Chapter Four (Note: I had to change the chapter. I didn't like the direction the story was going. Sorry)

I do not own CSI; the characters are not mine. I am just borrowing them

Gil spent the better part of the night sitting alone on the dark balcony, staring out over the lights of Las Vegas below. He had not slept at all while Sara was in the hospital, and since she had been home, had not slept well. Nightmares plagued his dreams; thoughts that she could get hurt again overwhelmed his weary mind. Gil understood that it was Sara's connection to him, the very fact that he loved her more than life itself, that he was willing to kill for her, to die for her, and that he would die without her, that had put Sara's life in jeopardy. If someone like Natalie Davis could elicit revenge against him by hurting Sara, what would stop the next person he wronged? And the next time, they may not be able to save her on time. Gil wasn't sure he wanted to risk a next time. He wondered if somehow, life apart from Sara would hurt less than a life without her.

Captain Jim Brass stared at the phone on his desk, willing his fingers to pick up the receiver and "…just dial the damn number." But something in him told him held him back. He hadn't said much to Gil since the night they found Sara, and honestly, his chin still hurt. When he had visited Sara in the hospital, she was still in intensive care, the breathing tube down her throat a ghastly reminder of how close she'd come to being one of the unlucky ones; not that the position she was in made her lucky, he thought. Gil had held a solid bedside vigil, sleeping in the chair next to her, reading her poetry and even working his crossword puzzles out loud in the hopes that she could hear even just a little bit.

When Brass had walked in the room, Gil eyed him coldly but nodded his greeting. For a minute, it took Brass all he had to enter the room. Seeing Sara that way was difficult, even for a seasoned cop like him. Her face was swollen around the breathing tube and her eyes were taped shut. She had a brace around her neck, holding her head still ('Yeah, as if she's moving around a lot' he remembered thinking) and the machine next to her making the steady wooshing sounds made sure that her lungs received air, even if she forgot to breathe.

"Man, Gil," He had said. "I am really sorry…" Gil had not looked at him, staring at Sara's bruised hand as he held it in his. "I uh…" Jim continued. "I brought her flowers." Gil nodded again. "I'll just…I'll leave them over here." Jim placed the flowers on the window seal, looking over at Gil. He walked towards Sara, brushing her bandaged arm lightly. "You get better soon for us, Kiddo." He said before heading towards the door.

"Hey, Jim." Gil called out quietly. Jim turned around to face him. "I'm sorry," he tilted his head in Jim's direction, "about that."

Jim grinned, touching his chin. "That?" He waved it off. "Don't worry about it. But I gotta tell ya Gil…you have one hell of a sucker punch."

Jim snapped his way out of the reverie and finally dialed Gil Grissom's number. "Grissom."

"Hey, it's Brass." Jim started quietly. "I, uh, we really need to get Sara's statement."

"No, Jim." Gil said firmly.

"C'mon man." Jim plead, "we can come over there if you want."

"What I want," Gil snapped, "is for you to leave her alone."

"I wish I could, Gil, really. But without Sara's statement…" he broke off before stating levely, "Look Gil. We don't think Natalie acted alone. There was someone else in the garage security footage; we couldn't make it out, but it definitely looked male." He paused again, giving his statement time to sink in. "This guy's still out there, still carrying a vendetta—"

"Okay." Gil said suddenly. "Okay..just, uh, just let me talk to her first."

"Sure, man…just let me know what time."

Gil hung the phone up; rubbing his hands down his face in tired frustration. 'Damn it', he muttered as he hung up the phone. He didn't know if Sara remembered any of the events of that night, all he knew was that somewhere along the line of her remembering, the reasons for what happened to her were bound to surface. Whether Sara was even remotely aware of Natalie's motive was entirely unknown, she had not mentioned it and neither had he. He wondered if she would somehow blame him, realizing that the only reason she had been hurt in the first place, was because of him? And, if she did find out, would that change her feelings for him?

He walked into the living room where Sara lay on the couch. Her back was against the armrest and she had her laptop balanced precariously on her cast as she checked her email. "Hey." He said a little more cheerfully than he actually felt.

She looked up at him carefully, the pain in her neck making the movement difficult. "Hey," She greeted back before glancing back at the computer screen. A huge smile broke out on her face as she giggled, "Oh, no he didn't…"

Gil cocked his head slightly, "Didn't what?"

"Nick sent me a flash card." She grinned. "You wont believe what it was." Seeing the puzzled look on his face, she laughed. "No…not that."

Deciding it was probably best if he didn't know, he sat carefully next to her. "Sara," When she looked at him, he continued, "Brass wants you to give a statement."

The happiness in her eyes melted away, replaced by something Gil couldn't read. "Today?" She asked

"He wants to come by with Warrick this afternoon."

"Warrick?"

"He's the lead CSI on your case now." He said carefully. "I have too much personal stock involved."

Sara sighed, closing her computer. As she reached to put it out of her way, she stopped suddenly, wincing in pain and squeezing her eyes shut. Her hand was on her left side, close to the ribcage.

"Are you okay?" He asked, concerned.

"Peachy," She gasped, near tears. After a few stabilizing breaths, she looked up at him, blinking harshly at the tears in her eyes. Grinning, she said "What doesn't kill us, makes us stronger."

Somehow, he didn't find that statement funny and gave her a scolding look, "I don't know about you, but I sure as hell don't feel any stronger." He snapped.

"Damn…" she said, "And I'm the one who was nearly crushed under a car…"

"Sara, you know this isn't easy for me either."

"I know that, Gil." She said, her eyes filled with an emotion he wished he could read.

"Somehow, I don't think you do." He replied, sadness in his voice as he stood up.

"Gil…" she started, sounding frustrated. "Look…I know this isn't easy for you. I know you are tired, you aren't sleeping at night." She bit her bottom lip, continuing. "I realize that catering to me is draining, I know it is putting a stress on you. Don't you think I don't notice that?"

He ran his fingers through his hair, not fully understanding why he felt so irritated with her; it wasn't like it was her fault. "Sara. I'm tired." He snapped simply, "It has been a very long week."

She pursed her lips together, fighting an emotion that almost looked like anger. "Fine." She replied, laying her head back against the armrest and closing her eyes.

He looked at her, taking in a slow breath. "Sara…honey…look," He said softly, kneeling down next to her and placing his hand on her cheek. "I really am sorry. I don't mean to snap at you. God knows you are the very last person I want to snap at." He rubbed the side of her face gently, his eyes softening. "I'm tired. I'm cranky. But that doesn't give me the right to take it out on you. I really am sorry."

She gazed at him and he could see the sparkle in her eyes when they caught his. "I know, Gris…" She smiled a little. "And it really is okay. If I said I didn't understand, I'd be a liar. So really, it's fine."

"Okay." He nodded.

"I'll talk to Brass." Sara said quietly. She didn't know if she even knew what had happened to her and what she did know, she didn't want to remember. If only they could all just let it go, just forget the whole ordeal; then she could put it away in the locked box where she kept all of her bad memories. Safely tucked away where they could never hurt her again.