Disclaimer: My name is not Anthony Zuiker or Jerry Bruckheimer, so obviously I don't own CSI

Disclaimer: My name is not Anthony Zuiker or Jerry Bruckheimer, so obviously I don't own CSI. If I did, GSR would stand for Greg/Sara Romance.

Those of you who have been reading, I'm sorry for the long wait. I've been busy with school but summer's here! Anyway, you've waited long enough, on with the story!!

Chapter 3: Recovering, Assurance, & Frustration

Greg didn't remember much about the past twelve hours. The parts he could remember came to him in blurred masses, garbled sounds, and strange colors. He remembered the surreal feeling he had when he was laying helpless and bleeding on the cold parking garage floor, and the seemingly distant sound of gunfire, confirming his salvation from an unlikely assailant. Greg vaguely, vaguely, remembered the hustle of doctors and nurses upon his arrival into the emergency room as they tried to prevent blood loss from the many gashes on his body. One thing he clearly remembered was Sara. Sara Sidle, his savior, his mentor, his inspiration, his love. Yes, he could almost smell that "Sidle" scent, as he called it, right at that moment…wait…he could smell it.

Slowly and groggily Greg opened his eyes and his blurry vision soon gave way to his regular 20/20 eyesight. His senses had not deceived him. Sara was at the edge of the bed with her head resting on his right arm.

"Sara…" He breathed, in a barely audible yet firm voice. He was still to weak to speak much louder, but he got her attention.

"Hey, you're awake." She said, sitting up and flashing him her gapped smile. Greg had the feeling that she hadn't even thought about smiling for the past twelve hours. She looked thoroughly exhausted and completely frustrated, but still beautiful in his eyes. He didn't care, she could shower in decomposed body fluids and roll around in the garbage and he still would think that she was the most beautiful person he'd ever set his eyes on.

"Earth to Greggo…" Greg snapped out of his trance to see Sara's hand waving in front of his face

"Sorry." He grinned sheepishly before his face fell in pain. He tried not to let Sara see, but she was too quick. She frowned, taking his hand in hers and spoke.

"Hey Greg, I'm sorry about that crack I made earlier. It was mean and it could've been the last thing I ever said to you." Sara said, looking at the floor

"No that's fine, I exaggerated anyway. Besides, you shouldn't hold onto the past so much. If you do that too much, it gets harder live in the present and look to the future." Greg said in one of his rare philosophical moments as he grasped his side.

"It's our job to focus on the past." Sara pointed out, just to see Greg's response, she could tell he was thinking of a good one by the grin playing on his lips.

"Technically, our job is analyzing forensic evidence such as DNA, fabric, and GSR to piece together what happened in the past, not to directly analyze the past itself and wonder why things that we can't change happened the way that they did." Greg said, sounding very much like a dictionary

"So, how's the case?" Greg asked, changing the subject

"The North Pole isn't as cold as this case, Greg." Sara chuckled with frustration and pushed her hair back. "We got nothing to go on yet. Not even the blood samples from the triple murder got us anywhere, which by the way is connected to your attack. Can you top that?" Sara finished, flashing a smile that said, "The world can fuck off."

"Hey, chin up Sidle." Greg said "You and I both know that there is no way to commit any kind of crime without leaving some kind of evidence. Whoever's doing this is bound to slip up and leave something big sooner or later." Greg said, squeezing Sara's hand.

"You know what Greg? Thanks for that." Sara stood and kissed the top of his head before leaving.

--Autopsy Room--

"So, what's the verdict, Doc?" Grissom asked Robbins as he walked into the autopsy room with his folder.

"Definitely a homicide, Griss." Doc said, shaking his head "Tox results came back. She had heavy but not lethal doses of Hydrocodon in her system, no alcohol present." The Doc assessed.

"That explains why there were no signs of a struggle. Do you think that she could've been addicted to pain meds?" Grissom asked, eyeing a ring on her left ring finger. "It's possible, I'll no more once you can get a hold of some relatives." Doc answered

"Hey, could I take that ring please?" Grissom asked as Doc nodded and used a gloved hand to place it in a sterile plastic bag for Grissom.

"I'll be back Albert." Grissom said, leaving the room.

-- Brass' Office--

Walking into Jim's office, Grissom cleared his throat.

"You paged me, Brass?" Grissom questioned, raising an eyebrow as he always did when he was curious.

Brass stood from his chair, "Yeah, your jumper's name is Tanya Ericson. Her husband, Kevin, filed a missing persons report matching her description. He's here to ID the body." Brass said, heading to the door with Grissom.

The Lab

Sara walked into the lab and was almost plowed over by Catherine. Catherine smiled upon seeing her and said:

"We have a match to our victims, well, partial match anyway."

Sara raised a brow and cocked her head. "A partial match?" She asked, willing Catherine to elaborate.

"Well, since Greg's attack and the murders were related, I thought maybe the victims would be. I compared the victims' DNA to an employee sample of Greg's; it turns out all three are related to him. One was his father, I also identified traces of his mother's blood from the blood we took from the scene." Catherine explained, smiling grimly as Sara's jaw got lower and lower with each word.

Recovering from her shock, Sara managed to ask a single question.

"D-do you have any suspects yet?" She asked, still dazed. This was definitely a grudge crime now, and she couldn't fathom why anyone would hold a grudge against any member of the Sanders family. Greg spoke of his family often and they sounded like kind, honest, decent people.

"Warrick tracked down one so far. He left this morning for a golf tournament in Miami though. His name is Terry Alsup, (A/N: He really is my uncle and really was a pro golfer at one time.) he runs the John Jacobs Golf School downtown. Heard of it?" Catherine asked, trying to make conversation to compensate for overloading Sara with information.

"Yeah, I heard Grissom and Brass talk about it a couple times. Hey listen—I'm gonna go visit Greg again and give him the news." Sara said turning around to leave

"Break it to him gently, he's still recovering!" Catherine called, leaving Sara to ask:

'Should I tell him about his parents, his mother?'

Wow, it's good to be back! Please R &R, and again: Sorry for the wait. I think I actually had to dust this file off on Word, lol