She was running.

Everything dropped where it was, forgotten.

She was running.

The gunshot sound from the other room… and her body jerked violently, head spun around on her neck toward the sound, causing the tweezers to fly out of her hand, losing the evidence. Her case was upturned as she fell backward before leaping to her feet and heading toward the sound.

She was running.

And then she stopped.

Down the hall came the young man - a boy really - and he pushed her aside. She hit the wall with a thud. And then he was gone.

She was running. Toward the open doorway ahead.

She was running and it was taking too damn long!

She turned the corner and stopped.

He was there, on the floor, eyes barely open and glazed, a pool of blood growing around him.

She was on her knees beside him in an instant.

"GRISS!!"

Her hands were all over his body, touching… feeling… hoping.

His breath sounds were faint, a little bubble of saliva barely moving by the side of his mouth.

She heard footsteps and called out over her shoulder for help in a voice she barely recognized as her own.

Her hand was on his face. It was warm. There was a pulse. He was lying on his left side, his right hand covering his upper chest blood oozing from beneath it, covering the wound… Oh God…!! No… Gently, with shaky fingers she started to lift his hand.

And then she was yanked away, falling hard on her rump. And they were there. The paramedics. He was being moved, rolled over.

She heard a small moan and she lurched forward. "Griss?!?" but a hand came osut and stopped her. "Stay back" came the sharp voice. She heard herself whimper, just wanting to be near him.

She watched helplessly as they worked on him. Tubes, needles, an oxygen mask, cut clothes, and blood. So much blood. Too much blood. Until all she could see was red.

She watched helplessly as he was lifted onto a stretcher and wheeled away. She picked herself up off the floor and followed. Offering up her silent prayers.

As the paramedics loaded him into the ambulance she finally found her voice, "Will he be alright?"

She grabbed his arm, "Will he be alright?!?"

"I don't know ma'am. It's up to the doctors."

Her heart fell out of her chest and landed in her gut with a hollow feeling. She felt as though her soul were being rent alive, ripped, torn, shredded, disintegrating her body, leaving behind only an empty shell.

Like a robot, she walked to her car, intending to drive to the hospital. A hand grabbed her arm, and she spun around, her fist raised to physically counter an argument. Catherine.

"Let me drive." she said.

Sara stared at her, and her heart began to pound hard in her chest. Her hand started to shake and then her whole body shook. Her knees gave way. She let out a sob and then Catherine caught her before she fell.

"Yup, I'm driving." And she put Sara in the car.