in Sara's past. Otherwise, why would she go off the deep end so often when it comes to domestic violence cases?"

"I know," Catherine said, scrunching up her face in thought. "But it just seems so out there."

Nick looked away and didn't respond, hoping his face wouldn't give him away. Unfortunately, he'd never been a very good liar, and his lack of response as well as the haunted look in his eyes gave him away.

"Nicky?" Catherine asked gently. "Do you know something about this?"

Nick closed his eyes and nodded briefly, silently asking Sara's forgiveness for giving away one of her secrets. "Yeah. I do know that her father was physically abusive. She's admitted that much to me. But the rest…I just don't know."

The three sat in silence for a few minutes, digesting what Nick had just said, before Catherine changed the subject. "Well, since Grissom isn't here, I'll hand out the assignment. There's only one right now, a hit and run out in Henderson. You guys wanna take this one?"

Nick and Warrick both nodded, and standing up, Warrick took the sheet of paper with the address and pertinent information out of Catherine's hand. "Sure. It'll give us something to do." He turned to Nick. "Meet you at the car?"

Nick nodded. "Yeah. Just gotta grab my kit." After Warrick left, Nick asked, "Cath? Do you think she's going to be okay after this?"

Catherine could see it in Nick's eyes that he wanted desperately for her to tell her yes, that Sara would be fine and back to normal in no time. The problem was, she couldn't lie to him, not even to protect his feelings. There was no way for them to know what would happen to Sara now, how she'd react and deal with this. Chances are that she wouldn't emotionally recover at all. She had once stated adamantly that she could never take a life, and now she had. The effects of that decision would be with Sara for the rest of her life. She just hoped that Sara would turn to them for help, not lock it all away inside her, or they might lose her forever.

"I don't know, Nicky. I don't know," Catherine said sadly.

Warrick drove to 2184 Red Mill Road in Henderson in record time. Both he and Nick were silent the entire ride to the scene, not sure what to say or what to do, both preoccupied with thoughts of Sara and Greg. They were excited by the fact that Greg was awake and seemed to be doing well, but that excitement was lessened by the fact that Sara was not. And neither knew what to do to help her. Nick wasn't sure if telling Sara about his own past abuse would help her or hurt her more. And Warrick didn't know what it was like to be in a home where you were afraid. His grandmother was a wonderful and loving person, and Warrick had enjoyed his home life, despite the fact he had no father and his mother had passed when he was very young.

Warrick pulled the Denali up behind the unmarked police car that belonged to Detective Vega and both he and Nick slowly left the sanctuary of the SUV for the unknown crime scene. They each removed a CSI kit from the trunk and made their way over to the blocked off area about 50 feet ahead of them. Detective Vega was waiting, notebook in hand. The two men stopped in front of him, glancing around briefly and noting about 10 other cops, a crowd of on-lookers, and one dead person lying in the middle of the road.

"Alex Hanson, age 35," Detective Vega began, indicating the dead man in the street. "Was crossing the street, according to an eye-witness. He was hit by a big SUV, a Ford Explorer, maybe black or navy blue. The SUV was going too fast for the eyewitness to get a plate number. That's him over there." He pointed to an older man in a red windbreaker, holding the leash of a large dog, standing off to the side with two uniformed cops. "Harold Chambers, age 56. Was out walking his dog and saw the whole thing."

"Okay, thanks," Nick replied. "I'll go talk to the witness."

"And I'll start with the body," Warrick finished, the two men moving off in opposite directions like the practiced partners they were.

"Excuse me, Sir?" Nick said as he walked up to the witness. "I'm Nick Stokes with the Las Vegas Crime Lab. I understand that you saw the hit and run. What can you tell me about it?"

The man shrugged. "No much, really. I was out walking Jack here. We were coming down the sidewalk from that direction," he said, pointing over his shoulder, "when I saw this man crossing the street. And then this big SUV comes barreling down the street from the same direction I was and hits him. Boom. Didn't even try to stop or swerve or anything. Just ran him right down and kept going."

"What kind of SUV?" Nick asked, checking his story against the one he'd told Detective Vega.

"Looked like a Ford Explorer. Or maybe an Expedition," Harold Chambers replied.

"And the color?" Nick pressed.

"It's hard to know for sure, since it's night and the color of the SUV was dark. But I'd say either black or navy."

"And where'd the SUV go to after hitting the man?"

"It continued down the street and then turned on the left just ahead, Walnut Street."

"And you know that's Walnut Street?" Nick asked.

"Yeah, sure. That's my street."

Nick nodded. "Did you get any numbers off the license plate?"

The man shook his head. "Sorry, no. I'm a 56-year-old man. My eyesight ain't as good as it used to be. I can't read those small numbers without my glasses. And they are at home."

"Did you see the driver?"

"No. Tinted windows."

"And, did you know the victim, Alex Hanson?" Nick asked.

"No, not really. He lives…lived…down the block from me, but we've never spoken," Chambers replied, shifting his feet slightly, almost nervously.

Picking up on Chambers's nervousness, Nick asked, "Do you know anyone who might have a reason to harm the victim?"

Chambers shook his head. "No, but maybe. I think he was recently paroled from prison, but I don't know what for. Could have some enemies. I don't know for sure since he only moved to the neighborhood a few months ago."

"Okay, well, thank you for your time, Mr. Chambers." Nick reached into a pocket on his vest and pulled out his card, handing it to the man. "If you remember anything else, please call me."

Nick moved off to help Warrick with the overall scene while they waited for the coroner to come and let them move the body. Warrick was examining the street around the body, occasionally snapping a few photos and then picking something up off the road. "Hey, Nick," he whispered quietly, indicating that Nick should bend down to him. When Nick complied, Warrick continued, "Take some crowd shots, just in case."

Nodding in agreement, Nick set up to look like he was taking overall shots of the scene while he snuck in crowd shots, in case the killer had decided to return to the scene and see first hand what he had done. As Nick continued to take photographs, and Warrick bagged some pieces of broken headlights, David Phillips arrived to examine the body before it could be moved.

"Hi, Warrick, Nick," he greeted. "How are Sara and Greg?"

"They're both doing okay, thanks for asking," Nick replied.

As he bent down, David asked, "Will you tell them next time you see them that I hope they're okay and that everything works out for them?"

"Sure, David. I'm sure they appreciate your concern," Warrick assured him.

"And tell Sara, about those rumors…well, tell her I'm not listening to them, okay?"

"Okay. Neither are we," Warrick lied to make the assistant medical examiner feel better. "Now, what can you tell us about the body?"

David began his examination and was silent for a few minutes, sticking a thermometer into the body and checking for wounds. Then he sat back on his heels and spoke. "Certainly looks like blunt force trauma, caused by a large vehicle. Both his knees are broken, indicating something rammed him hard. Liver temp is 97.7 degrees, so he's been dead less than an hour, most likely."

"There's a tire tread mark across his abdomen," Warrick pointed out.

"Yeah, I noticed that. Probably run over as well." David picked up the man's head and examined the back. "See here, trauma to the occipital lobe. Hit his head hard when he fell. Probably cause of death, but I won't know for sure until I get him back to the morgue for a better look."

"Okay, thanks, David. We'll see you there," Warrick said, getting up to go tell Nick the assistant coroner's findings.

Nick, who had finished taking photos of the crowd, had begun asking anyone if they knew the victim. A few had said yes, so these he had pulled aside and questioned them. The two CSIs met away from everyone else at the scene to share their findings. After Warrick filled Nick in on what David had found, Nick told Warrick about his conversation with the witness, Harold Chambers, and the other few people he had spoken to.

"It seems that Alex Hanson had moved into the neighborhood about three months ago. He lived over on Walnut Street, number 457. No one knew him that well and nobody wanted to know him. Apparently, according to Gloria Pashden, the neighborhood gossip, he was a convicted sex offender just recently paroled," Nick said.

"Well, I guess there's motive for someone," Warrick stated blandly.

"Yeah, the entire neighborhood."

"You know, I'm not going to bite. Well, not unless you want me to," Greg joked from his hospital bed.

Smiling at the younger man's bright enthusiasm, despite being bedridden, Sara left the safe haven of the hospital room doorway and took a seat once again in the chair next to Greg's bed. "I'm going to chock up your flirtatious comments to your overabundance of good drugs and not reprimand you," she replied.

"Yeah," Greg said dreamily, "I love the drug fairies here."

"I guess I don't have to ask you how you're feeling then, huh?" Sara asked, seriousness creeping into her voice, despite her promise to herself not to bring her gloomy cloud with her.

"I'm doing alright," Greg told her, reaching out for her hand. "The drugs help, but seeing you helps more." When their eyes finally made contact he continued. "When I woke up and you weren't here…I was worried about you. How are you?"

Sara was all set and ready to give Greg her standard 'I'm fine' answer when she stopped herself. She wasn't fine. She knew that. If their positions, their lives, had been reversed, she knew there was no way Greg would have been fine, and she would have called him on it. Just like he would call her on it now, if she pretended everything was all hunky-dory. And for once, Sara didn't want to pretend everything was okay. She didn't know if that meant she was getting better emotionally, but she did know it meant she was beginning to trust the people around her. Her friends.

"No," she replied.

"Me neither," Greg agreed, taking Sara's hand and squeezing it gently.

"I could have killed you out there," Sara said softly, squeezing back.

"But you didn't," Greg reminded her. "See, I'm right here. And before you know it, I'll be back to annoying you to no end and you'll wish you had killed me."

"No, Greg, never," Sara said quickly, looking at him. "Please don't say that."

"Sorry," Greg winced, realizing how what he had just said would have sounded like to her. "I didn't mean it like that. I was really only trying to lighten the mood here and get us back to where we used to be."

"I don't know if we can ever go back to that," Sara admitted sadly.

"Why not?"

Sara frowned, not sure how to explain all that she was feeling, but knowing she had to try, as the first step to getting better and putting this whole horrible ordeal behind her. "You know so much about me now, things I'd never wanted anyone to know. And now that you know, you can't un-know. It'll change how you look at me, how you treat me, how you act around me…"

"Uh, not gonna happen," Greg interrupted.

"You say that now…" Sara began again, but was once again interrupted by Greg.

"And I mean it." Greg tried to sit up better, and when he couldn't, Sara jumped up and immediately began to help him rearrange himself on the bed. Once he was comfortable, she sat back down and Greg continued before Sara could get a word in. "See. That's why. Your first thought is to help me feel better. You jumped up right away to help me, even though you feel very uncomfortable in my presence right now. You care about me, about everyone around you, before you care about yourself. You have such a big heart. I don't know if it's because of what happened to you when you were a kid, or in spite of it, but I don't care either way. I just accept it. I just accept you. Just like you just accept me. Because that's what friends do." He paused to gauge her reaction, trying to decide if he should continue, or hold off and tell her the rest later. Sara didn't seem to be too upset, and she seemed to be listening and accepting what he was telling her, so he pushed forward. "Listening to what that guy said about your past, Sar, it just makes me admire you even more than I did before. Most people would have given up, but not you. You just keep going forward, never quitting. I don't know why you chose to take a chance on me and be my friend and teacher, but I'm glad you did. You've taught me so much."

"That goes both ways, Greg," Sara told him. They lapsed into silence for a while after that, but it was a comfortable silence, on in which Greg scooted over and Sara, being careful of his IV lines, joined him on the small hospital bed. He flipped on the TV and they channel surfed for a few moments, finally finding a movie they both loved and settling down to watch it.

Halfway through When Harry Met Sally, Greg broke the silence by saying, "I was scared."

"That I'd kill you?" Sara asked, afraid to hear the answer.

"No," Greg said without hesitating. "Scared that you wouldn't be able to shoot him and that he'd kill me."

"Isn't that the same thing as me killing you?"

"How'd you figure that?"

Licking her lips, she sat up and faced him, finally ready to have this talk. "If I did nothing and he'd killed you, I'd be just as responsible for your death as he would. I would have killed you because I didn't kill him." A few tears slipped down her cheeks and Greg wiped them away, shaking his head.

"No, Sara. It would not have been your fault."

"I was scared, too," Sara admitted.

"What were you scared of?" Greg asked.

"Lots of things, really. I was scared that I'd hit you instead of him. I was scared he'd kill you anyway. I was scared of shooting and killing him. And I…"

"What?" Greg encouraged gently, grabbing her hands.

"I was scared that killing him would turn me into my mother," Sara whispered.

"But that didn't happen, did it?" Greg questioned.

"How do you know?" Sara asked, still whispering.

"Because I know you. I was never scared of you. Just of what would happen to you. Of what he was saying and how it would affect you," Greg told her. "And of course, of him. But never you."

"But maybe he's right," Sara said, voice rising. "Maybe murder is genetic and I just proved his hypothesis…"

"But his experiment was flawed, Sara," Greg broke in, trying to get her to see what he saw, the wrongness in Daniel Wright's words. When she looked at him in confusion, he knew he had her full attention and plowed forward. "Why do you think he took me hostage?"

"Because you were there," Sara replied automatically. "And you made an easy target."

"No," Greg corrected. "He took me hostage to control you. In actuality, it could have been anyone else, too, but I was just there, so I was used for convenience sake. But it was to control you. He knew you'd never just kill him, or even kill him to save yourself. But he knew you would to save someone else. And that's where the flaw was. He fixed the experiment to give him a favorable outcome."

"But I still murdered him!" Sara burst out, crying openly now.

"No, you didn't," Greg tried to calm her. "Don't you see? It's not murder if you do it to save someone else's life. You killed him because he would have killed me if you hadn't. You saved me, Sara. But you didn't murder him." Greg was crying now himself, crying because he now saw how much pain his best friend was in, and it tore him up inside. He was crying for her.

Finally seeing and understanding what Greg had been trying to tell her, Sara nodded her head, letting the tears fall. She reached out and enveloped him in a hug, which he returned, each wrapping their arms around the other. Greg pulled Sara down onto the bed with him, she resting her head on his shoulder, he resting his head on hers, and they let their tears mix as they took comfort in each other.

"Sara," Greg said gently, "I can tell you're not ready yet to talk about what happened to you as a kid, and that's okay. I just want you to know that I'm here if you ever need to talk about it. I'm sorry that I had to tell Sofia, and Brass, and McKean, but they had to know about your state of mind on that balcony. I know it's not something you wanted a whole lotta people to know…"

"It's okay, Greg. It was bound to come out sometime," Sara reassured him, yawning. "I just hope it doesn't change how people see me."

"It will with some people, but not with the people that matter, like us, your teammates and friends," Greg told her, yawning as well. "I'm tired."

"Me, too," Sara mumbled sleepily. "I should go and let you get some rest."

"No, stay. I'll sleep better with you here right now," Greg said hopefully. Truth be told, he was a little frightened of sleeping, afraid nightmares would come and there would be no one here to help him through it when he woke up in a cold sweat. He knew it was selfish of him to want Sara to stay; she would be facing her own nightmares, but he really didn't want to be alone.

"'Kay," Sara yawned again. "Night." She snuggled into Greg's side and drifted off. Smiling happily, knowing that this was the closest he'd ever get to sleeping with Sara, he decided to take it, remember it, and use it to impress everyone at the lab, and fell asleep just as quickly as she did.

Grissom was attempting to analyze the evidence, hoping to give some clue as to the name of Daniel Wright's last victim, but his mind kept wandering to Sara. He'd dropped her off at the hospital to visit with Greg with instructions to call him to come pick her up when she was done. That had been over two hours ago, and she still hadn't called. He wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not. It could be good, meaning she was finally talking about what had happened and that Greg was helping her through it. Or it could be bad, and Sara was having trouble facing all of it and was running away from him again. He could call her and see how she was doing, but he was afraid that she would think he was smothering her, or that he didn't trust her to actually want to get better. It was a catch-22, and he, having little to no experience in relationships, wasn't sure which side of the fence to land on. Realizing he wasn't going to get anywhere with the evidence until he solved his personal Sara problem, he packed everything back up and went in search of his relationship guru, Catherine Willows.

He found her pouring over missing persons reports on the computer. She was alone, sitting in the dark, the only illumination coming from the computer screen, giving her face an almost angelic glow. Her reddish-blonde hair was swept up into a messy ponytail, her black-rimmed glasses perched on her nose, and an intense gaze fixed on the computer screen. He was almost loath to disturb her, but he knew he had to if he was going to ever be able to get back to work.

"Something I can do for you, Gil?" Catherine asked, gaze not leaving the monitor.

"How'd you know I was here?" he asked, not really ready to pour out his woes yet.

"You're the only person who doesn't make noise when they're coming in," she responded.

"Where are Nick and Warrick?" he asked, putting off the inevitable.

"A call came in while you were taking Sara to see Greg. A hit and run out on Red Mill Road in Henderson. I sent them out to give them something to focus on and to keep them out of my hair," she told him. "Vega's at the scene. Nothing to report yet."

"And what are you doing?" he asked, coming into the room and looking over her shoulder at the computer screen.

"Running through missing persons to see if I can ID our vic from the hotel last night," she said. "I know it's a long shot, but I need to do something."

Grissom nodded in understanding. "I know. I've been looking at the evidence we collected, but I can't seem to focus on it," he admitted.

"Why not?" Catherine asked, clicking to the next report.

Grissom sighed heavily and took a seat next to his friend. "It's Sara," he said by way of explanation.

"That could mean a lot of things, Gil," Catherine said, slightly exasperated. She turned in her seat to face him. "What about her has you so…unfocused?"

"I dropped her off at the hospital over two hours ago and she hasn't called me yet to come and get her," he almost complained.

Catherine smiled at his slightly childlike whining. "Gil, ever think that that's maybe a good thing? Like she's finally talking to someone, even if it is Greg?"

"Yeah, I did," he replied, removing his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "But then I think it's a bad thing. I see her running out on Greg when things get too emotional, and then wandering the streets because she's afraid to call me to come and get her." He paused, not sure how to phrase the next part. Catherine, sensing there was more, remained silent and let him gather his thoughts. She knew this was a new experience for him, both being in a very committed relationship and talking about it with someone else, so she let him take his time to speak his mind. Finally, he continued his thoughts. "I keep hoping she's still talking to Greg. And, at first, I'm happy about that. Then I get angry."

"Why?" Catherine prodded.

Grissom frowned and continued. "Because she's talking to Greg and not me. Why isn't she talking to me about this? Doesn't she trust me enough to be comfortable talking with me about what happened? We're…together…and I still don't know what happened to her out there!" he ended in a slightly frustrated tone.

"You weren't there, Gil," Catherine said, and seeing his hurt expression she elaborated, "I mean physically. You weren't out there on that balcony with her. Greg was. Maybe she needs to talk to him. He may not understand it all, but he was there. He knows what happened. There may be things she's not ready to explain yet about what happened, and won't have to because Greg was there and knows what happened."

Grissom nodded in understanding, but before he could thank Catherine for setting his mind at ease, his cell phone rang. He didn't even bother to check the caller ID and said, "Sara?" by way of greeting.

"No, Dr. Grissom, this is Dr. McClellan. Greg Sanders is my patient."

"Is everything okay?" Grissom asked quickly. Catherine looked at him in alarm and started to ask a question, but he waved her silent; he didn't want to miss anything the doctor had to say.

"Mr. Sanders is fine. Actually, he asked me to call you. It seems he and his visitor. Ms. Sidle, fell asleep, and she woke up very upset and he's having trouble keeping her calm. She keeps asking for you," Dr. McClellan informed him.

"Tell her I'll be right there. Thanks, Doctor." Grissom hung up and explained things to Catherine. "I'll be back in a little while. Page me if you need help before then." He stared at the missing person report on her computer screen. "If you don't find anything here, check through the evidence we collected. If there isn't anything there as well, add this to the fish board and help Nick and Warrick." With that, he left her alone to continue her search and started to make his way to the parking lot to pick up his car when Sofia, Brass, and Ecklie stopped him.

"Gil," Ecklie spat out, catching the other man's attention.

"Ecklie," Grissom replied with disdain.

"We're here to give you an update on Sidle's situation," Ecklie explained. "She's under review right now. We've spoken to the shooting board, and I have Bronson and Dawson from day shift going over all the evidence."

"They're going to talk to Greg later today," Sofia added. "And they'll probably want to talk to Sara as well."

"When do they want us here?" Grissom asked, not pleased that he was going to have to let Sara go through another interrogation so soon.

Sofia hesitated in answering, her blue eyes shining apologetically. Ecklie, not apologetic in the least, responded first. "You can't be with her this time, Gil."

Grissom's eyes narrowed in anger. He was not willing to let Sara talk to anyone if he couldn't be there to protect her. He was well aware that, for some unknown reason, Ecklie had a grudge against Sara. He knew that refusing to fire her after she yelled at him and Catherine had something to do with it, but it wasn't the full story. Ecklie'd had it in for Sara before that, otherwise he wouldn't have been so harsh with her and gotten so much pleasure out of suspending her.

"I'll sit in with her during her…interview," Brass said, trying to put Grissom's mind at ease. Having known Grissom for a long time, he could usually pick up on his moods fairly quickly, and knew that right now, Grissom was a hair away from loosing it on Ecklie. That was certainly something neither he nor Sara could afford right now. "I won't let anything happen to her."

Grissom nodded unhappily, his face openly showing his displeasure. "Okay. I don't like it, but I trust you, Jim. But," he said firmly, turning to Ecklie, "if she becomes upset, I want it to stop immediately until she's ready. There will be no bullying her of any kind."

"I promise, Gil. I'll make sure she's well taken care of and not pushed," Brass assured him.

Nodding, Grissom placed his hand on his friend's shoulder and squeezed it in appreciation. Brass had a soft spot for Sara, Grissom knew. He always seemed to be checking on her a little more than the others at crime scenes, making sure she was okay and not to upset by the nature of the crime. Grissom also knew, because Sara had admitted to him, albeit a little reluctantly, that Brass had once tried to confront her about her drinking, but she had blown him and it off, saying she was fine, there was no problem. Looking back, she had grudgingly admitted, she wished she hadn't, then maybe she would never have gotten into as deep a mess as she had. Maybe just a breakfast here or there with Brass, a little opening up and talking, might have saved her a world of trouble, and would have kept her feelings of isolation to a minimum.

Grissom knew Brass would protect her in that interview. But that didn't mean he still had to like the fact that he wouldn't be allowed in there.

"I'm heading over to the hospital now to get her. If she's up to it, maybe we should do this as soon as possible?" he suggested.

"She's at the hospital? Is she okay?" Brass immediately asked, concern radiating off of him like a father.

"Yes. She just went to visit Greg," Grissom informed them.

"You let her talk to Sanders?" Ecklie asked, voice rising. "Why would you let her do that?"

"How is that any of your business, Conrad?" Grissom demanded. He was not going to talk about Sara's personal demons with him if he didn't have to.

"The investigation is still open," Sofia answered for Ecklie, not wanting the other man's delight to shine forth. "Greg and Sara shouldn't be speaking to each other. It might be construed as collaborating their stories and tampering with evidence, especially if they talk about what happened."

"By letting them get together, you may just have ruined both their careers," Ecklie said happily. "Thank you, Gil. You just saved me having to find a reason to get rid of Sidle."