A/N: So. I do plan to write through all of season eight – even after Sara is gone – until 8x17, "For Gedda". But this story will be shorter, and I'll do less episodes. I just don't like watching CSI without Sara, and especially without GSR. I'll explain my plan for season nine when we get there. But anyway, on with it!

Spoilers for episode 8x1, Dead Doll.

I shouldn't be smiling

Heat stroke, dehydration, a fractured arm and bruised ribs. I shouldn't be smiling.

But I was.

Because despite everything, she was going to be okay. I didn't lose her.

I couldn't remember much about the past twenty-four hours. It was a blur of heat and panic and fear, and all I could bring to mind was the sinking feeling in my stomach that took hold of me the minute I lifted the toy car to find the miniature replica of Sara trapped beneath it. That pit had yet to go away, but at least the feeling of someone squeezing my heart with both hands was starting to go away. All I could remember was saying, over and over, I can't lose her. I can't lose her.

I brushed my thumb over the back of her hand and continued smiling at her sleeping form. She had been taken off the IV, but was still hooked up to a few machines monitoring her heart rate and temperature. She was sun burnt and drained and still drowsy from the pain medication, but she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I didn't want to let go of her hand.

The team had been in and out since we air-landed at Desert Palm, but Sara had been asleep since she'd been released from the E.R. She was stable, but exhausted, and they each made me promise to call when she woke. I could see my own relief and joy mirrored in each of their eyes. They loved her too.

So when I heard the knock at the door, I wasn't surprised. Nick, Greg, Warrick – even the lab rats – were too anxious to sit around and wait for my call. I looked up and saw Catherine.

"I told you she was a survivor," she said softly.

I smiled and nodded, looking back to Sara. I didn't want to take my eyes off her.

"She's beautiful," I said softly.

Those words, coming from me, might have shocked Catherine out of her skin in normal circumstances. But these weren't normal circumstances, and she just hummed in response and drew up a chair to sit beside me.

"Where is everyone?" I asked her. "Do you need me for anything?"

"No," Catherine said quickly. "You're right where you should be. Brass is at P.D. taking care of Natalie's arrest and paperwork. The guys are in the lobby downstairs."

I laughed softly.

"I knew they couldn't stay away."

"Could you blame them?" she said quietly. "It was like Nick all over again."

I squeezed Sara's hand tighter.

"Can I ask you something?"

I took a shaky breath and nodded.

"Why didn't you tell us?"

I stayed silent a while, studying every darkened freckle on Sara's face. I knew the question would come. And I'd figured on Catherine being the one to ask it. In one respect, she deserved an answer. She was one of my dearest friends. In the other respect, even my least of dearest friends knew how much I valued my privacy. But I had prepared for this, and I didn't hold it against Catherine, for asking.

"We didn't want anyone to know," I said simply.

I finally tore my eyes away from Sara to look over at her. I could tell that she wanted more, but she nodded.

"It is very easy," I added at her silence. "With our jobs and in our lives and with the things that we have to deal with every day… it's very easy to be pulled into the dark. And Sara is… Sara is…"

I tailed off, searching for the right way to describe the woman who meant so much to me.

"The light," I finished. "I guess I was just afraid of losing or diminishing that light, by sharing it with others. I wanted it all for myself."

Catherine gave me a small, sentimental smile, and placed her hand on my shoulder. She left it there for a moment, and we sat, looking at each other, passing understanding between us without words. There were no hard feelings on either side.

"I'm going to go hang out with the guys for a bit," she said. "Come get me when she wakes up. After… you two have some time."

I nodded.

"I will."

"Take good care of her, Gil," she said on her way out. "She's going to need you."

I nodded after her again and turned back to Sara, whose eyes were fluttering open. I felt the same quiver in my stomach that I felt in the helicopter earlier that afternoon. The one that accompanied the overwhelming sense of relief.

I didn't lose her.

I reached out to her and gently brushed her cheek with my finger.

"Hey."

"Hey," she said back. "I knew you'd find me."

Her voice was scratchy and raw, her eyes still heavy with tiredness. I beamed at her.

"We all did," I whispered. "God, Sara, we were so worried. It was… it was…"

"You know what kept me going?" she cut in.

"Sara, we don't have to talk about—"

"You," she interrupted. "How much I love you. And how much I'm sorry."

"W-what?" I stammered.

"That's all I could think," she replied. "I love you, and I'm sorry."

"Oh, honey," I breathed.

I reached around the tubes and leaned closer to kiss her, lingering close to her face when our lips broke apart. I wanted to kiss her until my lips were numb. I knew I should pull away, she was still so, so tired, but I just couldn't. My eyes couldn't stop taking in every inch of her, drinking her in. As much as I willed myself not to cry in front of her, tears built up in my eyes and worry fell over her face.

"Oh, Gil," she whispered. "Don't."

She kissed me again.

"I love you too," I said into her ear. "I love you, and I'm sorry."

I pulled away as she let out a throaty laugh.

"Well, I'm glad we've got that cleared up."

"Everyone's here to see you," I told her. "But if you're not up for it…"

"No," she cut in. "No, I want to see them."

I nodded.

"I'll tell them."

"I'm, uh, I'm guessing we're not so secret any more?" she teased.

"Not so much," I replied. "I'm sorry, honey."

"I'm not."

I smiled at her more, wondering whether I could just call Catherine instead of going to get her, so I wouldn't have to leave Sara, when I heard a few throats clear at the door.

"What can I say?" Catherine smiled. "Our timing is impeccable."

Nick, Warrick, Greg and Brass emerged from behind her, armed with enough flowers to plant an entire garden, and one unnecessarily large green balloon from Greg.

"It was either this or a pink one," Greg explained, shrugging. "And I know how you feel about pink."

Sara laughed and waved them over, and for the first time in hours, I left my chair by her bedside, letting them have their time with her. As Nick planted a kiss on the top of her head, Catherine tugged at my elbow.

"You have a visitor too," she said quietly.

"Me?" I repeated, surprised. "Who?"

She gestured to the doorway, where a small woman with gray curls stood holding a bouquet and a department store shopping bag. My mother.

"Mom," I singed as I embraced her. "How did you know?"

"I may be old, but I'm not senile yet," she signed back. When I continued to stare blankly, she added, "I watched the news."

She handed me the bouquet, followed by the shopping bag.

"These are for Sara," she said. "And these are for you. If I know my son at all, you have neither clean change of clothes nor any intention of going home any time soon."

"You always thought of everything," I signed as I smiled at her. "Do you want to meet her?"

She waved her hands in front of her.

"No, no. Now is not the right time. And anyway, I came to see how you were doing."

"She'll be fine," I signed. "So I will, too."

She nodded carefully.

"The times you told me about her… those few times you called this last year," she said, adding a guilt trip that made me smile. "I could tell you care for her. I'm glad she will be okay."

"Thank you, mom."

"I should go," she signed hurriedly. "I'll let you get back to her. Call me soon. I love you."

I told her I loved her too, and turned back into Sara's room in time to hear Brass speak up from the middle of the huddle around the bed.

"Well, kiddo, we'll let you rest," he said.

"I'll be back tomorrow, Sara," Greg said, forcefully cheery despite the dried tear marks on his face. "And no complaining over which movies I choose."

"Rest up, sweetie," Nick added.

They finished their hugs and goodbyes, hugged and goodbyed me, and filed out. I smiled at her from across the room.

"It looks like the Garden of Eden in here," she giggled softly, her voice even more scratchy and raw than before. "You should go home. You need rest too."

"I can sleep here," I replied, setting back into my chair and taking her hand. I immediately felt the exhaustion wash over me.

"Gil, I'll be fine."

"I know," I said sincerely. "I know. But I don't know if I'm ready to let go yet."

I nodded at our interlocked hands and she gave me a faint smile. She looked every bit as tired as I felt, and we each settled into silence. My eyelids felt heavy, and I fought hard keeping them open, eventually allowing them slide closed, knowing that Sara was safe.

"It's over, Sara," I murmured, feeling sleep claim me. "It's over."

I fell into the puddle of drowsiness, but Sara's stayed open, her hand still grasping mine tightly.

"No," she whispered. "It's only just beginning."