Disclaimer: I don't own CSI.

A/N: This story might be cliché, but I felt like I wanted to write it. I've been a little down lately and took it out on the characters. Thanks to Spottedhorse whose writing reminded how fun it can be to write for Catherine. Thanks to Moonstarer who told me "Publish and be damned." If she likes this piece, it will make posting it worth it. Thanks to CSI trivia guru BeckyCSI for "Lindsey" clarification. Also, please note this has not been "beta-ed." Therefore, mea culpa for the mistakes, which are all mine.

A/N2: The timeframe is season 8, set after Sara left, somewhere in February. Think of it as the limbo time when we had no idea what was going on between Grissom and Sara.

--

"Hey."

Grissom sat at his desk and looked over the top of his glasses to see Catherine standing against the doorframe.

"Hey," Grissom replied. Catherine approached his desk but didn't sit down. Grissom took off his glasses. "I'm thinking you want to ask something of me."

"Well, now that you mention it," Catherine said, coyly. "I do need a small something."

"What's up?"

"Well, my mother is out-of-town with her friends, so, how about you come by my place and have breakfast with Lindsey and me? You know, for old times sake."

Grissom looked at her skeptically. "What do you mean 'for old times?' I was at your place a few weeks ago. Lindsey ate a bowl of Cheerios and left the table in a bit of a huff when I wouldn't take a stand on whether her mini-skirt was appropriate, and you told me you hated my glasses."

"Her mini-skirt was too short and you should have said so, and those frames are atrocious, Gil. I don't know how you got suckered into them, but they make you look too old," Catherine said, finally bringing a chair in front of his desk so she could sit down.

Grissom regarded his friend with a patented Grissom stare, and Catherine acquiesced and revised her story. "Lindsey is seriously thinking about going to California for college. I thought maybe we could sit down at breakfast and you can tell her about your days at UCLA and life in the Los Angeles."

"Why would she want to hear about that?" Grissom asked. "If I recall, she asked Nick about his college life and she was very enthralled about the stories of his party days. I'm sure this will come as a shock to you, but I don't have the same enthusiastic memories from when I was a student."

"Not that that doesn't surprise me," Catherine said delicately, "but I still think it would be educational for her to hear about the campus, the life there…"

"I haven't been in college for more than three decades."

"Yes, but you were there, what four years ago for a seminar. You said it hasn't changed a bit."

Grissom smiled. "Oh, I get it."

Catherine looked innocent. "What?"

"You want to use me and my dry memories as a way to persuade Lindsey not to got to UCLA."

"Noooooo," Catherine said.

"She won't care less about my stories, you know that Catherine."

"Sure she wants to hear them. It was her idea."

"It was Lindsey's idea?"

"Yes."

"For me to come over on a Saturday morning and have breakfast and talk about UCLA?"

"Yes. And living in L.A. You did live there for years, remember?"

"OK. What time should I be there?"

"Leave after shift. I have to run a quick errand, but that will give you two time to chit chat before I get there," Catherine said. "Oh, here's a spare key. That way you can come in and start cooking breakfast in case she's in her room listening to her iPod and can't hear the doorbell."

"Fine. I'll see you then," Grissom said as he retrieved the key and put it in his pocket. As Catherine turned to leave, he was suddenly struck by what she said. "Wait a minute? I have to cook breakfast now? … Cath?"

--

Eight o'clock on a Saturday morning might be too early to get high, but since John, Kyle and Holt were up all night, early was a relative term. The high school juniors crashed at Kyle's house after being at an all-night rave. It was unbelievable, the girls, the drugs, the lights. They were still flying high, but Holt and John wanted some more. So John went to his truck to get his pipe.

Kyle was still buzzing from the events. There were some hot girls at the rave, and a lot of them ready and willing to put out. He didn't get too far, but what he got, he liked. But John and Holt called him a pussy.

"Christ, man, what the fuck are you waiting for? You could have popped it last night," John said. "What the hell's your problem?"

Holt dragged on the pipe, rolled his head and started to laugh as he spoke. "You're a fag, aren't you? Probably want to suck my dick right now."

John let out a laugh, stood up in front of Kyle and grabbed himself. "Yeah, Kyle. You want a piece of this?"

"Fuck no!" Kyle yelled. He didn't find it as funny as his friends. "Get out of my face, you fuckin' perv!"

"It's Lindsey, isn't it?" Holt said. "You just want to fuck her."

Kyle threw one of the baseballs poking out of his gym bag at Holt's head. He was so stoned he didn't move and he didn't flinch. Instead he egged on Kyle. "You know, John, that piece of ass with the blonde hair in his physics class?"

"Ah, yeah, the dancer. She's hot," John said. "I heard her mother was a stripper. Wouldn't mind tapping either one of those asses."

"Why don't we?" Holt said. "Kyle could have Lindsey and we can have mom."

It was John's turn at the pipe and his drag was long, making him lightheaded. An uninhibited smile came across on his face. "I like that."

"You guys are fucked in the head. We're not going over there."

"The fuck we aren't," John said. "She lives on Jackson Way, doesn't she, little man?"

Kyle didn't answer.

"Come on. Get in the fucking truck," John said.

"You can't be fucking serious," Kyle answered, his nerves showing fear and apprehension.

John laughed. "Don't worry. We'll just go for a visit. We're just yanking your chain about fuckin' 'em," John said. "We'll say you needed some notes for class and wanted to borrow hers. It's just a visit, asshole. You can see her, then come back here and jack off thinking about her, like you normally do."

Kyle's tension subsided. He would like to see her. "Fine. Let's go."

John and Kyle were the first out of the room. Holt cooled the pipe and wrapped it in a bandana before putting it in his pocket. He followed his friends, but on his way out, he picked up something else from Kyle's gym bag. When they got to the truck, Holt stashed the item in the bed of the truck and got into the cab.

--

Lindsey went to open the door to her house after hearing the bell. She was surprised to see who was on the other side.

"Hey guys. What are you doing here?"

John, Holt and Kyle were in front of Lindsey with big smiles. Kyle spoke up. "Hey Lindsey. We were just in the neighborhood and I asked John if we could drop by." He was a little flustered and stammered a bit. "Sorry. Do you know John and Holt?"

Lindsey looked at them. "Yeah, … yeah… you guys were on the football team. How's it going?"

"Cool" and "Good" were some responses. Lindsey thought Kyle was a nice guy from a couple of her classes. He was really quiet, so seeing him with a couple of stoned jocks was a little weird. "Why did you want to drop by, Kyle?"

"Oh, I was hoping you might have brought your physics notes home. I … can't find my notebook and I thought I could copy your notes at Kinkos and bring the book right back. If that's cool with you."

"Oh, shit. That's right. We have that test on Monday," Lindsey said. "Yeah, sure. Come on in, I'll get them."

Lindsey opened the door for Kyle and John came in too. But Holt waited. "Hey, Lindsey, I forgot my wallet in the truck. I'm going to get it really quick."

"OK, sure, I'll leave the door open."

Holt jogged to the car, but didn't get his wallet. He was inside in a flash and made sure he locked the door behind him.

"You guys need something to drink?" Lindsey asked as she went to her room. "You can help yourself to something in the fridge." She went to her desk in her room and searched for her notes.

John went to the kitchen and Kyle heard him rattling around like he was looking for something. When Kyle went into the kitchen, John was messing with some cooking knives.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Kyle asked.

John turned around, smiled and put the knives down. "Incentive, dude." He approached Kyle, and took him by surprise, putting his hand on the back of Kyle's neck and slamming his head on the marble countertop. Kyle fell the floor bleeding and unconscious.

Holt came in the kitchen and looked at Kyle. "Whatever," Holt said, turning his attention to John. "Let's go check on Lindsey."

Lindsey didn't find her notes right away. She searched in the closet and all through her desk. She noticed her iPod, which was playing in a docking station. She moved the docking station to find some papers and a notebook stuck between it and the desk. She moved the desk to reach for the papers and her physics binder fell.

"Hey, Kyle, I found it. I'll be right out," Lindsey yelled before she turned around toward her bedroom door. She was stunned when she turned and bumped right into John. She backed up a step before speaking. "Jeez, John, you scared me. Where's Kyle?"

John closed the distance between them, intruding on Lindsey's personal space. "Kyle's probably jacking off in the other room while he thinks about your tight cunt. I figured why not try the real thing."

Lindsey pushed John's chest. "Get the hell away from me. My mother will be here any minute and she'll have her gun."

At that point, Lindsey looked over John's shoulder and could see Holt in the room. His expression was just as fierce and frightening as John's.

"I mean it, guys, she works with cops. She'll be here any minute. You need to leave."

"Oh, we're hoping she gets here," Holt said. "We're looking forward to meeting her too. I'm hard for a lap dance."

The two laughed, and Lindsey took her chance to run. She almost made it past Holt, but he used the item he brought from the truck — an aluminum baseball bat — and smashed Lindsey's arm as she passed. She screamed in pain, the force of the blow knocking her to the floor. She got up quickly, but Holt grabbed her forcefully and lifted her off the ground by her waist. Lindsey kicked, screamed and clawed as best as she could.

"Let go of me! Let go, you asshole! KYLE!"

"Kyle's not coming in here to save you, bitch! If he does come in here, he can have third go," John said. Holt threw Lindsey onto the ground again and John got on top of her, taking both of her arms and pinning them over her head. Lindsey screamed again as she felt pain shoot through the arm Holt struck with the bat.

"Stop it! STOP!"

Holt went on his knees and secured Lindsey's arms up over her head as John struck her in the face trying to get her quiet. "Shut up! Dammit! SHUT UP!"

Lindsey quieted for a moment, but cried. John looked at her with a wicked smile. "I did borrow something from your kitchen." He reached to the back of his pants and extracted a large knife. He put it to her neck, cutting Lindsey's neck and causing the wound to bleed. "Now … shut … the fuck … up."

But Lindsey didn't stop. She continued to plead with Holt and John. Her arm was throbbing as Holt continued to pin both of her arms.

"STOP!!" she yelled.

"SHUT UP!" John yelled and he grabbed the top of Lindsey's sweat pants. Holt kept a tight grip on Lindsey's arms. Even though she was pinned down and in pain, she squirmed as much as she could. And kept screaming "NO! … NO! DON'T … PLEASE! NO! … HELP!"

It was hard to hear anything else but Lindsey's screams and the music from the iPod. That's probably why neither John nor Holt heard screams of "LINDSEY! LINDSEY!!" coming from another part of the house.

After pushing down Lindsey's sweats and panties, John undid his jeans. He squeezed tightly on Lindsey's legs and stroked his erection as he looked down at her. Then he took two fingers and thrust them into Lindsey. He extracted them and drew them to his mouth and looked at Holt.

"I taste cherry," John said with a wicked laugh before he roughly spread Lindsey's legs.

John and Holt both reveled in the way Lindsey continued to struggle. They were both so caught up in the moment of terror, that they didn't notice Grissom run into the room until he grabbed John off of Lindsey.

When Grissom arrived at the house, he wondered whose truck was in the driveway. At the front door, he heard Lindsey's screams and immediately extracted the Willow's house key from his pocket and opened the door. Grissom frantically listened to where Lindsey was as he yelled her name.

Now in Lindsey's room, Grissom threw John to the ground. The action startled Holt, who let go of Lindsey. Although frightened, she held up her pants and immediately got out of Holt's reach. Her eyes met Grissom's, and at that moment, she knew she needed to get out of the room and call for help.

Lindsey ran out the door, but Holt grabbed the bat again. Before he could strike Lindsey, Grissom tackled Holt. But when Grissom stood up, John elbowed him in the back. Then teen then held up the older man so Holt could use the bat and take a full swing at Grissom. First Holt swung low to strike Grissom's calf. Then he took a high-octane swing with the aluminum bat upon Grissom's left kneecap, a pain-filled crack resounded in the room. John let go of Grissom and they watched and laughed as he crumbled to the floor flat on his back.

"Damn! Did you hear how his knee cracked," Holt said with a big laugh. "Your turn."

Holt handed the bat to John who delighted in seeing Grissom's left hand upon his battered knee. "Listen to this sound," John said wickedly as he put all his weight behind a full downward blow upon Grissom's left hand. The pain caused Grissom to scream.

Lindsey ran into the kitchen to grab the cordless phone, and screamed when she saw Kyle, thinking he would try to hurt her. Then she saw he was vomiting and his head was bleeding.

"We need to call the cops," Kyle said, swiping at his mouth and trying to gain his balance. "But we got to go outside or something. We can't stay in here."

Lindsey dialed 911 as she moved out of the kitchen to the patio outside. "My name is Lindsey Willows. My mother is Catherine Willows, assistant graveyard supervisor at the Las Vegas Crime Lab," Lindsey's voice cracked but was still remarkably steady despite her fear. "There are two guys in my home who tried to rape me and they are beating up my uncle. Please, we need help now."

"What's you location?"

Lindsey gave the address and was asked if she was safe. "Not with them inside. Please we need help now!"

Kyle didn't follow Lindsey to the patio because of the screams he heard from the other room. John pounded several times on Grissom's thigh, until Holt took his turn to smash Grissom in the ribs. He was ready to give another blow, when he heard Kyle just outside the door. "If they just leave…," Kyle thought, so he yelled, "She's calling the cops! You guys better get out of here now!"

"Shut the fuck up, Kyle!" John screamed. But Holt put down the bat to his side. Something was clicking and driving him out of his drug- and violence–induced haze. "Man, let's bolt."

Holt burst past Kyle. But before John left, he bent down beside Grissom's head. "Fuck with me, old man, and I'll come back and finish her," and he slammed his fist into Grissom's mouth and nose. The impact caused Grissom to spit up blood and saliva onto John's shirt before the teen simply laughed and left.

Kyle heard them start the car, and breathed a sigh of relief. He was going to go to Lindsey, but then he thought about the guy in her room. "He might need help. Or he might be dead." He didn't want to go into the room, but he felt guilty and did. He heard Grissom moaning and saw him struggling to try and get in a prone position.

Lindsey watched from the patio window as John and Holt left. It was then she felt every second of the last 15 minutes replay in her head. She started shivering with fear and pinpricks invaded her body. She shrank down to the ground and sat against the wall of the house. She wanted to hold her knees to her chest, but couldn't because of her injured arm. Tears ran down her cheek and she was startled by the ringing of the phone.

Her mother was frantic on the other end.

"Mom, when are you coming home?" Lindsey said in a frail voice.

--

Catherine kept soothing her daughter while she drove like a bat out of hell to her home. After Lindsey hung up with 911, the operator contacted the police, an ambulance and the crime lab, who summoned Catherine ASAP.

"You did the right thing, Lindsey," Catherine said. "I'm almost there, baby. Just hold on. Is Uncle Gil there with you?"

"I left him back in my room. I don't know where he is or Kyle … but I don't want to go back in there, mom."

"That's OK, Lindsey. You don't have to go back inside the house."

"Oh my God, mom." Something dawned on Lindsey, and she was in utter panic. "They had a baseball bat! What if they killed him? Where are you?!"

"Lindsey, now listen to me. I'm pulling up right now and I can see the officers at the door. Don't worry about him. You did the right thing. Gil would be the first person to say that."

"Don't hang up, mom."

"I'm not," Catherine said as she got out of the car and ran to the door. She yelled at the officers and flashed her credentials. Fortunately, she knew the officers who responded, including Officer Philip Beck. Catherine reassured her daughter again. "They're coming in now. Don't be scared. You're in the patio, right?"

"Yeah."

Catherine turned to the officers. "She's on the patio. Grissom's in there too. Maybe in her room." She talked in the phone. "Lindsey, stay where you are. Don't move. We're coming in the house."

"OK, mom."

Lindsey hung up and didn't move. Catherine was going to run to her, but Officer Beck stopped her. "Let us clear it first," he said sympathetically.

Catherine heard officers yelling at someone in the vicinity of Lindsey's room. After checking the rest of the house, Beck went in the direction of Lindsey's room. He returned to Catherine a minute later. "It's clear. Go ahead."

Catherine ran to Lindsey in the patio. When she saw her daughter's face, neck and arm, Catherine cried. They hugged each other as well as they could without causing Lindsey more pain. While trying to compose herself, Lindsey explained what happened. When she told her mother about the beating, Catherine yelled, "Where are the paramedics?"

Beck heard Catherine and came to the patio. "I've just checked the ETA. They'll be here in three minutes. How bad is your daughter hurt?"

"I think they broke her arm," Catherine said.

"They did a number on Dr. Grissom. He needs to get to the hospital," Beck said, seeing Lindsey's wide eyes, he quickly added, "He's conscious and asking about you, Lindsey. He's going to be OK."

Beck paused for a second and continued, "Capt. Brass arrived and is with him, Ms. Willows. He probably wants to talk to Lindsey."

"Tell him we're out here, please."

While Officer Beck went back to Lindsey's room, Brass came out to the patio with a warm and concerned demeanor. He put his arm on Catherine.

"I heard the call on the radio. How are you?" Brass said sympathetically getting nods from both women. "Lindsey, hon, Grissom told me you fought those guys. Good for you. You're going to be OK. Alright?"

Lindsey just gave another nod.

"Lindsey, did someone named Kyle attack you?" Brass asked.

"No, it was Holt and John. Kyle came with them, but he didn't attack me. After Uncle Gil came in and stopped John and Holt, I ran into the kitchen and Kyle was in there throwing up."

"Can you describe Kyle for me?" Brass asked.

Lindsey gave a description, which matched the teen in the room with Grissom. When the police got to Lindsey's room, they recognized Grissom but didn't know if the teen was an attacker. Grissom told the boy to put up his hands and not to move, and fortunately, the boy listened. The teen's demeanor allowed Grissom to explain to the police the boy was attacked and could have a possible concussion.

"I'd like to get a full statement from Lindsey, …"

"Jim, please, could it wait? I don't think she wants to go into the house just yet …" Catherine said.

"It's doesn't have to be right now," Brass interrupted. "I think it can wait until she's seen by paramedics and a doctor, if that's OK with you, Lindsey."

"I don't know their last names, but it was Holt and John who did this," Lindsey insisted again.

"Don't worry. Kyle gave us their names and where they live. Grissom saw the truck outside, and wouldn't you know, he memorized the make, model and license number," Brass said with a soothing smile. "Don't worry. We'll get these two. But be prepared to make a statement and have a kit done. It will be someone from the dayshift."

"I want to request Karen," Catherine said.

"Sure, we can do that," Brass said. "And Lindsey, you have to understand you'll have to ID these guys in a lineup, too."

The three stopped talking as the paramedics came in the house. Officer Beck was leading them to Lindsey's room. "They need to look at Grissom first," Brass said. "Beck called for another crew."

"Go ahead, Jim. I'm not leaving her," Catherine said.

Brass went back to check on Grissom and get a full statement from Kyle.

--

Grissom grimaced and tried to focus on anything but the pain. He told Jim about the truck, the teens, the baseball bat and how his own blood could be found on one attacker's shirt. He told the paramedics about how he could hear and feel his ribs snap, the bones in his hand and wrist crack, and his kneecap shatter.

But as the paramedics tried to brace his left leg, the pain became too much. He tried not to cry out, but he did.

To his credit, he didn't scream for long … because at that point he passed out.

Even though they were outside, Lindsey and Catherine heard Grissom. Catherine didn't know what to say; Lindsey did.

"Mom, I want to go back inside and give my statement now so I can ID John and Holt right away."

Catherine looked proudly at her daughter. She watched as Lindsey went back into the house, towards her room, to find Brass.

--

News spread quickly about what happened at the Willows residence. The teens were captured in less than two hours. Police had found them smoking meth while they sat in John's truck, which was parked at their high school. They still had the baseball bat in back of their truck, and John hadn't bothered to change his blood-stained shirt.

There were three assault charges, along with attempted rape and unlawful imprisonment. Attempted rape was not an easy charge to stick, but with the statements from a victim and two witnesses, plus the amount of DNA evidence to support a struggle, police were able to get confessions. Even if their lawyers argue diminished capacity because of the drugs, the teens would be tried as adults and would still be looking at hard time.

Karen Shepley, a CSI level 3 on dayshift, processed Lindsey at the hospital. Catherine didn't leave Lindsey but got updates on the case from Brass, who came to the hospital to see how both Lindsey and Grissom were doing. It was already the afternoon, and Catherine had been at the hospital for several hours. Jim convinced her to give Lindsey a break so Catherine could get coffee and a bite to eat and a buy a soda to bring back to her daughter.

"He's in a lot of pain," Brass told Catherine, who had yet to see Grissom. "They're pumping him with drugs, but his leg is a mess — multiple breaks, including the femur. An orthopedic surgeon will come and see about his knee. I think they'll operate ASAP. He has a long, tough recovery ahead."

"I heard him cry out at the house, Jim."

"Yeah, he… he passed out after that."

"I know it's bad. I just need to be with Lindsey," Catherine said, mostly to assuage her own guilty thoughts.

Jim picked that up right away. "Hey, don't worry about that. Gil knows that. He's worried about Lindsey. I told him she's a trooper," Jim said with a smile. "When you're ready, you and Lindsey can go and see him."

"She wants to see him," Catherine said. "I do too."

Jim patted Catherine's arm and slid his hand to grasp hers. She acknowledged the gesture by squeezing his hand.

"You know," Jim said cautiously, "I need to call her."

"Do you even know where she is?"

Jim sighed. "No, but I'll find her. Last time I asked Gil, he said he hadn't talked to her in a while and wasn't sure where she was. Even if he knew where she was, he's in no shape right now to tell us."

Catherine stood up. "This is so ridiculous. She knows what line of work we're in. I know this wasn't work-related, but still. Why would she make this difficult to reach her?"

It was the reaction Jim tried to avoid, but ultimately he knew he couldn't. "I'll find her. But you agree she has to come."

"Of course she has to come," Catherine said, her pitch higher than normal. "And she has to come now."

"Once I find her, she'll come right away. You know that," Jim said as he got up. "Come on. I'm going to get Lindsey some chocolate. Kid deserves a treat, don't you think?"

"She deserves a room makeover after what she went through," Catherine said as they walked back to Lindsey's room.

--

Grissom's first few days in the hospital were a blur. The first day was doctors, nurses and specialists, one after another. X-rays, tests, probing. He needed surgery the next day for his knee, which had extensive damage. Before surgery, the surgeon talked to Brass and suggested someone be the room when Grissom woke up because he would most liked be very disoriented and in pain. HIPPA laws prevented the hospital from using bed rails, so the surgeon was concerned Grissom might be so disoriented he might fall out of bed. A fall could cause him to open up his knee and create an infection or more problems.

"We'll make sure some one is with him," Brass said.

Although he was there for the surgery, Brass was called away during Grissom's recovery. But Nick volunteered to stay with his boss. While Grissom lay in bed with his leg in traction, Nick sat at Grissom's bedside and flipped through the television channels before settling on a college basketball game. About an hour later, he heard Grissom moaning and trying to wake. Nick was told it was OK to take Grissom by the shoulders, to steady him, and use a neutral voice to ease him awake.

"Griss. Grissom. It's Nick. Wake up, man. It's OK."

Nick repeated Grissom's name and saw his eyes open and his body move in a jolt. Knowing sitting upright would cause a lot of pain because of the broken ribs, Nick kept a gentle, but firm hold on Grissom's shoulders. Nick met his boss' eyes, which reflected confusion and pain.

"Grissom. Lie back down, man. You can't be moving like that."

Grissom took hold of Nick's forearm with his own right hand. "Lindsey,…." Grissom said. "I think she's hurt…"

"She's fine, hoss. She's with Catherine. She's with her mom," Nick answered. "Just calm down. You're in the hospital. Remember?"

"The hospital?"

"You just had surgery on your knee. Come on now, lie back down."

Grissom's eyes were darting around the room. "Where's Sara?"

"She's … she's not here, Griss. But we'll find her. OK? Now, come on, please lie down."

Grissom protested for a moment. "She left, Nick. I need her back."

Nick swallowed the lump in his throat. He really wasn't prepared for that. A month ago Catherine shed some light about how Sara left. It was heartbreaking to hear the background story, as scant as it was, but the raw emotion Grissom was showing was even more heartbreaking.

"Griss, I promise, we'll get her here. OK?"

Grissom's expression calmed. "You found her before. You saved her."

"And you two saved me," Nick said, always keeping in eye contact with Grissom. "Please, Griss, lie back down."

When Grissom finally eased back into the bed, Nick recognized his boss was in pain. Grissom's breathing was labored and sweat formed on his forehead. He slowly let go of Nick's arm.

"That's better, Griss," Nick said in a soothing voice.

Grissom opened his eyes and Nick was struck by the sincerity there. "Thank you, Nick."

The younger man squeezed his boss' uninjured hand. "Grissom, I'm going to call the nurse," Nick said. "You look like you need more painkillers."

Grissom nodded and closed his eyes.

--

Grissom spent the third day in pain and sleeping as much as possible. He vaguely recollected a visit from Brass and various people who came and went. About mid-morning of his fourth day, Grissom stared at his left leg in traction. Doctors and nurses had already made their rounds. Surgery was on the horizon, for his hand, femur and knee again. Words floated around in his head — screws, cables, rods — all things he would deal with in surgery.

He was uncomfortable and couldn't move much. Not only because of his leg, but also his hand and his ribs. Grissom knew both would complicate his recovery. A broken hand meant he wouldn't be able to use crutches well, if at all. The same was true about his ribs, which might also extend his hospital stay.

The thoughts tired Grissom. How would he manage? Would he be able to get back to work? How would he be able to process a scene with a bad leg? How would he be able to take care of his dog? How would he be able to take care of his himself… alone?

He thought about his future and his head hurt. He was nodding off but heard a knock on his half open door. "Hello?"

It was Catherine. "Well, you're awake? That's a change." She approached his bedside and placed her hand on his right shoulder. "How are you holding up?"

Grissom snorted at her pun. "Was that comment intentional?"

"Just came out naturally," she teased, and she pulled a chair to the bed and began rubbing Grissom's arm. "I'm just glad to see you with your eyes open."

"Thanks. How's Lindsey?"

"Better. She's at the gift shop insisting on getting you a certain something she saw there two days ago. She said it is perfect for you and is making them search everywhere until they find it."

Grissom laughed lightly, but tried not to because it hurt. "I wonder where she gets that from?"

Catherine laughed back and was tempted to give me a friendly swat, but caught herself and drew her hand away. They both fell into a comfortable silence, and Grissom sunk his head in his pillow and closed his eyes.

"I think she's got more than just your stubborn streak," Grissom said, with his eyes still closed. "She's a brave young woman, Catherine. She fought hard. You should be proud of her."

His words, which were so full of admiration, touched Catherine who swiped her eyes with her hand. She let out of small cough and answered. "I'm very proud of her. Thank you, Gil."

Grissom just turned his head and smiled, with his eyes shyly downcast.

"I think she wants to talk to you without me in the room. Are you OK with that?" Catherine asked.

"Yeah," Grissom said, as he tried to adjust his shirt with his right hand, so it wasn't quite as open, but that wouldn't work and he couldn't reach the sheet. Then he thought about his legs. "Can you, um … cover me up a little."

Catherine chuckled a bit. This is the man who ran into a house not knowing what to expect and fought with two kids more than 30 years his junior, but the idea of a teenaged girl seeing a little bit of his bare chest and bare legs made him nervous.

But Catherine didn't offer a word of protest or ridicule.

While Catherine finished bundling Grissom as best as possible, Lindsey came into the room. Her arm was in a cast, and one of her eyes was still a little puffy. In the other hand, she held a gift bag. "Hey," she said, with nervous cheer.

Grissom offered a smile and Catherine stood up and placed her hands on Lindsey's shoulders.

"I'm going to get some coffee. But I'll be outside," Catherine said. "Lindsey, come get me when you done visiting so I can say goodbye to Gil."

"OK, mom," Lindsey said as she sat down on the chair her mom vacated.

Catherine left the room, but peeked in before closing the door to see something that touched her heart. Grissom was holding Lindsey's hand.

--

She shut the door and went to sit in the waiting area, and was shocked when she turned the corner.

Sara Sidle stood in front of her.

"Sara… I was just coming from Grissom's room."

"Hi, Catherine. How's Lindsey?"

With her arms crossed in front of her chest, Catherine took another step toward Sara. "She's getting better. She's coping. She just went in there to talk with Grissom. She wanted some time alone with him. You probably want to see him…"

"No. Please. … Of course she should have time with him. I can wait."

"Jim told you what happened?"

"Yes, he did. He contacted me yesterday."

Catherine merely nodded and the two women walked to the family waiting area. They sat near one another, but not on the same couch. Their silence was not a comfortable one.

"You just got in?" Catherine asked.

"Yes. I dropped off some stuff at the townhouse and then drove here." Sara waited a moment staring at her hands before she continued. "How is he?"

"In pain. He tries to hide it, but he's in a lot of pain."

Again there was uncomfortable silence, until Catherine added. "But he's been in a lot of pain for some time."

It was a comment that meant to sting, and it did.

"I guessed as much," Sara said. "It's been tough for me too, Cath."

"You know what? You need to save that for Greg or Nicky, OK, but please don't say that to me," Catherine said with frustration.

The comment caught both women off guard. Catherine got up and turned her back to Sara. She paced to calm herself and took a deep breath before turning around. "You know, I thought it was all his fault and he was acting like an ass and you couldn't take it anymore and left. That I could understand."

"That wasn't the reason why I left."

"I know. I don't know everything. Hell, I hardly know anything. But Gil showed me your letter."

"When?"

"About a month ago."

Sara let out of sigh. "I'm surprised he did that."

"So was I," Catherine said. "But I pushed him too much and he let me have it."

Despite the uncomfortable nature of the conversation, Sara had to laugh. "He did what?"

"You heard me," Catherine said, with a smile that wasn't quite friendly. "I pushed and he pushed back."

They simply looked at each other until Catherine spoke. "I've known Gil a long time now, and I always enjoyed offering dating advice." When Sara gave Catherine a surprised and skeptical look, Catherine added, "That's right. You know, there were women before Sara Sidle. … Well, when he would date a woman, and I found out, I would tell him whether they were good for him or not. Then I would tease him about when he was bound to screw up a relationship. And through all that, Gil wouldn't say a word to me. Ever. Then he went through this period where I thought he didn't date anymore."

Catherine chucked with her arms across her chest. She paced just a bit before continuing. "This year before the holidays came around, he turned down every dinner and party invitation. And let me tell you, he was a real bear up until that point. He worked non-stop and just was an all-around joy to be around.

"Then, at the holidays, and afterwards, he became extremely withdrawn. I finally got him to the house to have lunch and I picked at him hoping he opened up." Catherine sat back down next to Sara. "He told me he asked to see you over the holidays, and you said no."

Sara tried to interject, to tell Catherine why she did that, but Catherine stopped her by gently raising her hand. "When he said that, I told him that was a sign. That he might have to think about moving on," Catherine said, already gauging Sara's incredulous look. "I know it was presumptive of me to make such a statement, but what was I supposed to think? You were gone. And you didn't just leave him, you left your friends in the lurch. No one knew where you were, Sara. And here I was watching my friend of 18 years just … fading away."

"You got mad," Sara said flatly.

"Damn straight I got mad," Catherine agreed. "And I told him to stop being such a self-destructive idiot. You left him, so he should get his shit together and move on, too. And then he said something to me I've never heard him say."

Sara gave Catherine what she wanted: confirmation that she was listening and asked,

"What?"

"He told me to shut up." Catherine smiled a bit. "Actually, his words were, 'Shut the hell up, Catherine. You have no idea what you talking about, so just shut the hell up.'"

Sara was dumbstruck. She didn't know whether to laugh, apologize or cry.

"Then the dam burst. Gil told me I had no right to talk about you like that and that I had no idea about your life or your stress and how you deserved every ounce of patience, love and support in his heart. He told me he would wait until you told him not to, and that he would never stop loving you, no matter what I said, the world said or even you said."

"And he told you about the letter?" Sara asked.

"No, he didn't say anything about the letter. He was losing it – his composure. I watched his hands shake when he took out this folded piece of paper from his wallet. He didn't say a word before handing it to me and lying down on my sofa."

Sara could envision him on her sofa with one arm across his face.

"It was your letter," Catherine added, her voice noticeably softer. "I read it and just let him rest. When he fell asleep, I put it back in his wallet. We never talked about it after that."

Once again, a tenuous silence overcame the women, each who cared about Grissom in a different way.

"Sara, I don't know what you have been searching for, but it shouldn't have come to this for you to return to him," Catherine said, he voice returning to it headstrong resolve. "It should never have come to this."

After a beat of silence, where both Sara and Catherine fought to keep their own composures, Lindsey bounded in the waiting room. She let out a teenaged squeal, "SARA!" She ran up to Sara, who stood up to receive a welcome. "You look great!"

"How are you, Lindsey?"

Lindsey shrugged and lost just a sliver of her confidence. "I'm OK. My arm hurts, but I bet you understand that."

"Yeah, I do."

"I was just with Uncle Gil. You're here to see him, right?" Lindsey said before laughing at herself. "Duh, course you are. Hey, mom, I'm going to buy a soda out of the vending machine around the corner. I'll wait for you by the elevators."

"OK, baby."

Lindsey turned to Sara again. "Bye Sara. Uncle Gil is going to be so glad to see you."

And just like that Catherine saw things in a different perspective. After Lindsey left, Catherine cast her eyes downward as she spoke. "Sara. … I'm sorry. It's been a hell of a few days. I've been worried about Lindsey and I was taking it out on you. …"

"Catherine, I understand. I'm sure you only had Gil's best interest in mind," Sara said.

"Lindsey's right. What counts is he really needs you here and you are."

"You're right, too," Sara said with a forlorn look. "It shouldn't have taken Jim so long to find me. And I was wrong when I said no to him over the holidays. I should have looked outside my needs."

"Well, that's none of my business, and trust me, that is a hard thing for me to say," Catherine said, with a smile that seemed to ease the tension. "I want to tell him goodbye, but, …" Catherine extended her arms for a hug, which Sara stepped into, "… I'm glad you came back. Please take care of him and yourself. And if you need something…"

"I will Catherine. I'll call when I need help. Thank you for being there for him. That means more than you know."

"Come with me. I won't be long," Catherine said.

--

Catherine stepped into Grissom's room alone. He seemed to be resting comfortably. "You had a nice talk with Lindsey?"

"Yes." It was a single word spoken in a reserved tone. The statement said more than one would expect from three, solitary letters.

After adjusting a bit, Grissom smiled and tiredly added a comment. "I told her I did more partying than studying at UCLA."

"Really?" Catherine asked, smiling. "You said that with a straight face?"

Grissom pointed to his IV. "Painkillers help."

"Well, that's just great. You told a teenager UCLA made a party animal out of Gil Grissom? Why don't I just book the tickets to LAX now?" Catherine said sarcastically, earning her a smile that for too long had been hidden from her friend's face. "Listen, I'm going to take her home. You need anything?"

"No. Thanks for the visit."

"I'm glad I got to see you," Catherine said as she rubbed his shoulder. "Don't go to sleep just yet. You have another visitor outside."

Before Grissom could ask, Catherine left, leaving the door open. Grissom looked towards the door and saw a very familiar, yet unbelievable silhouette. "Sara?"

Sara came in slowly and stood by Grissom's bed. She didn't say a word as she looked at him and regarded his injuries. "Catherine was right. This shouldn't have been my homecoming. It shouldn't have come to this," Sara thought.

Tears began to fill her eyes, and Grissom groped with his right hand to capture her arm or hand to offer some comfort. "Sara? You OK?"

"No," she said as she placed a hand through Grissom's hair, while her other hand was clasped with his own. "It's hard to see you like this."

Grissom didn't know how to answer that comment, but he understood it. "How did you know I was here?"

"Jim. It took him some time, but he found me," Sara said. "I'm sorry it took him so long to find me. I'm sorry I wasn't here for you. I'm sorry I said 'no' two months ago."

Again, Grissom was at a loss. There was so much to say, but all that came out was, "I've missed you."

Sara caught his eyes, but her guilt hindered a response. Instead she continued to play with his hair. "I bet it's been a few days since your hair's been washed. Maybe I can ask the nurse if I can wash it for you."

"That would be nice, but it might be a while. I don't know what's going to happen next," Grissom said, full of exhaustion and unease.

Sara came around to the side of the bed and faced Grissom. For the first time in months they looked in each other's eyes. She saw his tired eyes. She saw his uncertainty. She saw his physical pain. She saw his mental anguish.

But what she saw most in those blue eyes was her future.

"Then, we'll just have to wait and face what's next together."

"Yeah?" Grissom asked.

"Yes," Sara replied.

There was so much to say, but Grissom felt he had time. He slept holding Sara's hand and knowing he would still be holding it when he woke up.

At least, he hoped so.

THE END

A/N: I hope I can convince people to press that little review button. Please. If you wish to flame, send me an email. I'll take those too. Thanks for reading.